The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia and Historiography

Mnemosyne
Supplements
monographs on greek and
latin language and literature

Executive Editor

G.J. Boter (vu University Amsterdam)

Editorial Board

A. Chaniotis (Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton)

K.M. Coleman (Harvard University)
I.J.F. de Jong (University of Amsterdam)
T. Reinhardt (Oxford University)

volume 395

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/mns

The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia
and Historiography
New Research Perspectives

By

Egidia Occhipinti

leiden | boston
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Occhipinti, Egidia, author.

Title: The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia and historiography : new research
perspectives / by Egidia Occhipinti.
Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2016] | Series: Mnemosyne supplements
: monographs on Greek and Latin language and literature, issn 0169-8958 ;
volume 395 | Includes bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: lccn 2016028035 (print) | lccn 2016032603 (ebook) | isbn
9789004325715 (hardback : acid-free paper) | isbn 9789004325784 (e-book) |
Subjects: lcsh: Hellenica Oxyrhynchia. | Greece–History–To 146
b.c.–Historiography. | Greece–History–Spartan and Theban supremacies,
404-362 b.c.–Historiography. | History, Ancient–Historiography. |
History, Ancient–Research. | Diodorus, Siculus. Bibliotheca historica.
Classification: lcc PA3998.H233 O33 2016 (print) | lcc PA3998.H233 (ebook) |
ddc 938/.06–dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016028035

Want or need Open Access? Brill Open offers you the choice to make your research freely accessible online
in exchange for a publication charge. Review your various options on brill.com/brill-open.

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface.

issn 0169-8958
isbn 978-90-04-32571-5 (hardback)
isbn 978-90-04-32578-4 (e-book)

Copyright 2016 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands.

Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi and
Hotei Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without prior written permission from the publisher.
Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided
that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive,
Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change.

This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

To my parents

∵
Contents

Acknowledgements xiii

1 The ho in the View of Modern Scholars 1

1.1 The Authorship 2
1.2 A New Proposal and Old Theories 5
1.3 The ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica 8

part 1

2 The Work and the Reader 15

2.1 The Narrative Character of Fourth-Century Hellenica 15
2.2 P. Oxy. v 842: Annalistic Framework, Synchronistic Narrative 21
2.3 The Historian’s Evaluation and Its Impact on the Readers 27
2.4 Conclusion 29

3 Spartan Motivations: the ho and Xenophon 31

3.1 Greek Hostility and Sparta’s Reasons 31
3.2 Sparta’s Asiatic Campaign and Its Analysis 34
3.3 Agesilaus’ Motivations and the Lasting Significance of the Spartan
Campaign in Asia 39
3.4 The End of a Dream? 49
3.5 Conclusion 55

4 Diodorus, the ho and Xenophon: A Reassessment 57

4.1 The ho as a Source for Diodorus’ Bibliotheke 57
4.2 Diodorus’ Thirteenth Book and the Florence Papyrus 68
4.3 Diodorus, the Cairo Papyrus and Xenophon 75
4.4 Diodorus on Theramenes: Final Observations 79
4.5 Conclusion 85

part 2

5 The ho and Athenian Polypragmosyne 89

5.1 Athenian πολυπραγμοσύνη: a Literary Topos 89
5.2 A Fourth-Century Debate? 102
x contents

5.3 Multa per Aequora … Sea Power and Athenian Motivation 106
5.4 Cnidus According to the Oxyrhynchus Historian: a Solely Persian
Success 112
5.5 Conclusion 115

6 Terra Marique … 116

6.1 Decelea, or the Supremacy of Land over Sea 116
6.2 The Sea as a Barrier 120
6.3 τὸ συμπολιτεύειν: Thebes versus Boeotia? 130
6.4 Conclusion 138
6.5 Analytical Description of the Toponyms Occurring in the ho 139

7 Historiography and Hegemony 141

7.1 Sparta, or the Undisputed Hegemony 141
7.2 Diodorus and the Debate on Hegemony 152
7.3 Political Realities and Historiographical Simplifications 156
7.4 Conclusion 160

8 Historical Causation 162

8.1 Why Do Things Happen? 162
8.2 To Blame or not to Blame … Individual and Collective
Responsibilities 170
8.3 Visibility and Clarity in Historical Causation 174
8.4 Thebes, or Intra-Greek Hostility 183
8.5 Stasis, or the Dimension of Internal Conflict. What Awareness of
Thucydides? 190
8.6 Conclusion 197

9 ‘Moralism’ in Historiography 198

9.1 The ho and Thucydides: What ‘Moralism’? 198
9.2 ‘Moralism,’ ‘Morality,’ and Moral Lessons 206
9.3 Theopompus: ‘Moralism’ versus ‘Morality’? 217
9.4 Praise/Blame in Ephorus? 228
9.5 Conclusion 237

Conclusion 239

Appendix 245
1 A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Theramenes Papyrus
(P. Mich. 5982) 245
contents xi

2 History, Oratory and Their Audiences 255

3 Diodorus and Rome 261
4 Translations 264
Bibliography 267
Index of Names 286
Thematic Index 296
Acknowledgements

This book is a much-revised version of a manuscript written during a research

period that I carried out at the Faculty of Classics of the University of Oxford
from 2011 to 2013 as a Marie Curie Post-Doctoral Fellow (fp7-people-2010-ief),
and completed in October 2015.
I thank those who have contributed with their suggestions to its content,
directly or indirectly, through individual meetings, chats, by reading parts of
my manuscript; moreover, I was given the opportunity to discuss some topics
related to the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia thanks to seminar-papers that I presented
at the Universities of Oxford, Magdeburg, Helsinki and Vercelli. Therefore,
my sincere gratitude and thanks go to Mr. G.L. Cawkwell, Dr O.D. Cordovana,
Prof. M. Dreher, Prof. A. Feldherr, Prof. M.A. Flower, Prof. S. Hornblower, Prof.
M. Kajava, Dr G. Mariotta, Dr D. Obbink, Mr. C.B.R. Pelling, Dr A. Provenza,
Prof. T. Reinhardt, Prof. T. Rood, Prof. O. Salomies, Prof. G. Vanotti, and Prof.
T. Whitmarsh. Besides, I am also grateful to Prof. N. Luraghi, who arranged for
me it and research facilities at the University of Princeton in November 2012.
And finally, I warmly thank both Mr. G. Bastianini and Prof. D. Manetti, who
gave me the photos of the Florence papyrus, allowing me to publish one of them
as frontispiece of this book.
The responsibility for eventual mistakes or any misunderstanding is wholly
mine.

e.o.
Turin 2016
 chapter 1

The ho in the View of Modern Scholars

This book involves a historiographical study of the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia

(henceforth ho) that defines its relationship with fifth- and fourth-century his-
torical works as well as its role as a source of Diodorus’Bibliotheke. The study is,
therefore, supported by intertextual comparison; other tools of enquiry, such
as papyrological and narratological investigations, are also used.
The ho is a historical work written as a continuation of Thucydides’ Histo-
ries. It deals with the history of Athens and Greece in the late fifth and early
fourth centuries bc and presents a documentary tradition that differs from that
offered by Xenophon’s Hellenica. Scholars hold different views about the num-
ber of papyri that can be ascribed to the ho. There is general agreement on
three of them: the London papyrus, P. Oxy. v 842, the Florence papyrus, psi xiii
1304, and the Cairo papyrus, 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1; on the basis of stylistic rea-
sons almost all1 believe that they come from the same work. At the same time,
the attribution to the ho of other papyri—P. Mich. 5982 and P. Mich. 5796b
(the so-called Theramenes papyrus), P. Oxy. ii 302, P. Oxy. xi 1365 and P. Oxy.
xiii 1610—is controversial.2
The London Papyrus narrates events from 397 to 395 bc: the naval operations
led by the Athenian Conon near Caunus and Rhodes against the Spartans; the
Theban-Phocaean conflict which caused the outbreak of the Corinthian war;
an important excursus on the Boeotian constitution; the military operations
led by Agesilaus in Asia Minor against the Persians. The Florence papyrus offers
some events of the Decelean war (409–407 bc). The Cairo papyrus deals with
earlier events than the other two papyri, and exactly with the period from 411
to 406bc.
The script of these three papyri is dated between the late first century and
the late second century ad. Since each of these papyri is part of a different copy
of the work, the hypothesis that they belong together relies on the connections
between their contents as well as on stylistic reasons. As for the date of compo-
sition, scholars commonly agree that it can be fixed within wide margins after

1 With the exception of Canfora (1970): 211–217.

2 Chambers (1993), Mariotta (2012): 139–154. The Theramenes papyrus is ascribed to Ephorus
by Loftus (2000): 11–20 and Hurni (2010): 234–238. See also Youtie-Merkelbach (1968): 161–
169, Andrewes (1970): 35–38, Luppe (1978): 14–16, Breitenbach (1989): 121–135, Bearzot (1991):
65–87, Engels (1993): 125–155, Vannini (2012): 87–95, Occhipinti (2014 b). See Appendix.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_002

2 chapter 1

387/386 and before 346 bc.3 Despite that, however, thematic and internal evi-
dence will allow us to suggest a new chronological framework for dating the
ho’s writing (chh. 3, 5, 6).

1.1 The Authorship

The first papyrus of the work—that is, the London papyrus—was discovered in
19064 and published in 1908 (ed. pr.), and since then the ho has been ascribed
to many different candidates: Androtion, Cratippus, Daimachus, Ephorus of
Cyme, Theopompus of Chios.
More than a century of researches does not allow us to give here an exaus-
tive and analytical picture of all scholarly opinions on the authorship issue. A
useful tool might be Lérida Lafarga’s commentary on the ho ([2007]: 114–206)
which offers an overall picture of the issue.5 Therefore, I give just some of the
first and/or most important studies. Momigliano ([1931]: 29–49),6 following De
Sanctis’ idea,7 suggested Androtion, author of a local history of Attica (Atthis),
in consideration that the ho’s description of Greek policy seems to rely upon
someone who wrote from an Athenian perspective; moreover, the chronologi-
cal framework of the ho, presumably based on a seasonal succession schema
(summers and winters), is typically Athenian.
Cratippus has strong supportes still today (lastly Schepens [2007]: 48); and
the first editors of the London papyrus, Grenfell-Hunt (1908 and 1909), were
already in doubt whether the work should be ascribed to Cratippus or Theo-
pompus.8 While some considered Cratippus an author of the late Hellenismus,9
others were in favour of the Cratippus-theory. Breitenbach ([1970]: 418) found
a few key aspects which led him to identify the Oxyrhynchus historian with

3 Bruce (1967): 4.
4 The Florence papyrus was found at Oxyrhynchus in 1934; the Cairo papyrus was first published
by Koenen in 1976.
5 On the issue, see, moreover, Bianchetti-Cataudella (2001), Canfora (2002–2003): 213–235, and
Pintaudi (2003): 5–95.
6 Published later in Momigliano (1980), 801–819.
7 De Sanctis (1907–1908): 331–356.
8 However, later, when Grenfell-Hunt published the papyri 1365 and 1610, they maintained that
those papyri belonged to the same work along with number 842 (the London papyrus), and
that their author was Ephorus. Grenfell-Hunt (1915): 107 and (1919): 109–111.
9 Schwartz (1909), 501 s., followed by Momigliamo (cit.), on the basis of Marcellinus’ evidence,
Vit. Thuc. 31.
the ho in the view of modern scholars 3

Cratippus: both are followers of Thucydides; Cratippus criticises Thucydides’

use of speeches, and the Oxyrhynchus historian does not insert direct speeches
within his narrative;10 Cratippus presumably deals with the trial against the
Hermocopid conspirators within a digression, and the ho often relates in a
digressive way those events that Thucydides had already dealt with.11
According to Jacoby ([1926]: 17–35 and Comm. 6–20) the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian should be identified with Daimachus, a Boeotian writer, from Plataea,
whose work was a source for Ephorus’ Histories. It is true that a great deal of
interest for Boeotian history and constitution is found in the ho’s narrative,
but this is the only clue supporting Jacoby’s theory.12
As for Androtion, Cratippus and Daimachus very little information comes
from their fragments. In my view, the format of Androtion’s work (chronicle
form under archon-names) is quite alien to the format of the ho and conse-
quently excludes Androtion from the authorship issue.13 The (probably) Athe-
nian Cratippus and Daimachus of Plataea are just names to us, unless of course
Cratippus is the author of the ho. Furthermore, it is important to stress that we
do not know much about the style of their works because their narrative is not
preserved.
The claims of Ephorus14 were favourably considered by Walker ([1913]: 49–
78),15 who based his arguments on assumed correspondences between the ho’s
content, style and thematic interests and those of two authors who excerpted
Ephorus, that is Diodorus and Polyaenus.16 Yet Ephorus is particularly prob-
lematic for several reasons. His Histories is not extant and we rely solely on the
passages that later writers cite under his name (Diodorus, Strabo, Plutarch);
therefore we cannot say much about the author’s style.17 In a few cases we can

10 However this is not true. See Appendix, 1. A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Ther-
amenes Papyrus (P. Mich. 5982).
11 For the attribution of the ho to Cratippus see Pareti (1912–1913): 398–517, Lipsius (1916):
2–5, Kalinka (1917): 409–429, Bartoletti (1959): xvii–xxi, Accame (1978): 125–183, Harding
(1987): 104–107, Chambers (1993): xvii–xxv.
12 Mossé (2001): 189–192 has recently suggested this theory again.
13 See Harding (1994), Rhodes (2014).
14 Reuss (1909): 37f., Judeich (1911): 94–105.
15 The scholar had previously been in favour of the Cratippus-theory; see Walker (1908): 356–
371.
16 Also later Ephorus will gain followers, such as Gelzer (1914): 125, Grenfell-Hunt (1915): 107
and (1919): 109–111, Schwartz (1937): 21, note 3, and a few others. See lastly Mariotta (2012):
139–154 and (2015): 507–514. Schwartz had previously supported the Theopompus-theory
against Cratippus ([1909]: 481–502).
17 Walker (1913): 70–72 found similarities of style between the ho and Ephorus.
4 chapter 1

read Ephorus’ own exact words, for example in fragments preserved by Strabo,
Athenaeus and Stephanus of Byzantium. But for him, unfortunately, we do not
have long quotations in which Athenaeus preserves the historian’s words and
prose, which we find, for instance, of Theopompus’ Philippica. Furthermore,
it was considered an established fact for nearly a century that Diodorus used
Ephorus as his main authority for books 11 through 16 of his Bibliotheke, and it
was generally assumed that Diodorus was capable of no more than mechan-
ically reproducing the words of his sources. However, the relation between
Diodorus and Ephorus is quite controversial. Recent contributions have tried
to reinterpret Diodorus in the light of the expectations of his own times by
approaching the issue in different terms, that is by identifying and explain-
ing the historiographical, political and philosophical categories that Diodorus
applied to his work, considering also the historian’s Roman background and
his moral outlook.18 We are also used to hearing from the tradition of Quel-
lenforschung that the ho was used by Diodorus, but that it only came to him
through Ephorus’ mediation; today, however, scholars are of the opinion that
Diodorus might have gained his knowledge of fifth- and fourth-century his-
tory through several other sources rather than through Ephorus alone, and may
have read them directly instead of through Ephorus’ mediation.19
The attribution of the ho to Theopompus depends on assumed analogies
between that work and the lost Hellenica by Theopompus (just a few frag-
ments of it remain). A lot of people ascribed the ho to Theopompus: we can
mention Busolt ([1908]: 255–285), Wilcken ([1908]: 475–477), Meyer (1909),
Swoboda ([1910]: 315–334), Wilamowitz-Moellendorff ([1912]: 3–318), Laqueur
([1934]: 2176–223), Lehmann ([1972 a]: 385–398; [1978]: 73–93; [1984]: 19–44),
and Ruschenbusch ([1980]: 81–90; [1982]: 91–94). In fact the Theopompus-
theory was initially very attractive, but it was gradually abandoned. Only re-
cently has Bleckmann’s monograph (1998) re-evaluated it.20 All things consid-
ered, perhaps Theopompus might appear the best candidate for the authorship
of the ho, especially in light of the fact that we do have extensive parts of his
narrative (Philippica), though they are preserved in a fragmentary state. Never-
theless, the evidence emerging from my researches leads me to think differently
(ch. 9).
To add just a few remarks, the Theramenes papyrus (P. Mich. 5982 and
P. Mich. 5796b) has recently been attributed to Ephorus; but I have found some
evidence of stylistic similarities between the Theramenes papyrus and the text

18 Sacks (1990) and (1994): 213–232.

19 Rood (2004 a): 341–395, Parmeggiani (2011).
20 See also Bleckmann (2006).
the ho in the view of modern scholars 5

of the ho.21 I have also proposed to supplement column ii of P. Oxy. ii 302. This
fragment, along with P. Oxy. xi 1365 and P. Oxy. xiii 1610, was attributed at dif-
ferent times to Ephorus or to the Oxyrhynchus historian. Stylistic observations
suggest that P. Oxy. ii 302, P. Oxy. xi 1365 and the ho are by the same author,
while P. Oxy. xiii 1610 might be part of another work (presumably Ephorus’).22
All this could be a good starting point for further contributions to a discussion
of the authorship issue in the future.

1.2 A New Proposal and Old Theories

The ho is particularly problematic for many reasons. We do not know the date
of composition, the author’s identity, nor his method and aims. Scholars have
focused on particular, often isolated, topics such as the question of the author-
ship, the historical perspective of the ho,23 the character of the Theramenes
papyrus and general issues related to the so-called ‘fragmentary’ historians
(writers of Hellenica from the fourth century bc).24 The traditional and com-
mon approach taken by those scholars who studied the ho is primarily his-
torical. Scholars usually study the ho in order to find new versions of historical
events that sometimes contrast with those related by the parallel account given
by Xenophon’s Hellenica; and the main questions addressed to these works are
intended to show whether one account is more trustworthy and reliable than
another.25 This is the approach most followed by scholars of historiography,
who tend to discuss and assess the historical reliability of what the ho relates.
This book is more unconventional in that it offers a historiographical study
of the ho supported by papyrological enquiries and a plurality of literary strate-
gies, such as intertextuality and narratology, which without any doubt will con-
tribute to the progress of research in ancient historiography. It fits, moreover,
with a specific strand of studies that has developed especially in the Anglo-
Saxon and American academic world and applies intertextuality and a literary
approach to ancient historical works.26 The last few decades in particular have
seen a full flowering of the study of allusion and intertextuality in classical texts.

21 Occhipinti (2014 b): 34–44. See Appendix, 1. A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the
Theramenes Papyrus (P. Mich. 5982).
22 Occhipinti (2014 a): 25–33. See Africa (1962): 86–89.
23 See lastly Pownall (2004).
24 Shrimpton (1991), Flower (1994), Parmeggiani (2011).
25 Bleckmann (1998) and (2006). Lastly, Valente (2014).
26 Marincola (2011): 1–31, Baragwanath (2012): 317–341, Flower (2012), Pelling (2013 b): 1–20.
6 chapter 1

As scholars have pointed out, the study of allusion was well developed in the
ancient world, and ancient literary criticism is full of remarks comparing how
later authors refer to and modify their predecessors. The ancients saw them-
selves as working within a tradition that had endorsed certain models that
had attained the status of canon: later writers were expected to compete, and
indeed saw themselves as competing, with their great predecessors. With such
a conscious looking-back at previous models, it is inevitable that historians—
and not only poets—would also try to bring something of their predecessors
into their accounts. ‘Intertextuality’ is a more recent term than ‘allusion,’ and
though it clearly deals with some elements of the same phenomenon, allusion
thinks primarily in terms of individuals—an author intentionally calling to
mind another author—whereas intertextuality thinks of the relations between
texts as functions of discourse.27 Intertextuality considers echoes and traces of
earlier texts as inevitable in any system of language and especially, one might
say, in highly formal and stylised genres such as historiography. Nevertheless,
for the future we should perhaps ask ourselves whether ‘allusion’ also has a
place in the criticism of historiography, with its greater focus on an intention
of the author that is conveyed by the text and acknowledged by its reader-
ship as part of the construction of that author’s personality. The author of the
ho, for instance, appears to be referring to previous and contemporary histori-
ans, whose historiographical patterns he adopts and modifies; his ‘allusions’ to
Xenophon’s Hellenica seem pretty clear (ch. 3), while in other cases (i.e. ch. 8
and 9) the question of whether he created a dialogue with past authors delib-
erately or unconsciously may well remain an open issue. Furthermore, anyone
who studies historiographical thinking in terms of intertextuality may feel the
need to turn also to narratology as a helpful tool of scientific enquiry, not only
because it is particularly innovative and productive, but primarily because it
allows us to analyse and describe authorial narrative techniques with extreme
precision. Originating in France (G. Genette) and the Netherlands (M. Bal, I. De
Jong), and widespread especially in the Anglo-Saxon and American academic
world, this approach is currently applied in classical studies to canonical histor-
ical and literary texts; it has never been applied to the ho before now. In some
cases (see especially chapters 2, 3, 5, 8 and 9) this methodology has allowed me
to assess several textual elements and devices and thereby cast new light on the
authorial intention in regard to certain questions (the evaluation of Athenian
activism, the relationship with Xenophon’s Hellenica and Persian sources, the
approach to historical causation).

27 Hinds (1998).
the ho in the view of modern scholars 7

The ho has received little attention from literary scholarship, nor has it ever
been studied by using literary tools of enquiry. Only historical matters and par-
tially related topics have been dealt with in several articles on the authorship
issue or on the historical value of the work and its content. Numerous editions
have been produced, though they do not contribute substantially to solving
the many papyrological and historiographical problems created by the text. In
fact, the editions published after Bartoletti’s (1959) generally tend to retain the
papyrological supplements made by that scholar and do not provide any com-
mentary;28 on the other hand the commentaries that have been produced show
interest solely in historical matters.29 This monograph will be the first step of
a gradual reassessment centred, but not exclusively so, on the ho. It will help
us to understand the place of the ho in the development of Greek historiogra-
phy by setting up an accurate basis for comparison to the practices of earlier
and contemporary historians, in addition to advancing our understanding of
the relationship between the ho and Diodorus’ historiographical practice.
Broadly speaking, anyone who studies the ho is usually led to take a posi-
tion on the authorship issue, whatever the issue being dealt with, and what-
ever approach is taken. On the contrary, this work is proposing something
new and unconventional: it deals primarily with historiographical issues, leav-
ing aside the debate over the authorship momentarily and taking it up again
only in chapter 9. Our concern is not to understand which author (of the ho,
Xenophon, Diodorus, etc.) is speaking the truth, or what piece of narrative is
more accurate than another from a historical perspective; nor do we offer any
historical reconstructions. It is a comparison of the historiographical choices of
the ho with the practices of earlier and contemporary historians that provides
a basis for a fuller understanding of the place of that work in the development
of Greek historiography. Besides, another important issue is here thoroughly
discussed, that is the relationship between the ho and Diodorus’ historiograph-
ical practice. This is necessary because Diodorus used the ho extensively as his

28 Take, for example, Chambers’ edition (1993).

29 Bruce (1967), McKechnie-Kern (1988), Lérida Lafarga (2007). I studied the text of the
Theramenes papyrus (P. Mich. 5982 and P. Mich. 5796b), the Florence papyrus (psi xiii
1304) and P. Oxy. ii 302 from a papyrological perspective, and I found interesting evidence
which enabled me to propose new supplements (published in zpe and apf). I realised
that all the texts ascribed to the ho need to be reconsidered from a papyrological point
of view; therefore, in collaboration with Giuseppe Mariotta, I have been preparing a new
critical edition of the ho together with an accompanying commentary for the Italian series
“I Frammenti degli Storici Greci”. Cfr. Occhipinti (2013 b): 72–76, (2014 a): 25–33 and (2014
b): 34–44.
8 chapter 1

source (though not exclusively), especially with reference to the events of the
last phases of the Peloponnesian war and Agesilaus’ campaign in Asia (books
13–15). This type of investigation is, moreover, quite productive and, as a result,
it can cast light on the authorship issue as well—but that only at the end of the
procedure, not at the beginning.

1.3 The ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica

The study of the ho is made by way of literary comparison between its narra-
tive and Xenophon’s Hellenica, Thucydides’ Histories, Theopompus’ and Eph-
orus’ fragments, Diodorus’ books 13–15 of his Bibliotheke.30 This excludes, how-
ever, any other Xenophontic works. The choice is partially due to reasons of
thematic selection (i.e. peculiar historical subjects); it can also be explained
by the fact that apparently there is a close relation especially between the
ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica. This special relation has given way to discus-
sions and disagreements among scholars. Here I give two of the most relevant
views about that association. Cartledge in his Agesilaos and the Crisis of Sparta
defined Xenophon’s Hellenica as the memories of an old man, who intends
to give utterance to correct conceptions that meet the needs of readers well
schooled for virtue;31 the historian would resemble a figure familiar to British
audience, someone like ‘the retired general, staunch Tory and Anglican, firm
defender of the Establishment in Church and State, and at the same time a
reflective man with ambitions to write edifying literature.’32 The scholar con-
sidered the ho a more reliable testimony than Xenophon’s Hellenica; as for
the historicity of both works, in fact, he suggested the superiority of the ho
compared to Xenophon’s narrative, which is more concerned with illustrating
ethical lessons to be learned from individuals or peoples:33

It is of course impossible to deliver a final judgment on a historian on

the basis of about 1200 surviving lines, but the little we have […] suffices
to show that p [the Oxyrhynchus historian] was far closer in approach and
execution to Thucydides than was Xenophon. Where it is possible to com-
pare p and Xenophon directly, for example over the autumn 395 campaign
of Agesilaos in Asia Minor, […] the differences between them leap on the

30 At times Herodotus’ narrative is considered a precedent model for comparison.

31 Cartledge (1987): 65.
32 Irwin (1974): 410 in Cartledge cit.
33 Cartledge (1987): 66.
the ho in the view of modern scholars 9

eye. While Xenophon was clearly concerned primarily with the person-
ality of Agesilaos and so concentrated on episodes that lent themselves
to more picturesque or dramatic treatment, p as a good military histo-
rian sturdily ignored the incidentals retailed by Xenophon and allowed
the reader to see clearly the truth Xenophon strove to obfuscate, namely
that Agesilaos achieved no notable victories. p’s flat, ‘antirhetorical’ style
[…] was an admirable vehicle for this approach.

With a certain enthusiasm Cartledge defined the author of the ho as a historian

of the first rank, maintaining that he is even superior to his model, Thucydides.
This would be shown by the account of the Boeotian constitution as it was in
395bc, which Thucydides has taken for granted providing just isolated details
throughout his Histories. Besides, the ho’s interest in displaying the rivalry of
factions within Greek states and in connecting domestic politics and foreign
policy would show features that Thucydides tended to overlook.34
An opposite view has recently been held by Bleckmann. He has expressed
his theory in the work Fiktion als Geschichte.35 Following Busolt’s vision, he sug-
gests that the text of the ho is a variation and re-adaptation of Xenophon’s nar-
rative. According to him, in fact, both authors, Xenophon and the Oxyrhynchus
historian, appear to have selected identical historical items to develop, but, in
arranging the material coming from Xenophon, the Oxyrhynchian historian is
said to have inserted mere variants (modified names of persons and places, pat-
terns, and so on):36

[…] Viele Indizien sprechen dafür, daß Xenophon die authentische und
die Hellenika Oxyrhynchia die späte und frei erfundene Darstellung bie-
tet. Akzeptiert man einige Grundgegenheiten der Biographie Xenophons
als real gegeben, etwa die Tatsache, daß er zum militärischen Stab des
Agesilaos gehörte, dann wird man annehmen können, daß er dort, wo
er deutliche sachliche Unterschiede zur Hellenika Oxyrhynchia-Tradition
aufweist, das Richtige bietet.

Narrative, especially historical narrative, is neither neutral nor ingenuous, and

any sophisticated reader knows that there are at least two main perspectives
of textual reading: the one consists in considering a text as a sample of narra-

34 Cartledge (1987): 66–67.

35 Bleckmann (2006): 9–21 and 132–145.
36 Bleckmann (2006): 136.
10 chapter 1

tive history, and the other regards a text as a reliable reproduction of reality.
The relation between fictiveness and reality is, however, controversial. Bleck-
mann’s monograph has the valuable merit of offering interesting theoretical
observations about this relation. It has traced four different models, according
to approaches followed by scholars who studied historical works:

– To maintain that two accounts, which come from two different works, show
the factual knowledge held by their authors, who are contemporary to the
events (Model 1)
– To maintain that two accounts, which come from two different works, can-
not demonstrate the factual knowledge of their authors, because of their
fictional character (Model 2)
– To maintain that only one of two accounts is reliable (original account),
whereas the other arranges events freely and, in particular,
a. independently from the original account (Model 3) or
b. in dependence on the original account (Model 4)

Bleckmann has, moreover, shown how these four models can all be found
among scholars who have compared Xenophon’s Hellenica with the ho. Model
1 is the approach most followed by scholars of historiography, while model 2,
comes from scholars of classical philology who consider history a genre closely
connected with poetry.37 Cartledge’s book on Agesilaus is based on model 3,
because the scholar maintains the superiority of the ho (original account) over
Xenophon’s narrative. For his part, Bleckmann follows model 4.
Some of the he issues raised by both Cartledge and Bleckmann will be
extensively dealt with throughout this book (i.e. the relationship between the
ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica in reference to a few episodes of the campaign
of Agesilaus in Asia, the Corinthian war, the last events of the Peloponensian
war; chapters 3, 4, 6), but according to a different perspective, in order to
achieve different goals. We aim to evaluate the ho both in relation to fifth-
and fourth-century historiographical practices and as a source for Diodorus’
Bibliotheke, without any attempt to answer questions about the historicity of
what is said; we intend to find new historiographical patterns to cast further
light on the character of the ho’s writing. To some extent this way of working
is inspired by that literary approach that, in accordance with contemporary
postmodern criticism, is taken by scholars of classical philology who consider
history as a literary product, one that descends from epic poetry. Gomme in

37 Gelzer (1914): 126, Gomme (1984): 1–48, Lossau (1990): 47–52, Rengakos (2004): 73–99.
the ho in the view of modern scholars 11

the preface to his book, The Greek Attitude to Poetry and History,38 which deals
chiefly with Homer, Herodotus, Aeschylus and Thucydides, showed what is
peculiar of the subjects he chose: the authors in question share the principle
that Greek poetry may concern a historical subject and history may be written
in a poetic manner. Literary and fictive aspects can be considered features
proper to ancient historiographical practice.

This book is divided into two parts. In the first part discussions involve a close
analysis of the ho against other sources relating the same facts; the second
part offers thematic chapters. This produces a tight separation of the very
technical material from material of broader interest, though in some ways the
first section lays the foundations for the second.
I follow McKechnie-Kern’s edition of the ho with relative translation (slight-
ly modified). In one case I refer to Bartoletti’s edition (at ch. 4.2). As for the Cairo
papyrus I give Koenen’s text. Throughout the book the emphasis is mine.

38 Gomme (1984): v.
part 1

∵
 chapter 2

The Work and the Reader

The main group of the three papyrus fragments which form the ho, that
is, P. Oxy. v 842, offers a continuous narration that deals separately with a
set of three contemporary scenarios: events happened in mainland Greece
and preceding the Corinthian war, Agesilaus’ campaign in Asia Minor, and
Conon’s activity in the southern part of Asia Minor. This papyrus group will
be under consideration throughout this book, for it is the most extensive of all
fragments, and, moreover, gives us a good sample of the narrative structure of
the work.
An important issue is raised here: is the ho written according to the narrative
model offered by Thucydides? If it is true that historians who followed Thu-
cydides’ historiographical method wrote ‘Hellenica,’ that is, historical works
ordered according to an annalistic framework, nevertheless fourth-century
writers of histories seem to have progressively distanced themselves from their
model and to have combined together Herodotus’ narrative style and method
of composition with that of Thucydides.

2.1 The Narrative Character of Fourth-Century Hellenica

Scholars interested in Greek historiography agree that in the Hellenistic period

the use of Herodotus was quite extensive. In particular, as Strasburger has
shown, the two main traditions of Herodotean and Thucydidean historiogra-
phy were at the same time distinct and often combined.1 Recently, it has been
suggested that a broad use of Herodotus’ work is also traceable in texts from
the late Hellenistic period, such as the geographical and historical works of Po-
lybius, Posidonius and Strabo, which contain historiographical, ethnographical
and geographical material.2 In addition to this, it seems highly probable too
that the debt to Herodotus in the so-called followers of Thucydides, who wrote
Hellenica as a continuation of Thucydides’Histories, was broader than has been
noticed so far.3

1 Strasburger (1966): 57–58.

2 Clarke (1999).
3 Murray (1972): 200–213.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_003

16 chapter 2

Labels such as Hellenica and Historiai are peculiarly related to modern

terminology,4 and accounts that modern scholars have called Zeitgeschichte,
that is some sort of Greek contemporary histories which, broadly speaking,
appear as structured in annalistic fashion, were not defined with specific terms
in antiquity.5 Jacoby considered Thucydides the predecessor of the so-called
Hellenica which offered a picture of Greek history—either contemporary or
with an earlier start-point—as conceived from a Greek perspective. Despite
that, he aknowledged that it is not always possible to distinguish exactly what
aspects are peculiar and characteristic of the Historiai, or universal histories,
and what are, instead, typical of the Hellenica; therefore, he published in one
single volume of his Collection (Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker),
ii c, fragments of historical works which he supposed to be samples of Uni-
versalgeschichte or Zeitgeschichte.6 Ancient Greeks and Romans did not use
the expression ‘universal history,’ nor did they define the authors who wrote
works dealing with the history of the Afro-Eurasian oikoumene (such as Po-
lybius, Diodorus, Trogus and Livy) as ‘universal historians.’ In the Hellenistic
period, for instance, the term ἱστορίαι appeared quite imprecise in its mean-
ing: in fact, it referred to every kind of historical works; while the expression
κατ’ ἐξοχήν was used to define annalistic accounts, genealogies, local chroni-
cles, monographs, etc. Furthermore, it seems that, at least until Polybius’ times,
a clear distinction between ‘continuous, or uninterrupted narratives’ (κατ’ ἐξο-
χήν) and monographs was not consistently established.7
As is well-known, the canonical title that ancient Greeks and Romans gave to
fourth-century annalistic histories is Hellenica. In a strict sense the expression
‘ta hellenica’ refers to those annalistic compositions written by the followers of
Thucydides, such as Xenophon, Theopompus, Cratippus, and the Oxyrhynchus
historian. But, in a broad sense, this expression suits later historians as well,
who wrote Macedonica and Philippica.8 To give some examples, the Histories
of Duris, usually mentioned as Macedonica, is once called Hellenica (Diod.
15.60.6);9 a certain Antipater wrote a history on Philip ii, which was entitled
πράξεις ἑλληνικαί (Epist. Socrat. 30 = Theop. FGrHist 115, t 7);10 Callisthenes

4 Both concepts developed in Reinassence thought. Cf. Vattuone (1998): 57–96, Marincola
(1999): 281–324, Desideri (2001): 199–209.
5 Bloch (1956): 34, note 53.
6 Jacoby, FGrHist ii c Comm. pp. 1–2.
7 Canfora (1999): 92–100.
8 Bloch (1956): 43 f.
9 Cf. Landucci Gattinoni (1997).
10 He did so probably in competition with the historian Theopompus.
the work and the reader 17

called Hellenica both his Greek history of the years 387/86–357/56bc and
his monograph on Alexander:11 thus Ἀλεξάνδρου πράξεις were considered by
that historian as Ἑλλήνων πράξεις.12 Later, after Alexander’s Asiatic campaign,
the typology of Hellenica probably opened to new contents: the Hellenica of
Anaximenes of Lampsacus, for instance, started with a mythical theogony,13
which obviously had nothing more to do with Greek events, that is to say, ‘ta
hellenica.’
Thus, the equivalence and interchangeability of such labels Hellenica, Mace-
donica, Philippica, and Alexandrou praxeis, suggest that in the course of the
fourth century the Hellenica had been progressively referring to broad con-
tents, which were not limited to Greek subjects. It is also possible that the
Hellenica had been modifying their previous narrative structure, dealing now
with parallel accounts of contemporary events happened in different places;
these works seem to show a sort of synchronistic narrative adapted to their
annalistic framework. This probably happened because the traditional chrono-
logical framework was judged too restrictive, in consideration of the fact that
new political powers had been growing: therefore, the writers of Hellenica were
induced to extend their subject matter to Macedonian, Persian and West (Sicil-
ian) history as well, for those scenarios were considered now as belonging to
Greek history. The physical space was perceived as a whole, according to a new
vision of political realities, seen as forming a network of relations and connec-
tions.
Before turning to the Oxyrhynchus historian and his method of composition,
and in coherence with the picture presented thus far, it is helpful to outline
some aspects of Xenophon’s and Theopompus’ narrative style, to throw further
light on this new way of thinking of ‘ta hellenica’ by fourth-century historians.
It is interesting to notice that accounts of Persian and Sicilian history were
inserted within the first two books of the Hellenica of Xenophon (1.2.19; 2.1.8–
9; 1.1.37; 1.5.21; 2.2.24; 2.3.5); we regard these passages as interpolations, which
are evidently later than Xenophon’s lifetime. In fact, aside from these inter-
polations, there is no further evidence of synchronistic narrative within the
Hellenica.14 Leaving aside the chronological errors that the interpolations may
offer and the controversial issue about the identity of the assumed interpola-

11 Schwartz (1900): 106.

12 Bloch (1956): 44, note 77.
13 Jacoby, FGrHist ii a p. 1.
14 There are other passages where Xenophon refers to Sicilian events or personages, such as
Hermocrates (1.1.27–31; 1.3.13) or the two Dionysii (6.2.4; 6.2.33; 7.1.20–22 and 28–29; 7.4.12),
but these events and personages are directly and closely related to Greek affairs.
18 chapter 2

tor or interpolators,15 let us consider that these Sicilian and Persian insertions
are arranged ad annum, in conformity with the chronological framework of
the main narrative of Xenophon’s Hellenica which is centred on Greek his-
tory. This seems to confirm that, immediately after Xenophon, a new view of
historical writing developed; in coherence with it, contemporary events, hap-
pened in different places, were now narrated through synchronisms, jumping
from one scenario to another. To some extent this characterisation of writ-
ing through synchronisms might be applied to Thucydides too, but perhaps
we should consider the peculiarity of his Histories. Thucydides presumably
came to be concerned with Sicilian history progressively. After the second Athe-
nian expedition to Sicily was undertaken, he abandoned his previous project
on the Archidamian war and made his work include broader scenarios.16 So,
with a sort of syncronistic arrangement of the narrative some chapters of Sicil-
ian history go well with the main account of Spartan fortifications of Decelea
(book 7.18–28). Something similar can be said of book eight with reference to
Persian manoeuvres in the Aegean Sea. Thucydides usually shows little interest
in Persian matters throughout the Histories,17 but near the end of it he offers
some stuff18 arranged in a way which fits within the main narrative timeline,
as if he realised the important role played by spatraps through their involve-
ment in Greek affairs. This led scholars to assume that the historian began a
revision of his earlier work, in order to insert Persian material into it, but he
could not achieve his goal because of his death.19 However, aside from this, one
has to admit that Thucydides’ Histories shows tighter chronological and spatial
boundaries than fourth-century historical works, and this partially limited the
scale of its subject matter.
The second example comes from Theopompus’ syngraphe or, to be pre-
cise, from what Dionysius of Halicarnassus relates about it (t 20). According
to the rhetorician, the historian dealt with an extraordinary variety of themes,
all interrelated: origins of peoples, foundations of cities (ktiseis), geographical

15 Beloch (1931): 254 f. considered Timaeus the interpolator of the Sicilian passages, while
Raubitschek (1973): 315–325 indicated Xenophon; see also Lotze (1974): 215–217. According
to Mazzini (1971): 77–95 several different interpolators added the Sicilian and Persian
sections to Xenophon’s narrative.
16 Musti (1988): 39–51, Meister (1992): 59 ff. Cf. Cataldi (1990), Bianco (1992): 7–19, Muratore
(1992): 37–62, Burelli Bergese (1992): 63–79, Corcella (1996): 9–41.
17 At 4.50.3 and 5.1.
18 At 8.5.4 the historian begins the history of the negotiations of Tissaphernes and Pharna-
bazus with Sparta, in the winter of 413/412.
19 Andrewes (1961): 1–18.
the work and the reader 19

places, thaumasia, paradoxa, laws and governments, Greeks and Barbarians,

lives of kings and βίους ἀνδρῶν καὶ πράξεις καὶ τέλη καὶ τύχας (§ 5). Dionysius
points out that, despite this, the narrative is not straightforward because of a
frequent use of digressions, most of which he judges as neither necessary nor
appropriate, but just a matter of narrative delay. Even though the full context
of Dionysius’ passage does not allow us to understand which Theopompean
works the rhetorician exactly refers to, nonetheless, these general aspects of
Theopompus’ historical syngraphe, as described by Dionysius, seem to be fea-
tures of both the Hellenica and the Philippica. This is suggested by the evi-
dence coming from Photius, who maintains that he read the twelfth book of
the Philippica, which others thought to have been lost (t 18), and gives a sum-
mary of its content (f 103). From Photius’ statement we can deduce that the
historian inserted an excursus on the Cyprian king of Salamis, Evagoras, into
the section dealing with the alliance that the Egyptian ruler, Acoris, concluded
with Cyprus against the Persians (§1, 391–380/79bc):20 the narrative goes back
through time until Evagoras’ ascension to the throne of Cyprus (§ 2, a. 410),21
and backwards still further till mythical times, when Cyprus was conquered by
Agamemnon (§3); finally the tale goes forward to the starting point, that is the
war between Evagoras and the Persian King (§§4; 6; 9–11, 390–380bc), and ends
with the death of the Salaminian ruler (§12, 374bc). It is striking that a piece of
Greek history, the account of the peace of Antalcidas, has been inserted en pas-
sant within the main account, the Cyprian war (§§ 5; 7–8). The alliance of the
Egyptian ruler, Acoris, with Psidians (§ 13), gives occasion for a further excursus,
which has a similar narrative structure to that offered by the previous excursus
(§ 1–3): this is an ethnographical digression on southern Anatolian lands and
peoples, such as the Asclepiades of Cos and Cnidus (§ 14) and Mopsus’ descend-
ants in Lycia and Pamphilia (§15). At this point, as at chapter 3, the historian
inserted the account of a Greek ktisis, the foundation of Pamphilia, followed
by the report of a war fought between Greeks and Pamphilians (§ 16); finally
the excursus ends with a further war, fought between Lycians and Telmessi
(§ 17).
Jacoby, referring to the episode of Agamemnon (§ 3), defines it as ‘exkurs im
exkurs.’22 Indeed, it seems as if the author manages a play of ‘Chinese boxes,’

20 Costa (1974): 40–56; according to Jacoby, FGrHist ii b Comm. pp. 372–374, this war is dated
to 392–380 bc. See also my article (2010): 23–43.
21 Presumably this event is to be dated to 413/412bc, as was suggested by Giuffrida (1996):
589–627 with good evidence.
22 Jacoby, FGrHist ii b Comm. p. 372.
20 chapter 2

in which bigger containers include smaller ones within. The shape of the two
digressions (on Evagoras and on Anatolian peoples) recalls the Herodotean
model and more precisely two main Herodotean digressions, which—as in
Theopompus—come from the same book (in Herodotus’ case, the fourth of
the Histories) and have been fitted into a military context: the former, on
the Scythians, was inserted within the narrative of Darius’ expedition against
Scythia (4.1–82), and the latter, on Cyrene, was placed into the account of the
war led by the Egyptian satrap Ariandes against the cities of Cyrene and Barce
(4.145–205). In their turn, these two excursuses contain so many digressions in
ring composition style, on various subjects, such as historical events, mythical
tales, geographical and ethnographical information, that the main narrative
thread appears as completely unrelated to these excursuses, both as regards
content and also from a chronological point of view.23
We may presume that in book 12 Theopompus resorts to his usual practice
of going backwards and dealing with the origins of a people every time he
writes on a country and its own population; this way of writing characterises,
in fact, both the two main digressions of the twelfth book examined above.
Furthermore, this peculiar method of composition was later used by Pompeius
Trogus too, who entitled ‘Philippica’ his universal history of the world under
Roman rule.24 The summary of the twelfth book of Theopompus’ Philippica
shows, one might say, a ‘global’ view of historical happenings, and confirms the
idea that new political realities, which had been previously considered as not
central in any discussion about the Greek mainland, now deserve the attention
of historians.
It seems that the systematic insertion of digressions, τὸ πολύμορφον τῆς γρα-
φῆς, was a structural feature of Theopompus’ narrative. Although Dionysius
appreciated the qualities of Theopompus’ historical writing (‘the crowning and
most characteristic of his achievement is something never accomplished with
such precision and power by any other historian either before or after his time
[…]’ t 20, §7),25 nevertheless he probably did not realise fully the value of
these digressions, παρεμβολαί, judging them as just παιδιῶδες, some sort of play-
ful narrative. Dionysius presumably failed to understand what is fundamen-
tally a Herodotean technique of structuring the narrative through digressions:

23 Cf. Lang (1984): 1–17.

24 It is not surprising then if we assume that Trogus’ debt to Theopompus is considerable.
See my article (2011): 295 f.
25 Dionysius is referring here to Theopompus’ peculiar way of dealing with the issue of
historical causation.
the work and the reader 21

several interpretations of a story are offered and, consequently, several lay-

ers of understanding it. Similarly, Dionysius did not appreciate Thucydides’
method of composition: Dionysius’ criticism of Thucydides’ arrangement of
his first book of the Histories, which is found in De Thucydide, clearly shows
that the rhetorician prefers a straightforward, linear exposition, and just does
not grasp the subtlety with which Thucydides displays his material in ways and
sequences that make causal interactions clearer to readers.

2.2 P. Oxy. v 842: Annalistic Framework, Synchronistic Narrative

The Oxyrhynchus historian probably regarded some form of chronological

framework as a natural and convenient way of organising his material within
the narrative. The historian’s ordering principle seems to be chronological, as
the notorious formula of transition, borrowed from Thucydides, shows: ἀρχο-
μένου] δ̣ὲ τοῦ [θ]έρους τῇ μὲν | [ ......................] ἔτος ὄγδον / ‘at the beginning
of the summer … the eighth year began.’ Moreover, the narrative may also have
been divided into years starting with the beginning of summer, according to a
seasonal succession schema: ‘this was the course of the most important events
occurring in the Greek world in this winter. At the beginning of the summer …
the eighth year began’ (9.1).26
However, identifying that chronological order as a principle of arrangement
does not mean to claim that that is the only governing principle. For, if we
consider the several temporal expressions found within the introductory sen-
tences of the ho, we cannot draw a clear picture of the temporal setting of
the whole narrative, nor elucidate how the Oxyrhynchus historian selected
and arranged his material at the beginning and at the end of the narrative
of each year. Furthermore, most of these temporal expressions give evidence
that the historian intended to point synchronisms between events that hap-
pened in different places; in so doing he leads us to jump from one context to
another:

a) ὑπὸ δὲ τοὺ[ς αὐτοὺς χρόνο]υς (6.1)27

b) μετὰ ταῦτα (6.2)
c) κατὰ τοῦτον τ[ὸν] χρόνον (8.1)

26 Cf. Schepens (1993): 195–202 and (2001 a): 529–565.

27 Cf. Thuc. 1.100.3; 2.95.1; 3.52.1; 4.2.1; 5.12; 7.21.1; 8.99.1; 8.20.1.
22 chapter 2

d) κατὰ δὲ τὸν αὐ]τὸν χρόνον (9.2)28

e) τούτου τοῦ θέρους (16.1)29
f) κατὰ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον (19.2)
g) μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα (21.3)
h) μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα (22.1)

It is striking that each of these formulas30 is a sort of short transitional clause

between two different contexts: the narrative jumps abruptly from Demaene-
tus’ sea journey to Athens (b), from the Spartan harmost at Aegina to Demaene-
tus at Thoricus (c), from the Spartan perspective (the navarch Pollis) to the
Athenian one (Caunus) (d), from the Rhodian revolt to the events that hap-
pened in mainland Greece (e), from Conon to his mercenaries (f), from Agesi-
laus’ camp to the Mysians (g), and from Gordium to Paphlagonia (h).
Moreover, it is interesting to notice that the so-called ‘Demaenetus affair’31
and Conon’s operations in Asia Minor are defined as τὰ μ]ὲν οὖν ἁδρότατα τῶν
| [κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα τῷ χειμῶν]ι τούτῳ συμβάντων / ‘this was the course of the
most important events occurring in the Greek world in this winter’ (9.1). In
fact, it seems that the concept of Hellas is now extended to any field of Greek
action, to any deed performed by Greek people: it has become a sort of eth-
nical concept applied to space. Probably this peculiar view of Greek history
is in accordance with the new shape of fourth-century Hellenica, which—as
maintained above—opened to broad contexts connected with Greek political
action. This ethnical concept applied to space may well explain why the Hel-
lenica embraced numerous historical scenarios.
If the ho’s annalistic framework is not perspicuous, the narrative shape is
clearly traceable. The narration unfolds through two typologies of episodes:
narrative and analytical. The narrative episodes are brief and characterised
by a fast writing style; the analytical ones contain a quite extensive and slow
presentation of events, and are arranged in a digressive form. Digressions,
which combine background analysis and événementiel history, are intended to
play an important role in the narrative: they aim to produce suspense, and to

28 Cf. Thuc. 3.7.1; 3.18.1; 4.7.1; 4.78.1; 4.46.1; 5.115.1; 6.4.1; 6.61.3; 8.40.1.
29 Cf. Thuc. 2.79.1; 4.42.1.
30 We cannot discuss the first example (a), because it is at the very beginning of the London
papyrus (part a).
31 The Athenian Demaenetus was sent in aid of Conon; it is unclear if he was authorised by
the Athenian council or not. Because Athens’ relations with Sparta were regulated by a
peace agreement occurred at the end of the Peloponnesian war, the affair could prejudice
those relations.
the work and the reader 23

modify the rhythm of the narrative by the frequent interruptions they cause.
This particular narrative arrangement seems, moreover, to recall Thucydides’
narrative style, which the Oxyrhynchus historian develops further by man-
aging shorter episodes than those found in his model.32 Besides, I suggest
that the Oxyrhynchus historian has combined together both Thucydides’ and
Herodotus’ methods of composition, as we can deduce from a closer examina-
tion of the ho’s narrative structure.
The narrative episodes of the ho are arranged as follows:

Demaenetus affair, chh. 6–8

Conon’s defence of Caunus from a Spartan attack, ch. 9.1
Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign, chh. 9.2–14
Conon: Rhodian revolt, ch. 15
the Corinthian war, chh. 16–18
Conon: Caunian revolt, chh. 19–20
Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign, Mysian revolt, chh. 21–22

The narration clearly jumps from one context to another. The systematic inter-
ruption of the episodes produces suspense, because it delays the outcomes of
each of them. Not only are these episodes repeatedly interrupted, but they also
appear to be closely interrelated: in fact, the author usually recalls letimotivs
of preceding episodes or anticipates letimotivs of following ones. For instance,
the outbreak of the Corinthian war (16–18) is anticipated by a discussion on
the causes of Greek hostility towards Sparta (7.2–5), and at chapter 17.1 the
narrator discusses Theban inner politics which he has already dealt with at 7.2–
5.
Besides interruptions occurring between one episode and another, the nar-
rative is also often interrupted inside the episodes themselves. The Demaene-
tus affair (chh. 6–8), for example, gives occasion to digress and to speak of
Greeks’ ill-disposition towards Sparta33 as the main cause of the outbreak of
the Corinthian war (7.2–5); a further digression, on the Decelean war, has been
inserted into that account in ring composition style (7.4).34 As we can see, the
historian’s treatment of the Greek opposition to Sparta comes round in a circu-
lar movement, assisted by repetition of ideas or even of phrasing:

32 Behrwald (2005): 15–20, esp. 16. Cf. Bloch (1973): 303–316.

33 It echoes Thucydides 2.8 on Greek ill will towards Athens in 431.
34 Moreover, a piece of Decelean history has been also put in digressive form (19.2) into the
narration of Conon’s Asiatic operations (19–20).
24 chapter 2

7.2 Starting point: ‘And yet some say that the money from him [Pharna-
bazus] was the cause of concerted action by these people [Athenians]
and some of the Boeotians and some in the other cities previously men-
tioned (ἐ[̣ ν τ]α̣[ῖς ἄλλαις πόλεσι τ]αῖς προειρημένα[ις]).’

Discussion of the true cause of the outbreak of the Corinthian war, that
is to say, the long-time hostility to Sparta by Boeotians, Argives, Athe-
nians and Corinthians: ‘but they did not know that all had long been
ill-disposed (δυσμενῶς ἔχειν) towards the Spartans, looking out for a way
that they might make the cities adopt a war policy. For the Argives and
the Boeotians hated (ἐμίσουν γὰρ) the Spartans […].’

7.4 Excursus on Timolaus of Corinth, who, though now hostile to the

Spartans, during the period of the Decelean war supported them: ‘For
having obtained a force of five ships he ravaged some of the islands in
support of the Athenians. And having sailed to Amphipolis with two
triremes and manned from there another four in addition, he defeated
Simichus, the Athenian general, in a sea-fight, as I have said earlier, and
he captured five enemy triremes and thirty vessels which they had sent.
Afterwards with … triremes he sailed to Thasos and caused it to revolt
from the Athenians.’

7.5 Ending point: ‘So it was for these reasons much more than on account
of Pharnabazus and the gold that those in the previously mentioned
cities (ἐν ταῖς πόλεσι ταῖς προει|ρημέναις) had been incited to hate (ἐπηρ-
μένοι μισεῖν ἦ̣ [σ]α̣ν̣) the Spartans.’

This writing style is found especially in the first twenty-three chapters of Thu-
cydides’ work,35 but it is characteristic of Herodotus’ narrative, and, as is well
known, in its essence it consists of certain repetitions occurring at the begin-
ning and at the end of a narrative section; moreover, such structural corres-
pondences, which in Herodotus and in other authors are much more complex
than here, are regularly found within sections of narrative framed in ring com-
position structures.36

35 Adcock (1963): 91 f.
36 This method of writing is familiar to Greek authors from the archaic period onwards and is
very common in fifth-century tragedy. Cf. Fraenkel (1950): 119–120 and (1964): 329–351. On
the Roman side, we can notice that Tacitus in his Annals arranged freely historical material
the work and the reader 25

A good sample of elaborate ring composition style can be found in the ho’s
account of the Corinthian war. In fact, the narration of the conflict between
Boeotians and Phocians [a] (chh. 16–18, 16.1) allows the narrator to elucidate the
causes of the war (that is to say, the anti-Spartan activity of the Theban group
led by Androcleidas); so he goes back some years before, to the time of the con-
flict between the two main Theban parties, led respectively by Androcleidas
and Leontiades [b] (16.1), when Boeotia had a peculiar institutional system,
here described [b1] (excursus, 16.2–4). Later the narrator comes back again to
the conflict between the groups of Androcleidas and Leontiades, and explains
that at that time the party of Androcleidas was dominant among the Thebans
and in the council of the Boeotians [b] (17.1–2). After this, he goes back to the
period of the Decelean war, when Thebes was under the control of Leontiades’
group, and enjoyed a period of economic growth [c] (excursus, 17.3–5). Then he
again returns to the causes of the conflict between Boeotians and Phocians, that
is the political activity of Androcleidas’ group [b] (18.1–5); he therefore includes
here a further excursus on the aitiai of hostility between Locrians and Phocians
[b1], coming back again to Androcleidas’ activity [b] (18.3). Finally, the narra-
tive ends with a reference to Boeotians and Phocians, as at the starting point
[a] (18.5):

[a] 16.1 ‘This summer the Boeotians and the Phocians went to war.’

[b] 16.1 ‘Those chiefly responsible for the bad relations between them
were some people in Thebes. Not many years previously there had been
political conflict in Boeotia (εἰς στασιασμὸν οἱ Βοιωτοὶ | προελθόντες).’

[b1] 16.2–4 Description of the Boeotian constitution and its institutional

organisms.

[b] 17.1–2 ‘In Thebes the best and most notable of the citizens, as I have
already said, were in dispute with each other (στασιάζοντες πρὸς ἀλλή-
λους). […] At that time and even a little earlier the party of Ismenias and
Androcleidas was dominant among the Thebans (ἐδύναντο δὲ τ[ότε μὲν
καὶ ἔτι | μικ]ρῷ πρότερον οἱ πε[ρ]ὶ τὸ̣ν Ἰσμη[νίαν καὶ τὸ]ν | [Ἀνδ]ροκλείδ⟨α⟩ν)
[…].’

within an annalistic framework and also used ring composition narrative schemas. See
Woodman (1972): 150–158, Ginsburg (1981), Pelling (2010): 364–384. Cf. Rengakos (2004):
73–99.
26 chapter 2

‘[…] Previously the party of Astias and Leontiades had control in the
city for some length of time.’

[c] 17.3–5 ‘When the Spartans were at Decelea during the war against
the Athenians, and gathered their allies there en masse, this party [the
group led by Leontiades] was more dominant then the other, partly
because the Spartans were nearby, partly because the city was profiting
considerably on their account.’
Description of Theban prosperity at the time of the Decelean war, and
Athens’ economical difficulties due to Spartan damaging attacks.

[b]18.1–2‘The party of Androcleidas and Ismenias (οἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Ἀ[ν]|δρο-

κλείδαν κα[ὶ τὸν Ἰσμηνίαν) […].’
‘This was the trick they used to lead them into war: they persuaded
certain men among the Phocians to launch an attack on the territory of
the western Locrians.’

[b1] 18.3 ‘These people have a disputed area near Mount Parnassus, over
which they had previously fought, which both Phocians and Locrians
often encroached on for grazing. Whichever side it was that noticed the
other side doing this, collected together a large force and made a sheep
raid. Many such incidents had arisen previously from both sides, but the
sides were reconciled to each other on those occasions for the most part
through arbitration and discussion;

[b] 18.3 but now on this particular occasion the Locrians seized in return
an equivalent number of sheep for the ones they had lost, and straight-
away the Phocians, urged on by those men whom the party of Androclei-
das and Ismenias had put up to it, invaded Locris under arms.’

[a] 18. 5 ‘Having done that much damage to the Phocians, the Boeotians
returned to their own country.’

The narration unfolds through a ring composition structure, very close to the
Herodotean model; it also shows a well-balanced and symmetric disposition
of the material, according to a schema a-b-b1-b-c-b-b1-b-a. The narrative goes
back and forward, from one scenario to another, breaking repeatedly the log-
ical and chronological order of events. It is interesting that the chiastic rep-
etition of phrasing contributes to develop a very clear narrative framework
which stresses the chief idea that the causes of the outbreak of the Corin-
the work and the reader 27

thian war are to be found in the anti-Spartan political activism of Androcleidas’

group.37

2.3 The Historian’s Evaluation and Its Impact on the Readers

Now we need to investigate and explain why the Oxyrhynchus historian used
such a narrative construction unfolding through excursuses and narrative epi-
sodes. As suggestes above, in terms of readers’ expectations this way of writing
κατὰ μέρος38 delays systematically the outcomes of events and clearly produces
suspense, giving rhythm to the narrative. Eventually, the reader would expect
the narration of the battle of Cnidus, but the story of Conon’s activity is instead
continuously interrupted and delayed by the narration of Agesilaus’ Asiatic
campaign and, on one occasion, by the account of the Corinthian war.39
However, I wonder whether the narrator aims chiefly to guide his reader
through this peculiar textual structure: he gives his opinion on which accounts,
explanations, or causes (αἰτίαι) of events, are trustworthy in comparison with
others.40 In other words, it would not be left up to the reader to decide which
versions of a story should be trusted. It seems, in fact, that most of the (seem-
ingly) inorganic or non-integrated narrative sections help to enhance the un-
derstanding of what the narrator has already maintained before, or/and of
what he maintains in the course of the narration. A good instance is given
by the account of the Corinthian war (chh. 16–18). Here, the narrator aims to
demonstrate that hostilities against Sparta were caused by the activism of an
anti-Spartan group at Thebes. This is stressed by the two main rings of the com-
position ([b]), which deal with episodes concerning this group:

37 A further example of ring composition style is shown by McKechnie-Kern (1988): 172, and
it refers to Conon’s activities; see below, chapter 3.3.
38 Cf. Diod. 5.1, 16.1. Bloch (1973): 310–312.
39 Cf. Behrwald (2005): 13–15. However, we do not know when and if the battle of Cnidus was
dealt with by the Oxyrhynchus historian.
40 On narrative delay as an interpretative technique see Pelling (2000): 82–94, esp. 89;
Rood (1998): 109–130. Broadly speaking the shape of any literary product—historical
works included—consists of a significant component of authorial manipulation, which is
responsible for narrative structure and contents, and can also tell us much about meanings
that are sub-textual or, at any rate, not transparent. As regards the so-called ‘literary turn,’
as to say, the narratological approach in studying ancient historical works, see, among
others, Dewald (2005): 1–22 and (2009): 114–147. Cf. Clarke (1999): 22–34.
28 chapter 2

– εἰς στασιασμὸν οἱ Βοιωτοὶ | προελθόντες … there had been political conflict in

Boeotia … (16.1); στασιάζοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους … ‘the best and most notable of
the citizens were in dispute with each other …’ (17.1–2); ἐδύναντο δὲ τ[ότε μὲν
καὶ ἔτι | μικ]ρῷ πρότερον οἱ πε[ρ]ὶ τὸ̣ν Ἰσμη[νίαν καὶ τὸ]ν | [Ἀνδ]ροκλείδ⟨α⟩ν …
‘At that time and even a little earlier the party of Ismenias and Androcleidas
was dominant …’ (17.1–2);
– οἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Ἀ[ν]δροκλείδαν κα[ὶ τὸν Ἰσμη|νίαν … ‘the party of Androcleidas
and Ismenias …’ (18.3).

Other subjects are arranged in digressive form within this ring composition
framework, such as the Boeotian constitution, the story of Thebes during the
period of the Decelean war, the causes of hostility between Locrians and Pho-
cians; they are intended to enlarge the framework itself, giving relevance to
it.
Furthermore, the narrator’s reflection on the issue of historical causation,
found in the account of the Corinthian war, is foreshadowed in the text some
chapters before by a digression (ch. 7.2–5, examined above). Here the narrator
explicitly maintains that, though some say that the causes of the outbreak of
the Corinthian war are to be found in the gold of the Persian King, they ignore
the fact that many Greeks had long been ill-disposed towards Sparta. Thus,
the peculiar construction of both digressions, at 7.2–5 and 16–18, seems aimed
at leading the reader to agree with the narrator’s suggestions. Otherwise, it is
difficult to understand why the narrator included two extensive digressions on
the causes of the outbreak of the Corinthian war and then devoted so little
attention (just two paragraphs) to the narration of the war itself (18.4–5).
A further example of digressions reinforcing the narrator’s viewpoint is a
brief excursus on the issue of the payment of mercenaries during the Decelean
war (19.2–3). In this case, the narrator shows that what happened at Conon’s
times, as to say, the difficulty in finding money to pay troops, was a common
problem among people fighting for the King (ταῦτα μὲν οὖν οὕτως συμβαίνειν
εἴω̣ θ̣ε)̣ :

[a] ‘It happened that at this time the soldiers were owed many moths pay.
For they were badly paid by the generals—which is normal practice for
those fighting for the King,’

[b] ‘as in the Decelean war when they were allies of the Spartans, they
provided the money on an altogether mean and niggardly scale, and the
triremes of their allies would often have been disbanded had it not been
for the energy of Cyrus.’
the work and the reader 29

[a] ‘The responsibility for this lies with the King who, whenever it is
decided to make war, sends a small sum of money at the beginning
to those in charge and takes no account of the future. And those in
charge of affairs, not having the means to pay from their private fortunes,
sometimes permit the disbandment of their forces. This is what usually
happens.’

Our examination so far suggests that the Oxyrhynchus historian wrote ac-
cording to a synchronistic narrative style, though the material is arranged into
an annalistic framework, and that he followed and combined together both
Thucydides’ and Herodotus’ methods of composition. While in Herodotus’ nar-
rative there are various voices, or focalisations, aside from the controlling voice
of the narrator, who rarely suggests which stories are more or less trustwor-
thy,41 the narrator of the ho has a predominant role throughout the narrative;
especially his ‘digressive’ style gives evidence that he has undertaken to guide
readers in forming their opinions on what happened.

2.4 Conclusion

The peculiar narrative structure of the ho, which combines excursuses and
annalistic narrative, along with some cases of synchronism and ring compo-
sition style offered by other authors of Hellenica reinforce our idea that fourth-
century historians were inspired by the Herodotean narrative model; they gave
examples of narrative writing which adopted and combined together annalistic
and syncronistic narrative schemas.
If the turn to Herodotus’ method can give reason for writing in ring composi-
tion style, syncronisms are presumably related to an unprecedented historical
reading tending to connect and associate different areas of the Afro-Eurasian
oikoumene. Contemporary events, happening in different places, are narrated
by way of synchronisms between several different scenarios. The concept of
Hellas is now extended to any field of Greek action, to any deed performed
by Greek people: that is as a sort of ethnical concept applied to space. And,
consequently, the expression ‘ta hellenica’ may refer to happenings concern-
ing any parts of Greece. The interpolator/s of Xenophon’s Hellenica as well as
the Oxyrhynchus historian can be considered as pioneers of this new historical
tendency.

41 Dewald (2009): 114–147. Cf. Baragwanath (2008). Herodotus sometimes openly comments
on trustworthiness.
30 chapter 2

The more or less elaborated ring compositions found in the ho, while recall-
ing Herodotus’ method of writing, show something different, that is, a sim-
plified view of the issue concerning the causes of events. The shape of the
narrative is far from recalling the complexity of Herodotus’ reading of events,
according to which a plurality of voices and explanations are to be expected;
the narrator’s voice instead prevails on the others, instructs readers, and gives
explanations on why things happened in a given manner.42

42 See ch. 8.1.

 chapter 3

Spartan Motivations: the ho and Xenophon

This chapter presents a broad discussion of the reasons why, according to the
author of the ho, several Greek cities of the mainland were led to oppose
Sparta, as well as Spartan motivations for undertaking a military enterprise
in Asia Minor near the end of the fifth century. The analysis is developed
through a cross-comparison of the ho’s narrative and the parallel account
given by Xenophon’s Hellenica on Agesilaus’ military manoeuvres in Asia in
395bc. One of the main concerns in our discussion regards the issue of whether
there are clues that suggest the idea that the Oxyrhynchus historian resorted
to Persian materials and informants as sources, along with a possible use of
the Hellenica of Xenophon. Furthermore, it is worth investigating whether the
ho’s narrative can be seen as a sort of historiographical reply to Xenophon’s
Hellenica.

3.1 Greek Hostility and Sparta’s Reasons

According to the ho the true cause of the outbreak of the Corinthian war was
the long-standing hostility of numerous Greek cities towards Sparta and her
foreign policy.1 The King’s gold and the resulting bribery of Greek poleis were
not responsible for the creation of ‘war-parties’ at Athens and elsewhere, for
they were already extant (7.2; 7.5). The narrator is clearly intent on establishing
accuracy and dispelling rumours and false beliefs: there is a Thucydideanism
here that recalls the causation issue (prophasis/aitia), discussed by Thucydides
in his programmatic methodological discussion of scientific inquiry (1.23.5–6).2
Bribery is not denied, though it is not considered the true cause of that war, but
something like a triggering event.
The narrative distances itself clearly from some people (καίτοι τινὲς λέγ[ου-
σιν) who maintained3 that the money from Timocrates brought about a con-

1 In this chapter I refer to P. Oxy. v 842.

2 Fornis (2007): 187–218. See Pelling (2000): 87–89. We find also Thucydides’ near-obsession
with the mistaken Athenian tradition regarding the tyrannicides (1.20.2 and 6.53–59). See
McKechnie-Kern (1988): 135. Cf. Arist. ap 18.5.
3 Here I would give the verb λέγω a stronger reading, as ‘to maintain’ (i.e. a thesis), than merely
as ὡς λέγουσι (as they say) or λέγεται (it is said).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_004

32 chapter 3

certed action of the Boeotians and other Greeks (7.2). But who were these
‘some people’? Or, rather, might they have been writers? Possibly, yes. The
present tense of the verb (λέγουσιν) indicates something that was still said
in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s own day; this does not exclude, however, that
those rumours came from certain writings as well, such as Xenophon’s Hel-
lenica and also, for instance, the works of Deinon and Ctesias. Plutarch, who
in his Artaxerxes (20.3) shows that he knows the same version about the out-
break of the war as the one given by Xenophon,4 does not conceal elsewhere
in the Life that he is following Xenophon (20.4), in addition to Deinon and Cte-
sias (20.1). The ho might represent a sort of reply to Xenophon’s text where
we find the belief that Timocrates’ bribery was at the origin of an anti-Spartan
coalition, led by Thebes, Corinth and Argos (Hell. 3.5.1–2).5 This is a controver-
sial point and implies that the ho was written a little later than Xenophon’s
Hellenica. The claim is however plausible. Xenophon presumably wrote the
most extensive part of the Hellenica (from 2.3.10 to the end) after the Anaba-
sis, which is dated to the 360s.6 Though we do not know when the first part of
the Hellenica was written, books 1–2.3.9 were probably amongst the earliest of
Xenophon’s writings.7 Besides, we can assert confidentely that Xenophon’s Hel-
lenica was completed in the mid-350s.8 That the ho is only fixable within fairly
wide margins—after 387/386 and before 346 bc—is a conventional formula-
tion,9 and it is possible to say more on the issue. The constitution of Boeotia, as
described in the ho (16.2–4), is a kind of federal state that was presumably in

4 Xenophon, followed by Plutarch, is probably mistaken in making the Persian action directly
consequent upon Agesilaus’ victory at Sardis: Tithraustes sent Timocrates with the money to
bribe anti-Spartan politicians because he feared Agesilaus’ military strengthening after the
battle of Sardis (Hell. 3.5.1). So Tuplin (1993): 60. According to Xenophon, the Athenians did
not take the money, though they appeared already disposed to go to war (Hell. 3.5.2). For a
quick view of contemporary and later authors who relied upon Xenophon’s Hellenica and the
ho in relation to the theme of the outbreak of this war see Valente (2014): 114–135. On the ho’s
account of the Corinthian war see Buckler (2004): 397–411, Rung (2004): 413–426, Schepens
(2012): 213–241.
5 Contra McKechnie-Kern (1988): 135. According to Valente (2014): 10–12, Xenophon is replying
here to the ho, and, polemising with it, expresses a pro-Spartan view in support of Agesilaus
and Sparta; see also 103–109, 112, 113–114, 119 ff.
6 Cawkwell (2004): 47–48; see lastly Pelling (2013 a): 40, note 1.
7 Cawkwell (1979): 28–33. Differently, Gray (1991): 201–228 argues that the first part is a bridging
summary of the last years of the Peloponnesian war that was composed at the same time as
the rest of the Hellenica.
8 Tuplin (2007): 166.
9 Cf. Bruce (1967): 4.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 33

force before the dissolution of Boeotian unity under the terms of the peace of
Antalcidas (387/386bc).10 In fact, in introducing his excursus on the constitu-
tion of Boeotia by the words εἶχεν δὲ τὰ πράγματα τότε κα[τὰ τὴ]ν Βοιωτίαν οὕτως
(16.2) the Oxyrhynchus historian seems to indicate that he was writing after
the dissolution of that constitution, which happened in 387/386 bc.11 Some
time later, in 378bc, the constitution was reformed on ‘democratic’ lines, and
according to Cartledge a date for the composition of the ho might be indeed
something between 378 and 346 bc. The terminus ad quem is given, again, by
internal evidence. A passage of the ho relating to a disputed territory between
Phocis and Locris (‘these people have a disputed area near Mount Parnassus,’
18.3, ll. 484–485) suggests that its author considers events that occurred along
the borders between Phocians and Locrians (cattle driving, raids; ll. 486–489)
as close to the time of his writing (and so uses ‘have’); this is no longer the case
after 346, that is, the end of the third Sacred war (356–346), and therefore the
historian probably wrote before that war.12 Besides, as we shall see (chh. 5 and
6), thematic evidence too, along with further internal evidence (below, in this
chapter), enforces our assumption that the Oxyrhynchus historian replies to
Xenophon’s narrative.
Turning to the Corinthian war, while people’s motivations within the anti-
Spartan coalition (Boeotians, Argives, Corinthians and Athenians) are empha-
sised in the ho throughout the narrative of the prelude to that war (7.2–5), weak
clues can be found about Sparta’s own reasons. The Spartans are introduced to
the reader through the common ill feeling of some Greeks (Argives and Boeo-
tians, in particular), who blamed them for supporting pro-Spartan groups in
Boeotia and in Argos (7.2, ll. 41–43). Furthermore, the Spartans’ response to
the Boeotian menace of an attack on Phocis—they actively promoted a diplo-
matic solution—seems to be evidence of Sparta’s impartiality as well as of a
certain disinterest for the area; this may indicate what the narrator believes
as true or what he wants his audience to believe. Moreover, the focalisation
through the Spartans’ thoughts and words (‘though they thought the story was

10 Xen. Hell. 5.1.33. It is possible that its origin dates back to 447 bc, when the region gained
its independence from Athens. Cf. Bruce (1967): 157. This idea would be supported by the
evidence coming from Boeotian coins, which for the period 447–386bc do not bear the
names of the Boeotian cities individually, except for Thebes. Cf. also Sordi (1968): 66–75.
11 Gigante (1949): 65.
12 Cartledge (2000): 397–415, 401. For Walker (1908): 361 the historian wrote between 356 and
346 bc. Cf. Bruce (1967): 4–5. For other suggestions see Mazzarino (1965): 401, Accame
(1978): 176–177, Bianchetti (1992): 10–12 and (2001): 33–46, Magnelli (2006): 47–48, Lérida
Lafarga (2007): 263, Valente (2014): 9.
34 chapter 3

unworthy of belief,13 they sent envoys and told the Boeotians not to make war
on the Phocians, but if they thought that they were wronged in any way, they
ordered them to obtain justice from them in a meeting of their allies,’ 18.4,
ll. 505–509) shows Sparta’s own evaluation of the report (i.e., they considered it
to be untrustworthy), which to some extent anticipates the narrator’s sugges-
tion that the whole deceitful business had been set up by the Theban group led
by Androcleidas and Ismenias (18.4, ll. 509–513). Thus, if the Boeotians’ alleged
reasons were trustworthy, then the Corinthian war would be caused by Spartan
activism (7.2, ll. 41–43). Otherwise, if the Spartan reading of events (as well as
the narrator’s suggestion!) prevailed, the war would originate from a Theban
conspiracy.14

3.2 Sparta’s Asiatic Campaign and Its Analysis

To thoroughly explore Spartan motivations for action in the ho we need to

turn to the most extensive part of the work pertaining to Sparta, that is, the
account of the Asiatic campaign led by the Spartan king Agesilaus. Immedi-
ately, some questions appear inevitable. What were Sparta’s motivations for
that campaign, which, along with the accounts of the Corinthian war and
Conon’s military operations, is one of the most extensive episodes of the ho?
And, also, is the story really a mere variation and re-adaptation of Xenophon’s
narrative?15 Or rather does the Oxyrhynchus historian answer and dialogue
with Xenophon’s text, adding further and at times contrasting evidence? Might
this perhaps depend on his informants and Persian materials?
There are many controversial aspects related to Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign,
and these regard mainly presumed similarities and differences in the historical
explanations given by Xenophon16 and by the Oxyrhynchus historian (and
consequently by Diodorus—so far considered as depending on the ho through
the mediation of Ephorus).17

13 The Phocians had ravaged an area of the Locrian territory (18.3–4).

14 For historical reconstructions of the relationship between Sparta, Thebes and Boeotia on
the eve of the Corinthian war see McKay (1953): 6–7, Hamilton (1972): 21–37, Lehmann
(1978): 73–93, Lendon (1989): 300–313, Bakhuizen (1994): 307–330; lastly Valente (2014).
15 Bleckmann (2006): 12–21.
16 Lastly Bruce (1967): 150–156. Cf. Bleckmann (2006): 12–21.
17 Though Diodorus today has been (partially) rehabilitated as a historian. See ch. 4.1 for
a close comparison between the ho and Diodorus, as regards the Asiatic campaign of
Agesilaus.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 35

In this section I shall focus on a few narrative elements relating to the spring
and autumn/winter operations of 395 bc (chh. 11–12 and 21–22),18 because on
the one hand they seem to suggest that the Oxyrhynchus historian was inter-
ested in the Persians’ military manoeuvres and was adequately informed about
them and about Asia Minor’s topography,19 and on the other hand they allow us
to identify and explore Agesilaus’ personal motivations for his military choices
(the exploration of Agesilaus’ motives continues, moreover, throughout the fol-
lowing sections).
The impression given by the (only partially) preserved lines referring to
the route taken by Agesilaus from Ephesus to Sardis is that the Oxyrhynchus
historian provides information that we do not find elsewhere in the sources
on the Spartan campaign:20 Agesilaus probably followed a path along (and
parallel to) the Cayster river, across the Tmolus (11, ll. 123–133).21 Needless to
say, the question of Agesilaus’ route might be considered as a sort of unsolvable
puzzle for scholars, whose conjectures, moreover, rely excessively on presumed
correspondence between Diodorus (14.80) and the Oxyrhynchus historian. It
appears we obtain a different piece of information from Diodorus’ text, where
it is stated that Agesilaus ‘led forth his army into the plain of Cayster and
the country around Sipylus’ (80.1); this leads us to think that, for Diodorus,
Agesilaus took the so-called Karabel route.22 Besides, if one compares the ho’s
textual evidence (11, ll. 123–133) with that of Xenophon,23 it seems that the

18 Agesilaus’ intervention in Asia is part of the Spartan campaign conducted from 400 to
395 bc.
19 See also 7.3.
20 Xen. Hell. 3.4.16–29; 4.1; Ages. 1.25–38; Diod. 14.79–80; Plut. Ages. 6–15; Trog. Prol. 6; Iust.
6.2; Paus. 3.9.3–7; Polyaen. Strat. 2.1.8–9; 7.16; Nep. Ages. 2.4–6; Frontin. Strat. 1.8.12.
21 In ancient times there were various routes from Ephesus to Sardis across the Tmolus, and
Kaupert (1924–1931): 275–280 identified four of these at least: the westernmost part of the
Tmolus was the Karabel pass; a second pass crossed the Tmolus above Bayindir; a third
route proceeded from Ödemiş crossing the Tmolus; the most easterly route, also going
through Ödemiş, went past Hypaepa and Gölcük.
22 See note above.
23 Xenophon reports that Agesilaus announced his intention to march to Sardis across τὴν
συντομωτάτην ἐπὶ τὰ κράτιστα τῆς χώρας (Xen. Hell. 3.4.20). This statement initially led
scholars to suppose that the ‘shortest’ route to Sardis was the Hypaepa-Tmolus route; con-
versely, for the ho, followed by Diodorus, Agesilaus travelled across the ‘ordinary’ or ‘nor-
mal’ route, supposedly the one along the Karabel pass, Mount Sipylus and Nymphaeum;
so Dugas (1910): 62ff. In reality, though, it is not fully clear what was regarded as the ‘ordi-
nary’ route. Xenophon maintains that Agesilaus marched through the countryside for
three days before encountering the enemy cavalry (Xen. Hell. 3.4.22), and we know from
36 chapter 3

Oxyrhynchus historian is giving his own distinctive version of Agesilaus’ march,

demonstrating his or his sources’ thorough knowledge of the topography of
Asia.
It has been maintained that on the subject of Agesilaus’ manoeuvres in Asia
Minor the Oxyrhynchus historian used a sort of camp-journal, written by a
Greek officer,24 or that, being an Athenian writer of an Atthis, he received infor-
mation from Conon’s group in Asia.25 But, if this were so, it would not be easy
to attribute to such a source the account, for example, of the execution of Tissa-
phernes, related in the thirteenth chapter of the ho (13.1). On the contrary, news
of this event might have spread widely in Asia Minor by word of mouth, for it is
that sort of news—about a notable figure—which arouses public interest the
most; therefore, it may have been conveyed through Persian informants.26 The
content of this story is partially found in Diodorus (14.80. 6–8) and Polyaenus
(7.16.1).27 They report that the killing of Tissaphernes was due to the revenge
of Artaxerxes’ mother, Parysatis, who wanted the satrap to pay a high price
for Cyrus’ death. Going along with Meyer’s supplement, we might, moreover,
assume that the chapter in question points to Parysatis by name (Παρ[ύσατις,
13, l. 244).28 Wherever the Oxyrhynchus historian got his information, judging
by the length and the intelligible fragments on the tale (13.1–2), he shows he
obtained as much detail as was possible, and, consequently, that he was inter-

Herodotus that the Hypaepa-Tmolus route between Ephesus and Sardis, of five hundred
and forty stades and taken by the Ionians in 498 (Hdt. 5.100), was a three days’ journey
(Hdt. 5.54). Thus the ‘ordinary’ route might have been the Hypaepa-Tmolus route (Cf. Xen.
Hell. 3.2.11). Lastly, scholars have supposed that both the ho (> Diodorus) and Xenophon
refer to the same route, the Karabel, which would be shorter than the route across Smyrna
(Hypaepa-Tmolus route). So Nellen (1972): 49, Anderson (1975): 27–53, Botha (1988): 71–80,
Bleckmann (2006): 12–21. On the Battle of Sardis and on the value of the ho’s testimony,
see also Gray (1979): 183–200, Cartledge (1987): 215–217, De Voto (1988): 41–53, Wylie (1992):
118–130.
24 Dugas (1910): 92. There are similar suggestions about Xenophon’s Anabasis made by
Cawkwell (1972): 9–48 and (2004): 47–67.
25 Pintaudi (2003): 37.
26 Cf. Bruce (1967): 11.
27 Polyaenus tells a story in which Ariaeus, on instructions received by letter, summoned
Tissaphernes to Colossae and, with the help of bath attendants, arrested him while he was
bathing. Then he handed him over to Tithraustes, who took him in a wagon to Celaenae;
there he beheaded him and sent his head to the King. Artaxerxes sent the head to his
mother Parysatis, who now could be sure that Tissaphernes had paid the penalty for Cyrus’
death (7.16.1). The same episode is found in summarised form in Diodorus 14.80.6–8.
28 Meyer (1909): 179.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 37

ested in Persian events. Though Ctesias probably did not report this event,29
nevertheless he knew that Tissaphernes had calumniated30 (or informed on)31
Cyrus before Artaxerxes, and for this reason Cyrus took refuge in Parysatis’
abode; after that, he organised and led the so-called expedition of the Ten Thou-
sand against his brother.32 Ctesias might have heard this story (as well as others)
from the mouth of Parysatis herself.33 In other words, probably something like
a vulgate of the whole episode might have circulated at that time.
The Oxyrhynchus historian shares with Ctesias the preference for writing
Persian names in accordance with their original etymology (and not, as He-
rodotus usually does, in their Graecised or popular form);34 this is shown by
the name of ‘Spithradates’ in its correct noun form (in reference to a Persian
man who guided Agesilaus into Paphlagonia), which is attested twice in the
ho (21.3–4, ll. 692, 693) together with its Graecised form, ‘Spithridates’ (21.4,
l. 701. 22.1, l. 722).35 Therefore, I would stress the idea that the author of the ho
also had access to memoirs, reports, stories or other kinds of written sources,
especially some coming from the Persian camp.36
It is undeniable that the Oxyrhynchus historian devotes considerable atten-
tion to Persian events, especially if compared with Xenophon. Even if he is play-
ing with Xenophon’s narrative (this is what I suggest), he shows an unprece-
dented interest in Persian matters. In the account of the battle of Sardis,37 for
instance, according to the ho, the Persians pursued Agesilaus’ troops cease-
lessly along their route (11.3) before the battle took place; on the contrary,
Xenophon omits this, reporting the arrival of the Persian cavalry only on the
fourth day of Agesilaus’ march (Hell. 3.4.21–22). More generally, Xenophon’s
narrative gives the impression that only upon the arrival of Persian cavalry did

29 His work ends with the year 398/397bc. (Diod. 14.46.6).

30 Orsi-Manfredini (1987): xxxv–xxxix. Cf. Xen. An. 1.1.3.
31 Lenfant (2004): 276.
32 Ctesias FGrHist 688, f 16 = Phot. Bibl. 72 p. 43 b 3–44 a 19, 53 (cf. f 16 Lenfant). Cf. Lane Fox
(2004): 12–20.
33 See ch. 5.3.
34 Schmitt (1979): 119–133.
35 Ctesias FGrHist 688, f 15 a = Phot. Bibl. 72 p. 41 b 38–43 b 2, 53 (cf. f 15 Lenfant). Xen. Hell.
3.4.10. Cf. Xen. Hell. 3.4.10 (ed. Hatzfeld). Stonecipher (1918): 62.
36 Cf. Westlake (1987): 241–254.
37 The battle of Sardis, fought between the armies of Agesilaus and Tissaphernes in the valley
of the Hermus (Paus. 3.9.6; cf. Diod. 14.80), or on the banks of the Pactolus (Xen. Hell.
3.4.22), took place in the spring of 395 bc. The differences between Diodorus (14.80.1–4)
and Xenophon (Hell. 3.4.20–25 and Ages. 1.28–33) are so striking that it has even been
doubted whether they describe the same battle. Cawkwell (1968): 288–290.
38 chapter 3

Agesilaus face his enemy, while the Oxyrhynchus historian gives us to under-
stand that the decisive encounter (in his portrayal, not quite decisive at all!)
took place after previous skirmishes. It does look as if the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian, here, puts the whole event in its correct perspective, while Xenophon
(as well as Diodorus) considers the battle a great happening.38 I leave aside
the question whether this might be explained by Xenophon’s pro-Agesilaus
bias, and whether for this reason he might also have intentionally omitted the
episode of Xenocles’ ambush (related by the ho), a surprise attack delivered by
Agesilaus’ hoplites and light-armed troops, before the battle of Sardis (11.4).39
Xenophon might simply have been less interested than the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian in Persian issues.
Whatever Xenophon’s motives were, some narrative features of the ho’s
account of the battle of Sardis show clearly the narrator’s interest in Persian
operations and in giving a more balanced view of the forces that were deployed.
The focus on Agesilaus’ expectations seems to put the emphasis on the menace
represented by Tissaphernes and his troops in the campaign, based primarily
on their number and strength, and we learn that when Agesilaus was being
pursued by Tissaphernes’ army ‘he thought it difficult to resist the enemy
attacking in battle array, since they were more numerous than the Greeks …’
(11.3, ll. 133–136). Moreover, even though the Spartans won the battle, they
nevertheless appear to have difficulty handling the aftermath. In fact, they
‘chased the enemy but not for very long, for they could not catch them because
the majority were cavalry and troops without armour’ (11.6, ll. 193–196).
Furthermore, the ambush led by Xenocles just before the battle of Sardis,
as well as the aftermath of the battle itself, is narrated through a plurality
of focalisations, which, in swift succession, alternate the Spartan perspective
with that of the barbaroi (11.4–12.4). The narrative unfolds through verbs of
perception, or by referring to knowledge coming from inquiry (like πυνθάνομαι,
‘I know, after having asked for information;’ cf. 12.1, l. 213), so as to indicate
what appeared, seemed to (or even was felt by,40 or known to) each side
at the same time. An illuminating example is the parallelism between the
Persian and Spartan response: ‘when the barbarians saw (εἶδον) the Greeks
charging at them, they fled all over the plain. Seeing (κατιδὼν) them terrified,

38 Xen. Hell. 3.4.22–24. Diod. 80.3.

39 This is, however, a delicate issue, for it might appear as connected with the traditional
view, according to which Xenophon had an apologetic aim in writing the Hellenica. Cf.
Tuplin (2004). According to some scholars, Xenophon has omitted the episode because
he was not present at that battle: Dugas (1910): 70–72; Valente (2014): 77.
40 12.1, l. 204: καταπλαγέντες [τοὺς] Ἕλληνας.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 39

Agesilaus sent the light-armed troops of his army and the cavalry to pursue
them’ (11.5, ll. 187–191).
The narrative of Agesilaus’ Mysian campaign (winter 395 bc, 21.1–3, ll. 648–
686)—omitted by both Xenophon and Diodorus—is moulded again by Greek
and Persian perceptions. Appearance, deception and misunderstanding lead
the reader through the chapters in question. Agesilaus’ decision to make terms
with the Mysians relies upon his own sight and thoughts: ‘when he came during
his advance to the middle of the Mysian Olympus as it is called, seeing (ὁρῶν)
that the way through was difficult and narrow and wanting (βου]λόμ[ενος])
a safe passage through it, he sent some people to the Mysians and made
terms with them and led his army through the region’ (21.2, ll. 655–660). But
something unpredictable happened to him, because the Mysians attacked the
Spartan rearguard. On the following day a deceitful thought led the Mysians,
too, to misinterpret what was about to happen (‘each of the Mysians thought—
οἰηθ[έντες—that Agesilaus was going away on account of the loss received on
the previous day, and they came out of their villages and began to pursue him
with the intention—ὡς ἐπιθησόμενοι—of attacking the rearguard in the same
way,’ 21.2, ll. 669–673), that is, an attack against them, an ambush previously
organised by Agesilaus (ll. 673–675). The narrator’s focus turns again to the
Mysians, through the perception of those of the rearguard: ‘the leaders and
front soldiers of the pursuing Mysians suddenly came into conflict with the
Greeks and were killed; and the main body, when they saw (κατιδόντες) their
vanguard in difficulties, fled to their villages’ (ll. 675–678).

3.3 Agesilaus’ Motivations and the Lasting Significance of the Spartan

Campaign in Asia

To continue exploring Agesilaus’ motives we need to turn our attention to a very

controversial topic, related to Agesilaus’ war in Asia and to Spartan strategy and
its policy goals. Many years ago, the question—a big question indeed!—was
raised why Sparta sent a force to Asia in 400 bc to engage in a crusade for the
liberation of the Asiatic Greek cities, and then kept her army there for several
years, during which, for long periods, she made little effort to secure her main
objective, or at least what she had declared was her main objective.41 Surely we
should emphasise, with Westlake, the emergence of disagreements in Sparta
between rival political groups led by influential individuals, and suggest that

41 Westlake (1986 a): 405–426.

40 chapter 3

this crusade on behalf of the Asiatic Greeks, in the end, conferred little credit
upon both the authorities at home and their top commanders in the Asiatic
field.
With regard to Agesilaus’ campaign, scholars have held different views: the
immediate aim of the campaign was to create a sort of buffer zone of rebel
satraps and tribes between the territory controlled by the Persian King and the
Greek cities of the seaboard;42 Agesilaus aimed to conquer Ionia;43 finally, he
wanted to prevent a Persian attack against Greece.44
Broadly speaking, the Spartan Asiatic campaign might be easier to under-
stand if it had aimed to block the Carian naval station. As Meyer observed in
1909,45 it was precisely from the red zone of the Carian area that Persian naval
operations were conducted against Greece, and since the beginning of their
campaign the Spartans appeared well aware of the necessity to invade that ter-
ritory (400 bc).46 That was a boundary zone, all the more so as there is evidence
of diplomatic talks in that area, just before Conon’s appointment. In 398 bc the
historian Ctesias, who was presumably at Salamis in Cyprus with Pharnabazus,
gave Conon the King’s letter for his appointment, and then he moved to his
own headquarters (Cnidus), to depart for Sparta, where he delivered a letter
containing a message from Susa on the failure of the King’s negotiations with
the Spartans.47
Agesilaus could easily have opened the road to Caunus and to the Rhodian
Chersonesus if he had foiled Conon’s commission and induced Miletus and

42 Seager (1977): 183–184.

43 Bommelaer (1981): 188–190.
44 Hamilton (1979): 184. Valente (2014): 104 maintains that the first two suggestions are more
plausible than the last one, even though not necessarily feasible.
45 Meyer (1909): 9.
46 In 399 the ephors ordered Thibron to invade Caria (Xen. Hell. 3.1.7); in 397 another
delegation of ephors gave Dercylidas the peremptory order to attack Caria (Xen. Hell.
3.2.12); at the same time the Spartan Pharax sailed away from Rhodes and blocked the
Persian fleet at Caunus, though just temporarily. All that was probably a consequence of
Conon’s operations at Caunus with a Persian fleet. See Valente (2014): 19.
47 Spartan envoys were in custody at the King’s court; they were probably judged at Rhodes
and later released. Ctesias FGrHist 688, f 30 = Phot. Bibl. 72 p. 44 b 20–42, 74–75 (cf. f 30
Lenfant): ὡς ἐτηρήθησαν οἱ παρὰ Λακεδαιμονίων ἄγγελοι πεμφθέντες πρὸς βασιλέα […] (74);
Κτησίου εἰς Κνίδον τὴν πατρίδα ἄφιξις καὶ εἰς Λακεδαίμονα· καὶ κρίσις πρὸς τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίων
ἀγγέλους ἐν Ῥόδωι, καὶ ἄφεσις (75). Cf. t 7 c (cf. t 7 c Lenfant). Lenfant (2004): xiii–
xv, xviii–xxii, 164, 285–286. The scholar is doubtful about the location (Rhodes), and
suggests correcting ἐν Ῥόδῳ with ἐν λόγῳ, following one part of the manuscript tradition
(p. xix).
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 41

Rhodes to join him. But, like his precursors,48 he avoided (deliberately?) going
to Caria.49 So while in the spring of 395 bc Spartan naval operations at Caunus
had results that were still uncertain and ineffective,50 Agesilaus gathered his
forces at Ephesus and marched into the Caystrian Plain, engaging the Persians
near Sardis, as we have just seen above.51
According to the Oxyrhynchus historian, whose statement seems partially
confirmed by Xenophon,52 eventually (the papyrus breaks off with this notice)
the aim of Agesilaus was to march towards Cappadocia. Later authors (Plutarch
and Nepos) emphasised the idea that a great campaign should have been
directed against the Great King in person.53 Probably they convey echoes of
a broad debate that developed soon after Agesilaus’ enterprise, given that
Isocrates in 380 bc, inviting the Greeks to fight against the Persians, maintains
that Agesilaus (with Cyrus’ army) quickly conquered all Asiatic territory as
far as the Halys, and in so doing Isocrates establishes a sort of parallelism

48 The relations between the ephors and the commanders in Asia had been deteriorating.
On his arrival, Thibron, after capturing Magnesia (Caria), withdrew to Ephesus (Ionia),
doubtless in accordance with the instructions of the ephors; however his decision shows
that in the open country his force, made predominantly of hoplites, could not be com-
pared to the cavalry of Tissaphernes (Diod. 14.36). So in the following campaign season
Thibron chose to operate in southern Aeolis, area controlled by Tissaphernes, on the
border of Pharnabazus’ satrapy (Diod. 14.36; Xen. Hell. 3.1.4–7). The accomplishments of
Thibron in Aeolis seemed unimpressive, and the ephors, presumably believing that Thi-
bron’s army, now strengthened by the addition of the Cyreans, would be able to resist
attacks by the cavalry of Tissaphernes, ordered him to reach Caria. As regards Dercyl-
idas, after he arrived at Ephesus he decided to initiate operations in the Troad rather
than in Caria: his choice was influenced by the indiscipline of his troops, which Thi-
bron had failed to curb, and by the extreme weakness of his cavalry (Xen. Hell. 3.2.6–
7).
49 When the Spartans learned that a Persian fleet was operating in Phoenicia they prepared
an expedition led by Agesilaus. He arrived at Ephesus, feinted towards Caria, but finally
campaigned in Phrygia, and wintered at Ephesus (autumn 397–winter 396/395). Xen. Hell.
3.4.1–15; Diod. 14.79.1–3.
50 Though the Spartan navarch Pollis blockaded Conon at Caunus, Pharnabazus and Arta-
phernes relieved him; moreover, at Rhodes the democrats expelled the Peloponnesian
fleet, and 90 Cilician and Phoenician triremes reinforced Conon’s fleet. P. Oxy. v 842, 9.2–3,
ll. 88–112. Diod. 14.79.4–8.
51 P. Oxy. v 842, 10–11.6, ll. 113–203. Xen. Hell. 3.4.16–20. Cf. March (1997): 257–269.
52 Xen. Hell. 4.1.41: ‘He [Agesilaus] was planning to march as far as possible into the interior,
with the idea of detaching from the King all the nations through which he should pass.’
53 Plut. Ages. 15.1; Pel. 30.3; Nep. Ages. 4.1–2.
42 chapter 3

between Agesilaus’ expedition and that led by Cyrus the younger.54 And it is
precisely this aspect that is emphasised most recurrently by ancient writers
in their readings of the Spartan campaign. For instance, in his analysis of the
causation issue, with particular reference to the outbreak of the Second Punic
war, Polybius gives some exempla coming from Greek history: he compares
Cyrus’ and Agesilaus’ campaigns, because they both are seen as the origin of
the war against Persia. It is worth noting that Polybius omits recalling the two
previous Persian wars!55
The hypothesis that Xenophon might have reused materials coming from
the drafting of the Anabasis for the composition of the third and fourth book
of the Hellenica56 today is out-dated, since it is closely related to the ‘old-
fashioned’ analytical approach in studying ancient works; despite that it sug-
gests the degree to which the atmosphere of the expedition of the Ten Thou-
sand comes back to life throughout the narrative of Sparta’s Asiatic campaign.
Leaving aside the controversial question of the character, aim and audience
of the Anabasis,57 we would remark that the reference to Cyrus’ experience
is found not only in those books of the Hellenica (3–4) that were alleged as
coming from the Anabasis, but also elsewhere in the text. That is, the expe-
rience of the Ten Thousand—which we can call here the ‘Cyrus-topic’—may
have influenced Xenophon’s historical reading as well as his writing, becom-
ing an important benchmark for comparison. So when Dercylidas was going

54 Cf. Lehmann (1972 a): 385–398. According to the scholar, Isocrates’ evaluation of the
campaign follows the ho’s narrative closely.
55 Polyb. 3.6: ‘The true causes and the origins of the war against Persia are easy enough for
anyone to recognise. The first of these was the retreat of the Greeks under Xenophon from
the upper satrapies, a march during which, though they traversed the whole Asia and were
constantly passing through hostile territory, none of the barbarians dared to stand in their
way. The second was the invasion of Asia carried out by the Spartan king Agesilaus, during
which he encountered no opposition worth mentioning in any of his campaigns, and was
only compelled to return without achieving his aims because of the outbreak of troubles
in Greece.’
56 Sordi (1951): 273–348.
57 Some scholars have approached the Anabasis as an apologia. Those who believe that
Xenophon was exiled from Athens because of his collaboration with Cyrus assume that
Xenophon wrote the Anabasis to justify his conduct before Athenian public opinion.
Others consider the Anabasis as a defence of his own conduct on the march, against
accusations made by the Spartan authorities and by the members of the expedition
itself. Other scholars interpret the work as a piece of political ‘propaganda,’ a vehicle for
Xenophon’s ideas about the policies that Greek states ought to pursue. Cf. Hirsch (1985):
2–38, Dillery (1995): 41–119, Rood (2004 b): 305–329. See, lastly, Flower (2012).
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 43

to face both Pharnabazus and Tissaphernes in Caria, the narrative focalisation

through Tissaphernes’ thoughts emphasises that he ‘could remember (καταλο-
γιζόμενος) how the Greek troops with Cyrus had fought against the Persians. He
imagined (νομίζων) that all Greeks were like them, and so was unwilling to join
battle’ (Hell. 3.2.18). Not only is the value of Cyrus’ army here recalled, but also
a close association of Agesilaus and Cyrus is hinted at in the speech of Jason of
Pherae (brought into the speech of Polydamas of Pharsalus), delivered in book
six: ‘I am sure you know that the reason why the King of Persia is the richest
man on earth is that he gets his revenue from a continent and not from islands.
Yet I think that it would be easier to subdue him than to subdue Greece. For
I know that in Persia everybody except for one man is educated to be a slave
rather than to stand up for himself, and I know to what extremities the King was
brought by comparatively small forces—the one that marched with Cyrus and
the one with Agesilaus’58 (Hell. 6.1.12). We can see that here we are quite far from
the world of Agesilaus’ campaign, and Jason is the expression of a completely
new typology of territorial settlement and hegemonic power; nevertheless he
portrays himself as heir to Agesilaus and Cyrus in a new crusade against Per-
sia.59
The Cyrus-topic seems to be well known to the Oxyrhynchus historian, too.60
True, he possibly knew and played with Xenophon’s narrative, but he might also
have shared with his contemporaries what had become almost a common topic
of debate. In the chapter on Conon’s decision to get money from Pharnabazus
and Tithraustes for the payment of his troops (19), the historian refers back to
the skillful leadership of Cyrus—which kept the fleet of the Spartan alliance
in commission during the Decelean war—before presenting his analysis of
the cause of the irregular payment of mercenaries. That is, that phenomenon
originated at the heart of the Persian system, since enterprises began with
a small advance of money that was not systematically followed up with the
necessary support of additional funding. And, as has been correctly observed,
the remark about Cyrus and the fleet during the Peloponnesian war acts as a
pivotal element, giving the narrative in the whole chapter a carefully balanced
character in ring-composition style:61

58 Transl. by R. Warner.
59 See ch. 7.1.
60 According to Westlake (1987): 241–254, the ho deals with Cyrus’ expedition, and that
account was later used by Diodorus. Cf. Dillery (1995): 59, Stylianou (1998): 463–471. I
discuss the issue at ch. 4.1.
61 McKechnie-Kern (1988): 172.
44 chapter 3

[a] Spartan officer takes up command

[b] Conon journeys to Tithraustes
[c] the pay due Conon’s men
[d] generalisation: the usual Persian practice
[e] how Cyrus saved the fleet
[d] explanation: the King is personally responsible
[c] Tithraustes pays out money
[b] Tithraustes journeys to the King
[a] Persian officers take up command

While Cyrus’ prothumia is clearly associated with that of Conon (19.2, l. 544
and 20.6, l. 640)62 and expressed in terms of military and strategic skills, the
character sketch of Cyrus, presumably contained in the partially preserved
chapter 14 on the aftermath of the battle of Sardis, might be read in relation
with Agesilaus and the aim of his campaign. It is true that the fragmentary state
of the text does not allow us to know the name of the subject of this digression,
and beside Cyrus, other candidates have been suggested, too, such as Agesilaus
himself, Evagoras of Cyprus and Dionysius i of Syracuse.63 But some clues in
the text encourage us to lean towards the Cyrus-thesis64 (14, ll. 303–308):

303 ἡτοί]|μασεν ἡγε̣[μ_ _ _]|.τέρους Ἑλ[λ]η̣ [ν_ _ _]| ἢ̣ τοὺ[ς]

ἐκ τ[ο]ῦ π[ο]λ[έμου] γιγνομ[ένους .......... . . ]|νος
δὲ τὴν [ἡ]σ̣ [υ]χ[ί]αν ἄριστα τ[οῖς πράγμασι φαίνεται]|
κεχρημέν[ος·] οὐ γὰρ ὥσπερ ο[ἱ πλεῖστοι τῶν πρὸ τοῦ
δυ]|ναστευόντω[ν] ὥρμησεν ἐ|̣ [πί τὰς τῶν χρημάτων
ἁρπα]|γάς, καὶ δη[μο]τικώτ̣α[τ]ο̣ς τ[........ . . . . . .

I would suggest a supplement for the two lacunas of line 303, that is: ἡγε̣[μονι]|
ωτέρους65 Ἑλ[λ]ή̣ [νων]| or Ἑλ[λ]ή̣ [νας. I prefer Ἑλ[λ]ή̣ [νων], as the omega may
exceed one space; then the subject in question would prepare those among
the Greeks who were naturally talented for leadership, and not those who
(perhaps) were available from the war. Moreover, in periods of inactivity/peace
he clearly could adapt to circumstances, since, unlike the previous ‘dynasts,’
he did not turn immediately to plunder, but was demotikotatos. The present

62 See ch. 5.3.

63 Bruce (1967): 93–95.
64 So Bartoletti (1959): xvi–xvii. For a different reading see lastly Magnelli (2001): 155–165;
the scholar suggests that the personage of the lacuna is Agesilaus.
65 ἡγεμόνιος is only attested as epithet of Hermes. Cf. Aristoph. Pl. 1159.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 45

participle γιγνομ[ένους suggests that the action is still in progress. The context
is related to a military scenario, presumably a campaign. A substantial part of
Cyrus’ army was made of Greek soldiers; there were also numerous non-Greek
troops coming from western satrapies;66 however, Cyrus’ followers and soldiers
were perceived by Greek audiences as Greeks, whatever their origin was. If my
supplement is correct, in this presumed digression the author may be seeking
to characterise Cyrus and his army as very close to the Greek side, or even as
Greeks themselves.
We find the word demotikotatos used to refer to the person mentioned in
the papyrus. The superlative form of demotikos appears first in fourth-century
writers who frequently referred anachronistically to the tyrannical past of
Athens and her nomothetai.67 That is, the notion of demokratia does not refer
strictly to democratic constitutional systems. The Oxyrhynchus historian him-
self employs the word demokratia with reference to the coup d’ état at Rhodes,
pursued by Conon (15.3, l. 376). I would suggest that the term demotikotatos,
coming from the semantic field of politics,68 might have been used here in
a broader sense, pertaining to the military sphere, with a peculiar meaning,
that of leaders who are seen as ‘very approachable and affable with soldiers.’69
Xenophon, too, moves terms easily from one semantic field to another, since
he uses the word demagogos—another term related to political experience—
as an equivalent of philostratiotes, ‘friend of soldiers,’ with a special emphasis
on qualities of good leaders, like approachability and affability; this was, more-
over, a charge that the Spartan authorities made against Xenophon himself (An.
7.6.4).
The participle οἱ δυναστεύοντες, indicating the predecessors of the subject of
the passage, seems to reinforce the suggestion that Cyrus may indeed be the
man in question. The verb δυναστεύω is used elsewhere by the Oxyrhynchus
historian with reference to the internal policy of the group led by Astia and
Leontiades (17.2, l. 434), the leaders of the pro-Spartan group that operated
at Thebes during the Decelean war (οὗτοι μ[ᾶ]λ|λον ἐδυνάστευον τῶν ἑτέρων,
17.3). It takes on, thus, an oligarchic connotation, especially if compared with

66 Lane Fox (2004): 16.

67 The term demotikotatos is used to define either Solon or Peisistratus (Isocr. [7] 16 and 59;
Arist. ap 13.5; 14.1; Hyper. [3] col. 10, l. 10). According to Aristotle demotikotata is also Solon’s
politeia (ap 9.1; 22.1). Cf. my contribution (2011): 299.
68 Take, for example, the Oxyrhynchus historian, who uses the term demotikos (demotikoi)
to indicate the popular grouping that was active in Athens during the period of the
Corinthian war (6.3, l. 19).
69 There are examples of δημαγωγεῖν τὸ στράτευμα in later authors (esp. Plutarch).
46 chapter 3

Xenophon’s usage of the noun δυναστεία, which refers to the oligarchic factions
that came to power (δυναστεῖαι καθειστήκεσαν, Hell. 5.4.46) in Boeotia with
Spartan support in the 380s.
We have noticed that the ho’s vocabulary usually remains pretty close to
the Persian spelling of nouns and the text gives a Greek equivalent only spo-
radically. Nevertheless, I suspect that here the case is the opposite, that is,
δυναστεύων/δυνάστης is referring to a peculiar Persian office, translated or given
with a Greek term, which has nothing to do with Greek understanding of the
notion of fourth-century basileia/dynasteia (that held, for instance, by the two
Dionysii or by Evagoras).70 In fact, even though the term ‘dynast’ may fit Agesi-
laus, it cannot be a reference to his predecessors in Asia (ο[ἱ πλεῖστοι τῶν πρὸ τοῦ
δυ]|ναστευόντω[ν], l. 306–307), Thibron and Dercylidas, who are not kings; con-
versely, Agesilaus’ ‘predecessors’ in Asia cannot be the previous Spartan kings,
for within this military ‘eastern’ context that would make no sense at all. There-
fore, I am led to think that the Oxyrhynchus historian intended to call Cyrus
(as well as his predecessors, ο[ἱ πλεῖστοι τῶν πρὸ τοῦ δυ]|ναστευόντω[ν]) by his
own military title, ὑπάρχων δυνάστης, chief of generals (of infantry, cavalry, etc.).
This expression seems, in fact, to be the Greek equivalent of a kind of power-
ful Persian office. For we know that Cyrus, during his march in Cappadocia,
put to death on the charge of conspiracy a Persian called Megaphernes, who
was entitled to wear the royal purple, and another powerful person among the
governing class, ἕτερόν τινα τῶν ὑπάρχων δυνάστην (Xen. An. 1.2.20). This sug-
gests by analogy that the title dynastes might be used in reference to Cyrus, too;
Ctesias, for instance, held the office of general (ὑπῆρξε) in Cyrus army (t 3),71
and in the Anabasis the Persian Ariaeus is called ὁ Κύρου ὕπαρχος (Xen. An.
1.8.5).72
If we are right in identifying the personage in question with Cyrus, then
Cyrus and the placement of the digression (the aftermath of the battle near
Sardis) must be related to Agesilaus’ campaign. The association of the two
chiefs, even though it is speculative, appears to suggest the great value placed
on Agesilaus’ expedition against the Persian King.

70 See, for instance, Diod. 15.23; 16.17; Theop. FGrHist 115, f 103. Cf. Sartori (1966): 3–61.
71 Κτησίας δὲ ὁ Κνίδιος τοῖς μὲν χρόνοις ὑπῆρξε κατὰ τὴν Κύρου στρατείαν ἐπὶ Ἀρταξέρξην τὸν
ἀδελφόν, γενόμενος δ’ αἰχμάλωτος καὶ διὰ τὴν ἰατρικὴν ἐπιστήμην ἀναληφθεὶς ὑπὸ τοῦ βασιλέως,
ἑπτακαίδεκα ἔτη διετέλεσε τιμώμενος ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ.
72 Cf. Nussbaum (1967): 32–48. It is interesting to notice that in the ho the same Ariaeus is
mentioned among Tissaphernes’ strategoi, or generals (19.3, ll. 559–560; cf. 12.4). That is, a
Greek term (στρατηγός) is employed to indicate a Persian military office, showing a certain
degree of changeability in Greek terminological usages.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 47

Besides this presumed association, the epic character of the expedition

was emphasised, as is well known, by the imitatio Agamemnonis. Like a new
Agamemnon, Agesilaus tried to perform a sacrifice in Aulis, presenting the
enterprise as a new Trojan war. But the boeotarchs ordered Agesilaus to desist
from his intent, and cast the pieces of the victim down from the altar, spoiling
the sacrifice and producing an ill omen.73 According to Plutarch, who adds a
detail that is not mentioned by other sources, Agesilaus travelled to Aulis and
spent the night there, during which he had a dream: he was reminded that
he was the first Greek chosen to command all the Greeks since Agamemnon.
Then he was ordered to offer the same sacrifice as Agamemnon had. At any
rate, he decided not to make a grisly sacrifice, and—unlike Agamemnon who
had killed his daughter Iphigeneia—he offered a hind instead of a virgin.74 The
Boeotarchs, continues Plutarch, interfered and interrupted the rite because
Agesilaus’ personal mantis had offered a hind as sacrifice, without obeying the
traditional Boeotian laws that prescribed using one of their own priests for that
kind of sacrifice.75
The Boeotian opposition to the sacrifice, followed by the sacrilegious action
at Aulis, as well as the topic of the dream, seems to reflect a sort of post eventum
reasoning that echoes anti-Spartan feeling.76 It might mirror a kind of debate
that arose at Sparta about the significance of the mimesis of Agamemnon;
in particular, the tale of the dream may have been elaborated a posteriori by
Agesilaus’ philoi, after the expedition was open to criticism, either due to its

73 Xen. Hell. 3.4.3–4; Plut. Ages. 6.4–6. Cf. Paus. 3.9.2–5.

74 Plut. Ages. 6.4–5.
75 Plut. Ages. 6.6.9. Though the accusers make no mention of the substitution of the victim,
it is very interesting to note that the substitution of Iphigeneia with a hind was made
by Agamemnon, too, according to Proclus’ Epitome of the Cypria, an epic poem written
in the sixth century bc. Moreover, Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign seems to take the same
route as the former expedition of Agamemnon, which, according to the Cypria, was
directed against Telephus’ Mysia by mistake, after a trans-Cycladic and Ionic itinerary
with stops along the central coast of western Anatolia; however, only the later expedition
of Agamemnon to Tenedos was successful. It is surprising that the question was not
raised by Agesilaus’ detractors, since this tradition (Cyprian), alternative to the Iliadic, was
presumably widespread and well-known. Davies (1988): 30–33, Ragone (1996): 26, note 9.
76 According to Xenophon (Hell. 7.1.34), Pelopidas, who in 367 negotiated peace agreements
with Sparta and Athens under the supervision of the Persian King, reminded him that
the Thebans in the past had refused to participate in the Asiatic campaign, and had not
allowed Agesilaus to sacrifice at Aulis. The Thebans, like the Corinthians, had also refused
to participate in Pausanias’s campaign in Attica (403) and in Agis’ expedition against Elis
(399). Cf. Xen. Hell. 2.4.29–30.
48 chapter 3

conception or its execution.77 That is especially so if we consider that at the

very beginning the project of Agesilaus’ expedition ran into strong resistance
in Sparta, so that Lysander, to win over the opposition at home, wrote to his
numerous friends in the Greek cities of Asia Minor, asking them to request that
the king be sent to their aid.78
Aside from what may be called ‘representations’ of Agesilaus’ objectives and,
presumably, of polemics against him, the Asiatic campaign does indeed seem
to bear a new character in comparison with fifth-century Greek experiences in
Asia, as Briant explains:79

Mais, au-delà de la polémique grecque et des fantasmes personnels du roi

lacédémonien, il ne fait pas de doute que dès son arrivée en Asie Mineure
il entendait mener une toute autre guerre que celle qu’avaient conduite
ses prédécesseurs du ve siècle: à l’exception d’ une apparition éphémère
de troupes lacédémoniennes dans la vallée du Méandre ou d’ une razzia
athénienne dans les champs de Lydie (Hell. i, 2.4–5), les généraux grecs
du ve siècle s’en sont toujours tenus à des operations sur le littoral et à
des pillages dans les parties du territoire royal les plus proches des côtes.

Greek political realities of the fifth century did not lead the Greeks to consider
as practical or realistically feasible the idea of marching as far as the inner
regions of the Persian empire. Admittedly, we can remember the warning that
Mardonius gave Xerxes on the eve of the Second Persian war (‘you ought to
march against Greece. It will enhance your reputation, and also make people
think twice in the future before attacking your territory,’80 Hdt. 7.5), and still
more Xerxes’ own words about that expedition: ‘If I fail to punish the Athenians,
may I no longer be descended from Darius, son of Hystaspes, son of Arsames,
son of Ariaramnes, son of Teïspes, and from Cyrus, son of Cambyses, son
of Cyrus, son of Teïspes, son of Achaemenes. I am sure the Athenians will
do something if we do not; to judge by their past moves, they will certainly
mount an expedition against our country’ (7.11). However, Mardonius’ and
Xerxes’ arguments better suit the thinking of the epoch in which Herodotus
was himself writing, appearing as a sort of foreshadowing of what was later

77 Cf. Bommelaer (1983): 19–26.

78 Hamilton (1991): 29. Plutarch stresses that Lysander put pressure on Spartan authorities
to give the general command in Asia to Agesilaus (Ages. 6.2; Lys. 23.1–2; cf. Xen. Hell. 3.4.2
and Iust. 6.2.4–6).
79 Briant (1996): 660.
80 Transl. by R. Waterfield.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 49

in people’s minds. In any case only after the Ten Thousand’s expedition was
Greek public opinion led to realise the permeability of the Persian empire, and
to speculate about the feasibility of invading and conquering that realm.
Agesilaus’ goals are, however, unfeasible, and he does not seem capable of
expelling the Persians from the satrapies of Sardis and Dascylium. Even if he
had been able to do so, that result would have appeared too far from the spirit
of those who were directing policy in Sparta at all levels. Moreover, in Asia he
discovered the inadequacy of his cavalry81 and, what proved to be decisive—
as we shall show in the next section—, he faced the strong opposition of the
Persian forces.82

3.4 The End of a Dream?

According to the ho, Agesilaus would have liked to march into the inner parts of
the Persian domain. If this statement is true, then what were the main obstacles
to accomplishing his goal?
While for Xenophon it was the King’s gold that interrupted the Asiatic
expedition of Agesilaus, from the Oxyrhynchus historian we have learned that
Persian bribery was not the true cause of the outbreak of the Corinthian war,
and consequently of the recalling of Agesilaus from Asia, as there is evidence
of long-standing hostility of numerous Greek cities towards Sparta.83 Agesilaus’
experience in Asia, according to the ho, appears to be a mix of successes and
failures.
Several sources agree, moreover, that Agesilaus knew well the weakness of
Spartan cavalry.84 So first of all, at the very beginning of his campaign, upon
his arrival at Ephesus, Agesilaus and Tissaphernes established a truce; from
his headquarters at Ephesus he directed his army to Phrygia (the satrapy of
Pharnabazus) in order to test the enemy cavalry; in the winter he returned
to Ephesus and spent part of that period raising and training a cavalry force;
later, in the following spring, he marched against Sardis (in Lydia, the satrapy
of Tissaphernes).85
In spite of the successful outcome near Sardis, Agesilaus did not attempt
to attack the city herself (by which he could have conquered the satrapy of

81 Cf. Xen. Hell. 3.4.15–18.

82 Briant (1996): 664.
83 Above, ch. 3.1.
84 Xen. Hell. 3.4.15.
85 Xen. Hell. 3.4.16–21; Diod. 14.79; Nep. Ages. 2–4; Xen. Ages. 1.16.
50 chapter 3

Lydia), but, according to the Oxyrhynchus historian, went on a pillaging march

as far as the river Maeander with the aim of marching against Celaenae, the
greatest city in Greater Phrygia, followed at a distance by Tissaphernes’ army
(12.1–4). Agesilaus performed a sacrifice, asking the gods if it were opportune
to attack Celaenae; they answered negatively and so he then returned back
to Ephesus (ll. 223–232).86 The whole episode, with its focus on Agesilaus,
reflects his reluctance to press an invasion of inland Persian territories. We have
become accustomed to cases where bad omens explain, justify, or reinforce post
eventum something that happened or did not happen,87 and here, in particular,
the result of the sacrifice appears to hint at the decision, made a priori, to
interrupt the march, probably because travelling inland would have been too
dangerous for his force88 (he had already avoided any attempt to capture
Sardis!). As a consequence, Agesilaus directed his forces to the Hellespont to
invade Hellespontic Phrygia, Pharnabazus’ country (21.1). Neither Xenophon
nor Diodorus mention the continuation of Agesilaus’ expedition after the battle
of Sardis. Xenophon, for his part, allows us to infer that after the battle near
Sardis the Spartan king did not leave the environs of Sardis until he set off for
Pharnabazus’ Phrygia. According to his account, in fact, after the battle near
Sardis, Tissaphernes was accused by the Persians in Sardis and sentenced to
death. Tithraustes was put in charge of Sardis and, upon his arrival, he informed
Agesilaus of the King’s conditions for a six-month truce.89 The truce was made,
and Agesilaus obtained the provisions necessary to march against Hellespontic
Phrygia.90
Referring to Agesilaus’ arrival in Pharnabazus’ Phrygia, the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian uses an uncommon and inappropriate verb, κα[τ]ῆ̣ ρ̣εν (21.1, l. 646). The
verb καταίρω means ‘to swoop down,’91 and it is generally used of birds or bees,
sometimes of ships coming to harbour.92 ‘To swoop down’ (καταίρω) clearly
does not fit as a synonym of the more general verb ‘to go to’ (ἔρχομαι, which
would have given ἦλθον, ‘they went’). It has been noticed that Theopompus

86 Cf. Diod. 14.80.5: Agesilaus was about to attack the satrapies farther inland, but led his
army back to the sea when he could not obtain favourable omens from the sacrifices.
87 It is not always so, however: see Parker (2000): 299–314 and (2004): 131–153.
88 Agesilaus’ inability to capture fortified centres is a point stressed in Briant’s analysis of the
campaign. Briant (1996): 660–664. Cf. McKechnie-Kern (1988): 147–148.
89 Xen. Hell. 3.4.25.
90 Cf. Briant (1996): 656–664.
91 Cf. ll. 282–283, where κα]|τῆρεν εἰς is used as ‘swooped down on’ in the context of Tissa-
phernes’ execution.
92 Cf. lsj.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 51

often uses κατᾶραι as an equivalent of ἐλθεῖν,93 and this stylistic element might
weigh in favour of the hypothesis of Theopompus’ authorship. Nevertheless,
two main objections can be raised here. First, the metaphorical usage of the
verb might have been more common among fourth-century writers than sur-
viving sources show.94 Second, if Theopompus is accepted as the author of the
ho, we should in that case expect to find within the well-preserved sections
of Agesilaus’ campaign in Phrygia and Paphlagonia (21–22), as given by the
ho, the tale of the meeting between Agesilaus and Pharnabazus, a tale which
Theopompus clearly relished.95 According to Porphyrius, in fact, Theopom-
pus, following Xenophon’s account,96 re-wrote that episode, and in so doing
made the dialogue between the two, Agesilaus and Pharnabazus, worse from
a stylistic point of view (βραδὺς […] καὶ τὸ ἔμψυχον καὶ ἐνεργὸν τὸ Ξενοφῶντος
διαφθείρων, f 21).
The Xenophontic gap between Agesilaus’ departure from Sardis towards
Pharnabazus’ country (Xen. Hell. 3.4.26–29; 4.1.1) and his meeting with the
king of the Paphlagonians (Hell. 4.1.3) is filled by the ho with Agesilaus’ march
towards Greater Phrygia, Celaenae (12.1–4) and the Mysian ambush (which we
have dealt with above, 3.2)—on the way to Hellespontic Phrygia (21.1–3). Some
hints suggest that while the Oxyrhynchus historian is replying to Xenophon’s
text, he is also re-working the material supplied by his informants.
According to the Oxyrhynchus historian, when, after the Mysian campaign,
Agesilaus went down into Hellespontic Phrygia, he led his army ‘not into the
region which he had invaded the previous summer but into another area as
yet unravaged, and he plundered it’ (21.3). We do not have the account of
this particular event from the previous summer in the fragments of the ho;97
and this might depend on the fact that parts of the papyrus are missing.98
However, the negative form placed here in a strong position (οὐκ εἰς [ἣ]ν τοῦ
προτέρου [θέρ]ους ἐνέβαλεν) makes good sense in reference to the more general
description of the same episode that we find in Xenophon: ‘he [Agesilaus]
burned the crops, ravaged the land, and won over the cities either by force or by
their voluntary surrender’ (Hell. 4.1.1). The Xenophontic remark that Agesilaus
took some cities by force, while others handed themselves over to him of their

93 Theop. FGrHist 115, f 265. McKechnie-Kern (1988): 178.

94 McKechnie-Kern (1988): 178.
95 Cf. Shrimpton (1991): 191.
96 Xen. Hell. 14.1.29–40. Cf. Gray (1989): 52–58.
97 Cf. Xen. Hell. 3.4.11, Diod. 14.79.3.
98 Seven or eight columns are missing from the papyrus between sections b and d; D’Alessio
(2001): 32.
52 chapter 3

own free will (Hell. 4.1.1), shows a noteworthy discrepancy from the ho’s text,
according to which Agesilaus made unsuccessful attempts to occupy Leonton
Cephalae, Gordium and Miletou Teichos, and did not succeed in taking any
towns in Phrygia (21.5–22.3).
I would suggest that the ho used further sources other than Xenophon’s nar-
rative. This is shown by the story of Spithridates, a Persian man, ex-lieutenant
of Pharnabazus,99 who together with his son Megabates led Agesilaus into
Phrygia and Paphlagonia (21.4). In Xenophon he receives only a cursory men-
tion, in a different context.100 The erotic nuance of the story, absent in Xeno-
phon, is artfully suggested in the papyrus through a flashback to Spithridates’
previous career, which ends by hinting at his son’s beauty (ll. 693–698). The
text continues by explaining that, as people are saying (λέγεται)—presumably
at the time of the Oxyrhynchus historian’s writing—, Agesilaus was extremely
infatuated with the young, and this partially determined the decision to ap-
point Spithridates as his guide (ll. 698–703).101 Furthermore, there are also
other examples which suggest possible informants as sources, who presum-
ably were present at the events or were related in some way to the events, the
memory of which was still alive at the time of writing. In fact, the account of
Agesilaus’ march through Paphlagonia, as found in the ho (22.1–4), to some
extent seems to depend on what was currently believed or known. For when
Agesilaus arrived at lake Dascylitis, the narrator clarifies that some used to say
(ἔλεγον—note the use of the imperfect) that at Dascylium, Pharnabazus stored
the silver and gold that he had (l. 743). Moreover, the misunderstanding of the
geographical configuration of Cappadocia, portrayed as a narrow strip, begin-
ning at the Pontic Sea and going from there to Cilicia and Phoenicia, appears to
come from Agesilaus’ own informants (ἀκού]ων ταύτην τὴν χώραν κτλ., l. 756).
The only event of which we have parallel narratives in both Xenophon and
the ho is the controversial episode of the alliance that Spithridates obtained

99 Cf. Xen. An. 6.5.7.

100 Hell. 3.4.10.
101 Also the general picture of Agesilaus in Plutarch carries an erotic nuance absent in
Xenophon; on several occasions Plutarch introduces sexual affairs that involve the king;
especially with reference to the relation between Agesilaus and Megabates we find the
famous story of a kiss that Agesilaus refused to his beloved, which worsened the relations
between the two (Plut. Ages. 11). This particular episode may be explained with Plutarch’s
use of the ho among his sources, and may be intended to stress the extraordinary strength
of Agesilaus’ character. According to Pontier (2012): 611–639, while for Cyrus kissing is a
social custom, associated with the distribution of honour at his court, for Agesilaus the
promise of a kiss from a beautiful Persian youth is a threat to his own virtue.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 53

for Agesilaus from the king of the Paphlagonians.102 The two historians give
different versions of the name of the Paphlagonian king,103 the meeting place
between Greeks and Paphlagonians,104 the character of those negotiations105
and the Paphlagonian troops added to Agesilaus’ army.106 I believe that these
discrepancies express different narrative and thematic purposes and cannot
be explained simply by the mere substitution of names of persons, places,
etc., made by the Oxyrhynchus historian in his re-moulding of Xenophon’s
account.107 The general impression is that the historical information given by
Xenophon is quite generic, and moreover focused on the marriage between
Spithridates’ daughter and Otys. As has been assumed, Xenophon could have
said more about the alliance if he had wished.108 He briefly introduces the king
and the alliance in medias res (‘when he [Agesilaus] reached Paphlagonia king
Otys came to him and made an alliance with him,’Hell. 4.1.3), probably because
his choice of the marriage as a subject worthy of elaboration is important and
deliberate. The episode of the ensuing dialogues that Agesilaus has, first with
Spithridates and then with Otys, illustrates something that goes far beyond
mere gratitude on Agesilaus’ part to friends like Spithridates, on account of the
alliance that the ex-lieutenant of Pharnabazus has favoured. It shows rather
that the friends of Agesilaus can rely on him; but he pursues primarily his

102 Xen. Hell. 4.1.3–15; P. Oxy. v 842, 22.1–2.

103 The papyrus has Γύης. For Xenophon the name of the Paphlagonian king is Ὄτυς in the
Hellenica, Κότυς in the Agesilaus (3). Cf. Plut. Ages.11. Theopompus names him Θῦς (f 179),
and Nepos uses the form Thys (Datam. 2.2). Cf. Aelian. v.h. 1.27. Κότυς has been judged as
a corruption due to analogy with the Thracian name Κότυς, and it has been, moreover,
suggested that the noun form Γύης of the papyrus should be rectified with the more correct
Τύης. This because the initial dental would be heard by Greeks as voiceless or aspirated.
Pintaudi (2003): 73. Cf. Athen. 4 p. 144 f; 10 p. 415 d.
104 According to the Oxyrhynchus historian Agesilaus pitched camp near the borders of
Phrygia and Paphlagonia and sent Spithridates to the king of the Paphlagonians, Gyes,
in order to make an alliance (22.1). Xenophon with the sentence ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀφίκετο εἰς τὴν
Παφλαγονίαν seems to suggest that Agesilaus entered the king’s country (Hell. 4.1.3).
105 In the ho Spithridates was sent to Gyes to persuade him to make an alliance with Agesi-
laus, and he took Gyes to the Spartan king. For Xenophon Otys in person went to Agesilaus’
camp. Moreover, Xenophon refers a long account of the ensuing dialogue between Age-
silaus and Spithridates and then between Agesilaus and Otys on the marriage proposal
regarding Spithridates’ daughter and Otys (4.1.3–15), which is absent in the ho.
106 In the ho Gyes sent his Paphlagonian troops to Agesilaus; for Xenophon Otys left his troops
in the Greek camp in the course of the negotiations with Agesilaus.
107 Bleckmann (2006): 12–21.
108 Gray (1989): 49. Cf. also Dugas (1910): 91 ff. and Botha (1980): 93ff.
54 chapter 3

own interest in helping friends, and he does not even consult them.109 The
account begins with the expectation that Otys would not be keen to accept the
daughter of a humble exile—as Spithridates’ words suggest—and ends with
Otys’ enthusiastic acceptance of the girl and his impatience to meet her. Truly
the story ends as Agesilaus wants it to do. He acts in a manipulative way towards
both of them. First, in his meeting with Spithridates, he hints at the marriage,
and second, after removing the Persian from the scene of the talks, gives Otys
to understand that Spithridates is not aware of that proposal. Furthermore,
Agesilaus’ marriage proposal to the Paphlagonian king (‘I should advise you to
marry the girl’), though it is a sort of seal of those negotiations, sounds rather
like an order. That Otys has understood Agesilaus’ manipulation is clear from
his question: ‘can you tell me, Agesilaus, whether what you are saying has the
approval of Spithridates too?’ Later, his answer (‘As a matter of fact, I think he
would be more easily won over by you than by all the rest put together’) to
Agesilaus’ question—whether they both should call on Spithridates to propose
that marriage—throws light on what should be a voluntary submission to a
preordained decision.
In the context of Agesilaus’ alliance with the Paphlagonians, the ho puts
more explicit emphasis than Xenophon on Agesilaus’ concern for his soldiers,
on supply shortage and also on the Mysians’ treachery. After this alliance with
the Paphlagonian king, Agesilaus, according to the ho, ‘did not march by the
route by which he had come but another one, since he thought that the crossing
of the Sangarion would be less exhausting for his soldiers’ (22.1, ll. 724–727). This
statement is important also for another reason. At Hell. 4.1.16 we read that, after
that alliance, Agesilaus set off for Dascyleium, the place where the palace of
Pharnabazus was situated. And, there, there was a river, full of all kinds of fish,
flowing by the palace; in this place Agesilaus spent the winter. Now, the context
is the same as that given by the ho, and, again, one may wonder whether the
Oxyrhynchus historian, who again gives a statement in a negative form (ἐποιεῖτο
δὲ τὴν πορε[ί]|αν οὐκέτ[ι τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδόν, ἥν]περ ἦλθε⟨ν⟩, ἀλλ’ ἑτέραν κτλ.),110
is replying to Xenophon’s generic treatment of the topographic information
pertaining to that campaign.
After leaving Paphlagonia, Agesilaus’ return to Hellespont is marked by yet
another failure: ‘he led the Greeks through coastal Phrygia and attacked a place

109 This is, moreover, the main point of the conversation between Agesilaus and Otys, as we
learn that Agesilaus takes as much delight in helping friends as in harming enemies (Hell.
4.1.10). Gray (1989): 50–52.
110 See above. There are no missing parts from the papyrus in reference to the account of
Agesilaus’ Paphlagonian campaign.
spartan motivations: the ho and xenophon 55

called Miletou Teichos. He could not take it and led his soldiers away’ (ll. 736–
739). The dream of attacking the heart of the Persian kingdom is, thus, arrested
partially by the weakness of Agesilaus’ forces and partially by the opposition of
the populations of inner Anatolia, and in particular of Mysians and Paphlago-
nians. Those peoples were presumably more directly controlled by the Persians
than the Oxyrhynchus historian himself suggests. In fact, though he maintains
that the majority of the Mysians were independent and not subjected to the
Great King, and consequently Agesilaus ordered them to campaign with him
(21.1), Diodorus, in different contexts (the expedition of Cyrus the younger and
a rebellion of satraps in 360 bc), hints at a satrap of Paphlagonia and at another
of Mysia (14.11.3; 15.90.3). It is true that the Diodorean terminology might be
unfitting, and those Persian offices might well refer to a kind of appointment
held by other kinds of officials; if so, however, they were in any case subordi-
nated to satraps or to other Persian authorities.111
Finally, the alliances made with barbarians, such as that with the Mysians,
who chose to join Agesilaus’ expedition, with the Persian Spithridates and the
king of the Paphlagonians (21.1; 21.3; 22.1), were clearly unstable and weak-
ened Agesilaus’ forces further. The treacherous behaviour of the Mysians is
denounced by the Oxyrhynchus historian himself (22.3, ll. 732–736), and the
desertion of Spithridates and the Paphlagonians is judged by Xenophon as the
most grievous blow that Agesilaus suffered in the course of the campaign.112

3.5 Conclusion

In comparison with the Hellenica of Xenophon, the ho gives space to the Per-
sian side—the Persians’ viewpoint and feelings—and offers a more balanced

111 Briant (1996): 661.

112 Xen. Hell. 4.1.28. Cf. Plut. Ages. 11. Beside the dialogues between Agesilaus and Pharna-
bazus (Xen. Hell. 4.1.29–40) and Agesilaus and Otys (3–15), further episodes are omitted
by the ho: the account of an encounter between Pharnabazus and a small number of
Greek soldiers (Hell. 4.1.16–19) and the episode of a successful Greek attack on Pharnaba-
zus’ camp, led by the Spartan Herippidas (20 ff.). After Herippidas deprived Spithridates
and the Paphlagonians of their share of the booty, they left for Sardis to approach the
Persian Ariaeus, satrap of Lydia, because Spithridates wanted to become reconciled with
the Persian King by his intercession (26–28). Ariaeus had been among the supporters of
Cyrus and after the defeat at Cunaxa he had returned to Artaxerxes (Xen. An. 1.8.5; 9.31;
2.2.1), obtaining control over Lydia. According to the Oxyrhynchus historian, he gained
control of Lydia by Tithraustes’ intercession (19.3).
56 chapter 3

interaction of players, as well as an account of the Asiatic campaign that is

clearly different in shape. Xenophon makes generic statements to his readers
about Agesilaus’ movements through Asia Minor, as well as about the topogra-
phy. These differences fit, clearly, the different narrative purposes held by the
two authors.
Seen as a whole, the account of Agesilaus’ campaign shows that the Oxy-
rhynchus historian, on the one hand, replies to Xenophon’s text, and, on the
other, re-moulds news coming from informants who, presumably, were present
at the events or had some relation to events whose memory was still alive at
the time of writing. This may be an indication of the author’s access to either
Persian informants or Persian written sources as well.
Agesilaus, as portrayed by the ho, intends to repeat the enterprise of Cyrus.
According to the Oxyrhynchus historian, in fact, the aim of Agesilaus is to
march towards Cappadocia (the papyrus breaks off with this notice). This as-
sumption is, moreover, partially confirmed by Xenophon himself (Hell. 4.1.41).
Furthermore, the experience of the Ten Thousand, a sort of historical prece-
dent, is still alive in the mind of the Oxyrhynchus historian, for he exploits
a narrative pattern—what we have called the ‘Cyrus-topic’—tending to asso-
ciate the conduct of Greek generals (Conon, Agesilaus, etc.) to that of Cyrus
the younger. Xenophon, too, bears memory of that enterprise and refers to it
throughout his Hellenica.
 chapter 4

Diodorus, the ho and Xenophon: A Reassessment

This chapter presents a new reading of the relationship between Diodorus’

Bibliotheke, the ho (London papyrus, Florence papyrus and Cairo papyrus)1 and
Xenophon’s Hellenica. Study cases are some accounts pertaining to the Spartan
expedition against Persia in the early fourth century (the battle of Sardis,2
395bc) as well as episodes of the last phases of the Peloponnesian war (the
battle of Notion, 407/406 bc, Thrasyllus’ operations in the Aegean Sea, 409 bc,
the Thirty under Theramenes).
The main objective is to cross-compare historiographical methods and prac-
tices of the authors in question in order to revise and reject old-fashioned
theories about Diodorus’ way of reworking his source material (in reference
to some sections of books 13–15). All the cases examined contain very relevant
information and have not hitherto been closely evaluated; the criterion cho-
sen is thematic, not chronological, and a good deal of emphasis is placed on
papyrological aspects and issues related to the three papyri forming the ho.
Several crucial questions are raised here: in what way does Diodorus dis-
tance himself from his sources, even when he follows them closely? How
does he conciliate fourth-century history, Greek vocabulary and Roman his-
toriographical modes and ideology? What functions do moralism and human
chararacterisation have and how are they employed?

4.1 The ho as a Source for Diodorus’ Bibliotheke

Studying the ho requires us to turn our attention to Diodorean narrative, since

we depend on it for much of what is known of mid-fourth-century history. But
our attempt to uncover the various strata of the tradition obviously requires
great caution since there is the risk of attributing them too easily to one specific
source. According to the nineteenth-century approach the value of Diodorean
narrative depended on the sources that the historian used, and aside from
factual errors and chronological blunders Diodorus was assumed to remain
exceedingly faithful to his sources, acting as not much more than a copyist.
Recent contributions have tried to restore Diodorus to his proper stature in his

1 Respectively P. Oxy. v 842, psi xiii 1304, and 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1.

2 For the comparison between the ho and Xenophon on the battle of Sardis see ch. 3.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_005

58 chapter 4

own times by approaching the issue in different terms, that is by grasping and
explaining the historiographical, political and philosophical categories that
Diodorus applied to his work, in consideration of both the Roman background
of the historian and his moral outlook.3
A common claim within the tradition of Diodorean Quellenforschung is
that the ho was among the sources of the Bibliotheke, but was only known to
Diodorus through Ephorus’ mediation. In fact, it was considered an established
fact for nearly a century that Diodorus used Ephorus as the main authority for
books 11 through 16 of his work, and was capable of no more than mechanically
reproducing the words of his source. While Ephorus was usually considered
the main authority followed by Diodorus for fifth- and fourth-century history,
all other historians (Ephorus’ contemporaries or predecessors), according to
scholars, were known to Diodorus only through Ephorus’ mediation. Diodorus’
narrative was, therefore, carefully investigated in order to find evidence of
Ephorus and, behind that, evidence of Ephorus’ sources. There is, it must be
said, a sort of hazardous circularity in assuming that because Diodorus wrote
universal history he must have based his work on a universal historian as well
(Ephorus), within whose work most fifth- and fourth-century historians would
also be traceable.
Ephorus himself is highly problematic. After all, his Histories is not extant,
with the exception of what is preserved on papyrus (P. Oxy. xiii 1610),4 and
we rely solely on the passages that later writers cite under his name (such as
Diodorus, Strabo and Plutarch). And in very few cases can we read Ephorus’
own exact words—just a few instances preserved in Strabo, Athenaeus and
Stephanus of Byzantium. Furthermore, scholars today are inclined to assume
that Diodorus might have gained his knowledge of fifth- and fourth-century
history through several other sources rather than through Ephorus alone, and
may have read them directly rather than acquiring their material only through
Ephorus’ mediation.5
It is therefore time to ask some crucial questions. To what extent might the
ho be considered even today a source of Diodorus’ books 14–15? And is it possi-
ble that it came directly to Diodorus, without the mediation of any other writer?
It is commonly accepted that Diodorus’ accounts of Cyrus’ expedition
against his brother Artaxerxes (14.19–31)6 and of Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign

3 Cf. Sacks (1990), Id. (1994): 213–232, Corsaro (1998): 405–436, Id. (1999): 117–169, Sulimani
(2011). Differently Ambaglio (1995).
4 Africa (1962): 86–89. See Occhipinti (2014 a): 25–33.
5 Cf. also Rood (2004 a): 362–365, Parmeggiani (2011): 373–394.
6 Westlake (1987): 241–254. Cf. Stylianou (1988): 463–471, Dillery (1995): 59. Stylianou’s more
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 59

(14.79–83) rely upon the versions contained in the ho, and the usual assump-
tion is again that this was transmitted to Diodorus through Ephorus’ work.
Unfortunately we do have not any direct account coming from the Oxyrhyn-
chus historian in regard to the first event, so any hypothetical reconstruction of
it remains highly speculative. What we can assert with some degree of certainty,
on the basis of the textual evidence given by the ho and in accordance with our
previous discussions, is that the figure of Cyrus should indeed be prominent in
that work, as Cyrus was associated with Conon and (presumably) with Agesi-
laus.7 Moreover, this might reflect the extent of the peculiar interest in useful
associations with Cyrus and his expedition that developed and intensified soon
after the Ten Thousand’s expedition came to an end. So, for instance, Xenophon
himself, as well as dealing with the topic in detail in his Anabasis, recalls Cyrus’
expedition many times in the Hellenica, too, especially in association with the
Spartan Asiatic campaigns (ch. 3). Nevertheless, our evidence does not allow
us to go beyond the partial data we have, relevant though they are.
As regards the second issue, that is to say Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign
described in the versions of the Oxyrhynchus historian and Diodorus, we may
begin with some of Westlake’s observations. The scholar noticed an incoherent
picture of Agesilaus throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth books of Diodorus’
Bibliotheke: initially Agesilaus is described with indifference (the Asiatic cam-
paign, 14.79–84), then he is censured (15.1–22), then praised (15.23–35); later he
is obscured (15.36–81), then is again depicted with favour (15.82–93).8 This con-
tinuous shift in characterisation was thought to emanate ‘not from changes
of opinion by a single author but from changes of sources involving conflict-
ing verdicts on the achievements, ability, and character of Agesilaus.’9 West-
lake assumed that through the intermediary Ephorus the ho was the source
responsible for the lack of enthusiasm in the Diodorean account of Agesilaus’
expedition (14.79–84), while (again through Ephorus’ mediation) Callisthenes’
Hellenica would be at the origin of the harsh treatment of Agesilaus found in
Diodorus’ fifteenth book. Admittedly, it is plausible that Callisthenes adopted a
hostile attitude towards the Spartans because as a court historian at the Mace-
donian royal house he might have naturally presented Sparta unsympatheti-
cally, given that the city was tenaciously opposed to Philip and Alexander; fur-
thermore as an Olynthian he may also have felt antipathy towards the Spartans,

recent essay (2004): 68–96 suggests that Diodorus’ account is primarily derived from Xeno-
phon’s Anabasis, supplemented by Ctesias.
7 Ch. 3.
8 Westlake (1986 b): 263–277.
9 Westlake (1986 b): 272–273.
60 chapter 4

who after the peace of Antalcidas had conquered his native city.10 But aside
from possible dependencies of Diodorus on these sources (the ho, Ephorus,
Callisthenes) for the factual development of his narrative, I wonder whether
some purely Diodorean additions can be detected as well. And, if so, might they
be related in particular to Diodorus’ harsh judgement of Spartan imperialism
(15.1–22)?
As Sacks showed some years ago, the additions in Diodorus’ text are more
frequently epideictic than factual. That is, the historian usually intrudes in
his narratives with political, moral and philosophical opinions, and tends not
to alter the événementiel form of the narrative itself, which remains largely
faithful to his sources.11 Because Diodorus is not interested in an event per se
but in what that event can offer in terms of moral teaching or entertainment,
the striking shift in tone between books fourteen and fifteen might not be
so striking after all. At the beginning of the fifteenth book, the Spartans are
accused of having lost their hegemony because of their harsh treatment of their
allies. The historian contrasts the virtue (arete) of ancient Spartans with the
foolishness (aboulia) of their descendants (15.1.3–5).12 And in the course of the
narrative, Spartan aggressive policy towards Mantinea, Cadmea and Olynthus
in the 380s bc appears to be in line with the adikia and aboulia he denounces
in the preface. Certain individuals, too, were responsible for that policy, which
was the result of specific political choices made by Agesilaus; the king is judged
drastikos and philopolemos (15.19.4; 15.31.4).13
This judgement of Spartan behaviour that we find in the narrative of the fif-
teenth book can therefore be explained not only or not necessarily by suggest-
ing a different source, but rather by noting its consistency with what Diodorus
has foreshadowed already in his preface to book 14, where it is said that the
Spartans—in a similar way to that of the Athenians and Syracusans—lost their
hegemony ὅτε πράξεις ἀδίκους κατὰ τῶν συμμάχων ἐπιτελεῖν ἐπεχείρησαν (‘when
they sought to carry out unjust projects at the expense of their allies,’ 2.1).14
In book 15 we find a form of empire that evolves from moderation into arro-
gance, as well as a development of the Spartan empire that fits with the cliché
of the superior moral conduct of the forefathers compared to the degeneration
of modern times: καὶ τοῖς ἐκ προγόνων ἀνικήτοις γεγονόσι τοσαύτη καταφρόνησις

10 Westlake (1986 b): 274.

11 Sacks (1990).
12 Cf. also Parmeggiani (2005): 67–103.
13 Diodorus’ use of the word drastikos is peculiar. Usually it refers to the active or efficient
element of something. Cf. Hornblower (1981): 279.
14 Transl. by C.H. Oldfather.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 61

ἐπηκολούθησεν, ὅσην εἰκός ἐστι γενέσθαι κατὰ τῶν ἀναιρούντων τὰς τῶν προγόνων
ἀρετάς (‘they who had been unconquered from their ancestors’ time were now
attended by such contempt as, it stands to reason, must befall those who oblit-
erate the virtues that characterised their ancestors,’ 15.1.4). Both conceptions
(the paradigm of the rise and fall of empires, and the moral degeneration of
modern times) may be considered in relation to a debate whose origins may
go back a long way (to Polybius) and which in Diodorus’ lifetime developed
further.15
That said, do we have enough evidence to compare Diodorus’ and the ho’s
narratives? Can we really answer the question regarding the extent of Diodorus’
debt to the ho?
Perhaps we do, and can, even though we are heavily limited by the state of
our evidence. We can start by adducing one particular case, that is, what is
preserved of the ho’s account of the battle of Sardis (part of Agesilaus’ Asiatic
campaign), which allows a close comparison to be made with the parallel
account given in Diodorus’ fourteenth book.
The battle of Sardis, fought by the armies of Agesilaus and Tissaphernes
in the valley of the Hermus (Paus. 3.9.6; cf. Diod. 14.80), or on the banks of
the Pactolus (Xen. Hell. 3.4.22), took place in the spring of 395 bc.16 For the
reconstruction of this battle scholars usually infer the contents of the ho’s
narrative through Diodorus’ account.17 This approach thus takes for granted
various factual aspects due to the presumed authority of the Oxyrhynchus
historian, when in reality these aspects instead reveal a perceptible distance
between that historian and Diodorus. They therefore need further examination
in their own right.
As we have discussed earlier (ch. 3), it is not fully clear which route Agesilaus
took from Ephesus to Sardis according to the Oxyrhynchus historian (11, ll. 123–
133); nevertheless it is highly probable that Agesilaus followed a path along
(and parallel to) the Cayster river, across the Tmolus. However, it is not obvious
which this route truly was,18 and, above all, it is not certain that it was the one
given by Diodorus, that is the Karabel route (80.1).

15 See below, Appendix, 3 Diodorus and Rome.

16 The differences between Diodorus (14.80.1–4) and Xenophon (Hell. 3.4.20–25 and Ages.
1.28–33) are so striking that it has even been doubted whether they describe the same
battle: Cawkwell (1968): 288–290.
17 Cf. Dugas (1910): 34, Nellen (1972): 49, Anderson (1975): 27–53, Botha (1988): 71–80, De Voto
(1988): 41–53, Wylie (1992): 118–130, Bleckmann (2006): 12–21.
18 See above, ch. 3.2.
 62 chapter 4

Diodorus maintains that Agesilaus encountered Tissaphernes’ army at the

foothills of Mount Sipylus and disposed his army in square formation (80.1).
The evidence coming from the Oxyrhynchus historian suggests a different
picture, namely that Agesilaus was still in the plain of Cayster when he first
met Tissaphernes (11, l. 125); there he drew up his troops (ταξά̣ με|[νος) and,
if we accept the supplement of Grenfell and Hunt (1908), there disposed his
army in square formation, εἰς πλινθίον (l. 126). He preceded (φθά|[σας, l. 128)
Tissaphernes, who had been pursuing him with his army (ἐπηκο]λούθει, l. 131).
Other clues show further discrepancies between the two authors. For Diodo-
rus, Tissaphernes was leading troops of 10,000 cavalry and 50,000 infantry
(14.80.1); in the ho the cavalry troops were somewhere between 14 and 19,000
(11.3). The description of the battle itself is partially different, too:

Diod. 14.80.2–5 P. Oxy. v 842, 11.4–12.4, ll. 176–232

[Agesilaus] ἀπέστειλε Ξενοκλέα τὸν μὲν] ὁπλίτας, [πεν] || τακοσίους δ[ὲ ψ]ιλούς, καὶ το[ύτοις
Σπαρτιάτην μετὰ χιλίων καὶ τετρακοσίων ἐπέστησεν ἄρχοντα] | Ξενοκλέα [Σ]παρτιάτην, π[αραγγείλας
στρατιωτῶν νυκτὸς εἴς τινα δασὺν τόπον, ὅταν γένωνται] | βαδίζοντε[ς] κατ’ αὐτοὺς [............
ὅπως ἐνεδρεύσῃ τοὺς βαρβάρους. 3. . . . . . . . . . . ] | εἰς μάχην τ[άττ]εσθαι. [ ..............
αὐτὸς δ’ ἅμ’ ἡμέρᾳ πορευόμενος μετὰ . . . . . . ]κ̣ [ . . ] | ἀναστήσας ἅ[μα τῇ ἡμ]έρᾳ [τ]ὸ̣ [στ]ρ̣ά̣[τε]υ̣- 180
τῆς δυνάμεως, ἐπειδὴ τὴν μὲν ἐνέδραν [μα πάλιν] ἀνῆ|γεν εἰς τὸ πρ[όσθεν. οἱ] δὲ βάρβαροι
παρήλλαξεν, οἱ δὲ βάρβαροι προσπίπτοντες συνα[κολουθήσ]αντες | ὡς εἰώθεσα[ν οἱ μὲ]ν αὐτῶν προσέ-
ἀτάκτως τοῖς ἐπὶ τῆς οὐραγίας ἐξήπτοντο, βαλλ[ον] τοῖς Ἕλλη|σιν, οἱ δὲ πε[ριίππε]υον αὐτούς, οἱ δὲ
παραδόξως ἐξαίφνης ἐπέστρεψεν ἐπὶ τοὺς κ[α]τὰ τὸ πε|δίον ἀτάκτ[ως ἐπ]ηκολούθουν. 5. ὁ δὲ Ξ[ε]-
Πέρσας. νοκλῆς, | ἐπειδὴ καιρ[ὸν ὑπ]έλαβεν εἶναι τοῖς πολεμίοις
ἐπι|χειρεῖν, ἀνα[στήσ]ας ἐκ τῆς ἐνέδρας τοὺς Πελοπον-|
νησίους ἔ{ω}θ[ει δρ]όμῳ· τῶν δὲ βαρβάρων ὡς εἶδον
γενομένης δὲ καρτερᾶς μάχης, καὶ τοῦ ἕ|καστοι προσθέ[ον]τας τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἔφευγον καθ’
συσσήμου τοῖς κατὰ τὴν ἐνέδραν οὖσιν ἅπαν | τὸ πεδίον. Ἀγ[ησίλ]αος δὲ κατιδὼν πεφοβημένους
ἀρθέντος, ἐκεῖνοι μὲν παιανίσαντες αὐ|τοὺς ἔπεμπεν ἀπὸ τοῦ στρατεύματος τούς τε κούφους | 190
ἐπεφέροντο τοῖς πολεμίοις, οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι [τ]ῶν στρατιωτῶν καὶ τοὺς ἱππέας διώξοντας ἐκείνους· |
θεωροῦντες αὑτοὺς ἀπολαμβανομένους εἰς οἱ δὲ μετὰ τῶν ἐκ τῆς ἐνέδρας ἀναστάντ⟨ων⟩ ἐνέκειντο |
μέσον κατεπλάγησαν καὶ παραχρῆμα τ⟨οῖς⟩ βαρβάρ⟨οις⟩. 6. ἐπακολουθήσα̣ν̣τε̣ ς δὲ τοῖς πολεμί-
ἔφευγον. 4. οἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Ἀγησίλαον μέχρι [ο]ις | οὐ λίαν πολὺ[ν] χρόνον, οὐ γὰρ [ἠδύ]ναντο κατα-
μέν τινος ἐπιδιώξαντες ἀνεῖλαν μὲν ὑπὲρ λαμβά|νειν {ε}αὐτοὺς ἅτε τ[ῶ]ν πολλῶν [ἱππ]έων ὄν-
τοὺς ἑξακισχιλίους, αἰχμαλώτων δὲ πολὺ των καὶ γυ|μνήτων, καταβάλλουσιν μὲν [αὐ]τῶν περὶ
πλῆθος ἤθροισαν, τὴν δὲ παρεμβολὴν ἑξακοσί|ους, ἀποστάντες δὲ τῆς διώ[ξεω]ς ἐβ[ά]δ[ι]ζον
διήρπασαν, γέμουσαν πολλῶν ἀγαθῶν. ἐπ’ αὐ|τὸ τὸ στρατόπεδον τὸ τῶν βα[ρβάρ]ων. [κα]ταλα-
βόν|τες δὲ φυλακὴν οὐ σπουδαί[ως κ]αθε[στῶ]σαν ταχέ-|
 diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 63

Diod. 14.80.2–5 P. Oxy. v 842, 11.4–12.4, ll. 176–232

ως αἱροῦσιν, κα[ὶ] λαμβάνουσιν [α]ὐτῶν [πολ]λὴν μὲν 200

ἀ|γοράν, συχνο[ὺς] δὲ ἀνθρώπο[υ]ς, πολλ[ὰ δὲ] σκεύη καὶ |
χρήματα ⟨τὰ⟩ μὲν [τῶ]ν ἄλλων τὰ δ[ὲ] Τισσαφέ[ρνους] αὐτοῦ.
12. 1. Γε|νομένης δὲ τ[ῆς] μάχης τοιαύ[τ]ης οἱ μὲ[ν
5. ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς μάχης Τισσαφέρνης μὲν εἰς βά]ρβαροι κα|ταπλαγέντες [τοὺς] Ἕλληνας ἀπεχώρησ[αν
Σάρδεις ἀπεχώρησε καταπεπληγμένος τὴν σὺν] τῷ Τισ|σαφέρνει πρὸς τὰς Σάρδεις· Ἀγησίλαος δὲ
τόλμαν τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων, Ἀγησίλαος δ’ περ[ιμε]ίνας αὐ|τοῦ τρεῖς ἡμέρας, ἐν αἷς τοὺς νεκροὺς
ἐπεχείρησε μὲν εἰς τὰς ἄνω σατραπείας, ἐν ὑποσπ[όν]δους ἀπέ|δωκεν τοῖς π[ο]λεμίοις καὶ τροπαῖον
δὲ τοῖς ἱεροῖς οὐ δυνάμενος καλλιερῆσαι πάλιν ἔστη[σε] καὶ τὴν | γῆν ἅπασαν ἐ[πόρθ]ησεν, προῆγεν τὸ
ἀπήγαγε τὴν δύναμιν ἐπὶ θάλατταν. στρ[άτε]υμα εἰς | Φρυγίαν πάλιν [τὴν] μεγάλην. 2. ἐποιεῖτο
δὲ [τ]ὴν πορείαν | οὐκέτι συντεταγμένους ἔχων ἐν τῷ 210
πλ[ι]νθίῳ τοὺς | στρατιώτας, ἀλλ’ ἐῶν αὐτοὺς ὅσην
ἠβούλοντο τῆς χώ|ρας ἐπιέναι καὶ κακῶς ποιε[ῖν τοὺς]
πολεμ[ί]ους. Τισσαφέρ|νης δὲ πυθόμενος τοὺς [Ἕλληνας
β]αδίζειν εἰς τὸ πρόσθε⟨ν⟩ | ἀναλαβὼν αὖθις τοὺς β̣[αρ-
βάρους ἐ]πη[κολο]ύθει ὄπισθεν | αὐτῶν πολλοὺς σταδίο[υς
διέχων. 3. Ἀγ]ησίλ[αος] δὲ διεξελθ[ὼν] | τὸ πε[δ]ίον τὸ
τῶν Λυδῶν [ἦγε τὴν στρ]ατιὰν [......] διὰ τῶ[ν] | ὀρῶν
τῶν διὰ μέσου κε[ιμένων τῆ]ς ̣ τ[ε Λυδίας] καὶ τῆς | Φρυγίας·
ἐπειδὴ δὲ διεπορ[εύθησαν ταῦτα, κατεβίβ]ασε | τοὺς
Ἕλληνας εἰς τὴν Φ[ρυγίαν, ἕως ἀφίκοντο πρὸς τ]ὸ̣ν̣ | 220
Μαίανδρον ποταμόν, ὃ̣[ς ἔχει μὲν τὰς πηγὰς ἀπὸ Κελαι-]|
νῶν, ἣ τῶν ἐν Φρυγίᾳ μεγίστη [πόλις ἐστίν, ἐκδίδωσι | δ’]
εἰς θάλατταν παρὰ Πριήνην κ̣ [αὶ ........ 4. καταστρα-]|
τοπεδεύσας δὲ τοὺς Πελοπ[οννησίους καὶ τοὺς | σ]υμμάχους
ἐθύετο πότ[ερ]α χ̣[ρὴ] δ̣[ι]α̣β̣[αίνειν τὸν ποτ]α̣|μὸν ἢ μή,
καὶ βαδίζειν ἐπὶ Κελα[ινὰς ἢ πάλιν το]ὺ̣ς | στρατιώτας
ἀπάγειν. ὡς δὲ συνέβ[αινεν αὐτῷ] μὴ | γίγνεσθαι καλὰ τὰ
ἱερά, περιμε[ί]να[ς ἐκεῖ τήν τ]ε ἡμέ|ραν ἣν παρεγένετο καὶ
τὴν ἐπιο[ῦσαν ἀπῆγ]εν τὸν || [στρατὸν .............
Ἀγησί]λαος μὲν οὖ[ν ... | ........... τὸ πεδίον τὸ 230
Μαιάν]δρου καλούμενο[ν] | δ̣[ .....................
. . . . ] . νέμονται Λυδ[οὶ] | κ̣ [αὶ .................... 19

19 The translations of both Diodorus’ passages and P. Oxy. v 842, 11.4–12.4 are in the Appendix.
64 chapter 4

Both authors share certain terms like ἀτάκτ[ως ἐπ]ηκολούθουν (11.4, l. 184)
and προσπίπτοντες ἀτάκτως (Diod. 14.80.3), or Τισσαφέρνης μὲν εἰς Σάρδεις ἀπε-
χώρησε (Diod. 14.80.5) and ἀπεχώρησ[αν σὺν] τῷ Τισ|σαφέρνει πρὸς τὰς Σάρδεις
(12.1, ll. 204–205); and they also portray in a similar way the battle formation
adopted by the Greek army against Tissaphernes’ troops: a frontal attack was
carried out by Agesilaus’ rearguard and a lateral attack was launched in the
form of ambuscades coordinated under the command of Xenocles. Neverthe-
less, for Diodorus, it was Agesilaus himself who gave the signal for Xenocles
to attack (14.80.3), while for the Oxyrhynchus historian, Xenocles decided to
attack at the opportune moment (11.5, ll. 184–187); for Diodorus the battle was
a καρτερὰ μάχη and the fallen barbarians numbered 6000 (14.80.3–4), while for
the Oxyrhynchus historian it was just a skirmish of light-armed troops and cav-
alry and the victims were 600 (11.6).
Admittedly, the numbers given by Diodorus could be explained with mis-
takes that might have occurred during transmission in the manuscript tra-
dition. Despite that, however, Diodorus, in abbreviating the account of the
Oxyrhynchus historian, might have condensed different events belonging to
different temporal levels, so that the chronological order of the events we find
in the ho’s text appears unclear and defective in his narrative (14.80.1–5). In
fact, in Diodorus we read that Agesilaus disposed his army in square forma-
tion in the foothills of Mount Sipylus so as to attack the Persian army led by
Tissaphernes; soon afterwards—continues the historian—he started a pillag-
ing march as far as Sardis (ἐπελθὼν δέ) and, μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα, while returning from
Sardis, led Xenocles’ ambush (14.80.1–2):

1. After this Agesilaus led forth his army into the plain of Cayster and the
country around Sipylus and ravaged the possessions of the inhabitants.
Tissaphernes, gathering ten thousand cavalry and fifty thousand infantry,
followed close on the Lacedaemonians and cut down any who became
separated from the main body while plundering. Agesilaus formed his
soldiers in a square and clung to the foothills of Mt. Sipylus, awaiting a
favourable opportunity to attack the enemy. 2. He overran the countryside
as far as Sardis and ravaged the orchards and the pleasure-park belonging
to Tissaphernes, which had been artistically laid out at great expense with
plants and all other things that contribute to luxury and the enjoyment
in peace of the good things of life. He then turned back, and when he
was midway between Sardis and Thybarnae, he dispatched by night the
Spartan Xenocles with fourteen hundred soldiers to a thickly wooded
place to set an ambush for the barbarians.20

20 Ἀγησίλαος δὲ εἰς πλινθίον συντάξας τοὺς στρατιώτας ἀντείχετο τῆς παρὰ τὸν Σίπυλον παρωρείας,
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 65

Other properly Diodorean contributions can be identified as well. One of

these is his reading of the battle of Sardis as the result of the daring behaviour
(of even over-boldness?) of the Spartans, ἀπὸ δὲ τῆς μάχης Τισσαφέρνης μὲν
εἰς Σάρδεις ἀπεχώρησε καταπεπληγμένος τὴν τόλμαν τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων (‘Tissa-
phernes, thunderstruck at the daring of the Lacedaemonians, withdrew from
the battle to Sardis,’ 14.80.5). Another Diodorean contribution is shown by the
stereotyped description of the battle, which is, moreover, in line with similar
descriptions found throughout the Bibliotheke.21
As can be noticed, the quite neutral assertion of the Oxyrhynchus historian,
according to which the barbarians were struck with panic because of the
Greeks (οἱ μὲ[ν βά]ρβαροι κα|ταπλαγέντες [τοὺς] Ἕλληνας, ll. 203–204), is found
in Diodorus with a different nuance. In Diodorus the flight of the Persians—
οἱ δὲ Πέρσαι θεωροῦντες αὑτοὺς ἀπολαμβανομένους εἰς μέσον κατεπλάγησαν καὶ
παραχρῆμα ἔφευγον (‘the Persians, seeing that they were caught between the
forces, were struck with dismay and turned at once in flight,’ 14.80.3)—soon
after is explained through Tissaphernes’ perspective, according to which that
result was due to the boldness of the Spartans (14.80.5). In accordance with the
Diodorean pattern of the rise and fall of empires, this campaign in Diodorus’
view might indeed be near the starting-point of Sparta’s daring ascent. These
observations carry a certain degree of plausibility especially because there
are clear indications here of Diodorus’ individual prose style. The participle
θεωροῦντες followed by an object and its related predicative participle recurs
many times throughout the Bibliotheke,22 and it is also found several times
with reference to observers of enemies who are in a particular state or are
performing military manoeuvres.23 Thus, the synthetic expression describing
how the Persians flee in terror after seeing the enemy (14.80.3) looks like a
narrative cliché that reduces to a brief resume the detailed account given by
the Oxyrhynchus historian (11.5–6).

ἐπιτηρῶν καιρὸν εὔθετον εἰς τὴν τῶν πολεμίων ἐπίθεσιν. 2. ἐπελθὼν δὲ τὴν χώραν μέχρι Σάρδεων
ἔφθειρε τούς τε κήπους καὶ τὸν παράδεισον τὸν Τισσαφέρνους, φυτοῖς καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις πολυτελῶς
πεφιλοτεχνημένον εἰς τρυφὴν καὶ τὴν ἐν εἰρήνῃ τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἀπόλαυσιν. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτ’ ἐπιστρέ-
ψας, ὡς ἀνὰ μέσον ἐγενήθη τῶν τε Σάρδεων καὶ Θυβάρνων, ἀπέστειλε Ξενοκλέα τὸν Σπαρτιάτην
μετὰ χιλίων καὶ τετρακοσίων στρατιωτῶν νυκτὸς εἴς τινα δασὺν τόπον, ὅπως ἐνεδρεύσῃ τοὺς βαρ-
βάρους.
21 Stylianou (1998): 15–17.
22 1.3.1; 4.57.4; 11.13.4; 11.14.1; 11.15.2; 13.14.3; 13.45.10; 13.52.8; 13.74.3; 13.78.3; 13.85.5; 13.108.9; 14.5.4;
14.32.6; 14.51.5; 14.80.3; 15.31.4; 18.21.4; 20.8.5; 20.31.2; 22.9.5; 33.21.1. Cf. Hornblower (1981):
271.
23 11.10.4; 13.6.6; 13.16.4; 13.39.3; 13.72.6; 14.102.1; 15.87.1; 20.85.4.
66 chapter 4

Moreover, the phrase in the ho γε|νομένης δὲ τ[ῆς] μάχης τοιαύ[τ]ης (l. 203)
becomes in Diodorus γενομένης δὲ καρτερᾶς μάχης (14.80.3). Land or naval bat-
tles and sieges are related with little variations and they are frequently de-
scribed in the Bibliotheke as ἰσχυραί or κρατεραί. One interesting study on
Hieronymus of Cardia—which deals in part with the Diodorean phraseology
of books 18–20—has, moreover, shown that expressions such as γενομένης …
μάχης … ἰσχυρᾶς are indeed stylistic features of Diodorus’ own prose. Besides,
καρτερὰ (κρατερὰ) μάχη is not attested in the Oxyrhynchus historian, and, con-
trary to what Jacoby suggested,24 it is not likely to be an Ephorean expression,
as it is not found within the fragments from the Histories, and it also appears in
several books of the Bibliotheke that are not usually ascribed to Ephorus (11–
16).25 Diodorus’ formulaic language facilitated his didactic purposes—it did
not matter then if battles or individuals came out in a quite stereotyped and
standardised way—so that his narrative clichés appear to have been applied
mechanically almost everywhere, and sometimes they are even inappropri-
ate to the context he has just described.26 History is for Diodorus a teacher
and adviser who bases his assertions on examples from the past. As Diodorus
explains in the general proem to the work, ‘it is good to be able to use the mis-
takes of others as examples to set things right’ and ‘[it is good] to be able to imi-
tate the successes of the past’ (1.4). Elsewhere in book 1 he justifies his inclusion
of certain material because it is ‘most able to help’ his audience through histor-
ical examples (69.2). In this view formulaic language—which is more suited
to epics than to history—plays its own important part, as the more recurrent a
phenomenon is, the more likely it is to reappear in the reader’s own experience
or memory and stimulate the application of the lessons that the narrative aims
to teach.
Diodorus27 does not describe Agesilaus’ follow-up to his victory outside
Sardis, as described at chapter 12.1–2 of the ho, where it is said that Agesilaus
goes on a pillaging march as far as the river Maeander, followed at a distance
by Tissaphernes’ army. According to Diodorus, Agesilaus would instead be
directing his army towards the northern satrapies and to the sea (14.80.5). Now,
the version of Diodorus might be merely a quick resume that omits the whole
account of Agesilaus’ march towards the region of Great Phrygia, as mentioned

24 FGrHist ii c 12, followed by Bruce (1967): 151. Differently Stylianou (1998): 15.
25 Cf. 11.7.1; 11.12.6; 11.32.2; 12.6.2; 13.64.1; 15.3.6; 16.86.2; 18.4.3; 18.44.4; 19.83.4; 19.89.2; 20.87.3;
20.89.2.
26 Hornblower (1981): 272. Cf. Palm (1955): 194–208.
27 Xenophon, too, gives a description of Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign and he does not hint at
the aftermath to the battle of Sardis (Hell. 3.4.1–29) either.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 67

in chapter 12.1–4 of the ho; he synthesises it with the phrase ἐν δὲ τοῖς ἱεροῖς οὐ
δυνάμενος καλλιερῆσαι πάλιν ἀπήγαγε τὴν δύναμιν ἐπὶ θάλατταν (‘but led his army
back to the sea when he could not obtain favourable omens from the sacrifices,’
14.80.5)—whereas in the original we find ὡς δὲ συνέβ[αινεν αὐτῷ] μὴ | γίγνεσθαι
καλὰ τὰ ἱερά (‘since it happened that the sacrifices were not auspicious,’ ll. 227–
228). The verb καλλιερέω with the meaning of ‘to have favourable signs in a
sacrifice’ goes back a long way to Herodotus as well as to Xenophon,28 and it
is used only once by Diodorus, here, in a context of sacrifice before battle;29
elsewhere in his narrative he also gives two further examples of sacrifices
before battles,30 but there the words used with reference to the sacrifices are
respectively θῦμα and σφαγιάζομαι (13.97.4 and 15.85.1). We could infer that in
the case in question (14.80.5) Diodorus is not using one of those clichés that
normally spring to his mind.
From the comparison made thus far it is clear that Diodorus used his own
‘code’ words31 and his own way of abbreviating the sources on which he relied.
Thus, he shows also a certain independence from his sources, whatever the
reliability of the historical reconstruction and reproduction that resulted.
There remains another aspect that needs to be pointed out, partly related
to this issue. Palm’s analysis of Diodorus’ Book 3 and Photius’ epitome of Aga-
tharchides’ work reveals the general tendency of Diodorus to clarify and expand
the language of his original.32 That makes Diodorus’ account rather longer
than the original, and very much weaker in impact.33 We should ask ourselves,
however, how responsible Photius’ own style is for that Agatharchidean evi-
dence; nevertheless, a similar tendency to expand the original language has
been found also within the twentieth book of Diodorus’ Bibliotheke, for which
we do have the original source, a second-century papyrus that epitomises a Hel-
lenistic historian (P. Berl. 11632).34 If we return to the relation between Diodorus
and the ho, it is evident that Diodorus does not expand the language of his
source in that way, but the final shape of his narrative does in any case become
quite different from the original.

28 Cf. Hdt. 6.82; 7.113; Xen. An. 5.4.22.

29 Cf. other uses of the verb καλλιερέω in sacrificial contexts: 1.70.9; 4.24.4; 4.27.3; 8.32.2;
14.80.5; 31.11.1.
30 Pritchett (1971): 109–126.
31 Cf. Hornblower (1981): 278.
32 One good example could be Agatharchides’ ὑπνοῦσι that becomes in Diodorus ποιεῖται τὴν
διὰ τῶν ὕπνων ἀνάπαυσιν. Hornblower (1981): 274.
33 Palm (1955): 68–69.
34 Hornblower (1981): 274–277.
68 chapter 4

4.2 Diodorus’ Thirteenth Book and the Florence Papyrus

The discussion up to this point has shown how difficult it is to deal with
Diodorus and his sources, especially if we try to read and appreciate the au-
thor’s own particular moral view of history. This shift in reading Diodorus in
his own right was already felt as a necessity in the 1980s by Krentz, who, by
comparing the version of the naval battle of Notion (407/406 bc)35 found in
the Florence papyrus with the parallel account given by Diodorus’ thirteenth
book, identified two examples where Diodorus added thematic material of
some sort. At 13.71.2 the historian states that the Athenian navarch Antiochus—
though he had been warned about sailing against Lysander by Alcibiades—
launched an ambush against Lysander in the waters of Notion, ὢν τῇ φύσει
πρόχειρος, καὶ σπεύδων δι’ ἑαυτοῦ τι πρᾶξαι λαμπρόν. This assertion has no parallel
in the ho. Lysander, for his part (so Diodorus continues), knew that Alcibiades
was operating at Clazomenae, καιρὸν εἶναι διέλαβε πρᾶξαί τι τῆς Σπάρτης ἄξιον
(13.71.3): that again has no parallel.36 This last assertion is interesting because
it puts stress upon Spartan dynamism, that dynamism that Diodorus instructs
us will cause disaffection among Sparta’s allies. Both examples of behaviour,
that of Antiochus and that of Lysander, are moulded in parallel so as to show
an equal level of personal ambition and achievement. That we are very close
to Diodorus’ own way of re-adaptating his source/s is clearly shown by the
Diodorean periphrasis that usually recurs in character descriptions, that is the
participial form of the verb εἰμί accompanied by the standard noun form φύσει
(13.71.2).37
It has been suggested that the Diodorean account of the battle of Notion
might be the result of Ephorus’ blending of Xenophon’s account with that of
the Oxyrhynchus historian,38 or else due to the fact that the ho was based on a
primary source while Xenophon resorted to a secondary source—which might
explain the divergences between the two traditions (Diodorean and Xenophon-
tic).39 In whatever way we see the matter, it is very hard to assume that the
Oxyrhynchus historian dealt in detail with the more active role played by both

35 On the chronology for this battle see Ambaglio (2008): 125.

36 Cf. psi xiii 1304, 4.1–2. Krentz (1982): 139. Diodorus seems to add his own explanations
also when he refers to the Athenian campaign against Megara. At 13.65.2 he clarifies why
the Athenians pursued the Megarians rather than the Spartans, that is, because they were
angered by the Megarians’ seizure of Nisaea (cf. psi xiii 1304, 1.1).
37 Cf. for example 2.7.2. Hornblower (1981): 277.
38 Andrewes (1982): 15–25.
39 Bleckmann (1998): 162–180.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 69

Antiochus and Lysander40 as we see developed in later traditions, where the

former is characterised mostly by his rashness and the latter by his provocative
behaviour (Plut. Alc. 35.5–6;41 Paus. 9.32.6). This moralistic characterisation
would be at odds with the Oxyrhynchus historian’s way of narrating events
involving people, and it seems rather to be characteristic of Diodorus’ man-
ner: think, for instance, of similar cases where two personages, for some reason
related to each other, are suggestively juxtaposed by Diodorus.42
As with the previous case (Diodorus’ account of the battle of Sardis), here
too the comparison between Diodorus and the ho’s text does not demonstrate
any simple or straightforward copying of the ho by Diodorus. In the case of
the battle of Notion, however, we cannot say much about eventual linguistical
reshapings of the model on Diodorus’ part, especially since some lines of the
papyrus’ text, unhappily defective as it is, have been supplemented by scholars
through Diodorus’ text itself.43
In Diodorus’ account of the battle of Notion an aporia has been noticed in
regard to Antiochus’ ships. Diodorus says that Antiochus had ten ships manned
while ordering the trierarchs to prepare others; the others are presumably the
ships (the rest of the fleet) that stayed behind, at Notion (13.71.2). But this
has been found hard to believe, for in all versions of the battle (psi xiii 1304,
4.3; Xen. Hell. 1.5.12–15) including Diodorus’ own, these ships are found to be
totally unprepared when they were needed in the final stage.44 In the papyrus,
the supplement that specifies the number of ten ships is owed to the same
Diodorean passage (13.71.2), but that seems confirmed by the papyrus’ refer-
ence to δεκαναΐα[ν] some lines below (l. 2 p. 4). Following Bartoletti’s edition,

40 So Bleckmann (1998): 173–174. Cf. Andrewes (1982): 17–18.

41 In the tradition followed by Plutarch, Antiochus enters the harbour of Ephesus with
two ships, as in Xenophon 1.5.12, but his behaviour is characterised by intemperance: he
went past the prows of Lysander ships πολλὰ καὶ πράττων καὶ φθεγγόμενος ἀκόλαστα καὶ
βωμολόχα (Alc. 35.5; cf. Lys. 5.1). It has been suggested that such a moralistic description
might go back to Theopompus, whom I do not believe is the author of the ho. We can
notice that in the fragment 236 the historian speaks of Philip ii in a similar way: ὢν γὰρ
φιλοπότης καὶ τὸν τρόπον ἀκόλαστος καὶ βωμολόχους εἶχε περὶ αὑτὸν συχνοὺς καὶ τῶν περὶ
τὴν μουσικὴν ὄντων καὶ τῶν τὰ γέλοια λεγόντων. Cf. Andrewes (1982): 18. Mossé (2001): 191
explains some divergences between Xenophon and Plutarch by suggesting that Plutarch
used the ho.
42 See, for instance, 14.3.6–7 on Lysander and Theramenes and 12.38.3–39 on Alcibiades and
Pericles.
43 Scholars tend to supplement the text of the ho by using that of Diodorus. See Andrewes
(1982): 15–25.
44 Bonamente (1973): 45–50 and Andrewes (1982): 16.
 70 chapter 4

we read: τρ[ιήρεις δέκα τὰς ἄριστα] | πλεούσας, τὰς μὲν ἑτ̣[έρας ἐκέλευσε ναυ]|
λοχεῖν (ll. 9–10 p. 3). We would thus find here the aporia of ships (ἑτ̣[έρας)
that lay in wait presumably in the proximity of the harbour, but which were
unequipped at the time of the final clash, as we see later in the papyrus (psi xiii
1304, 4.3).45
To overcome this difficulty Bonamente suggested a different supplement for
the papyrus, according to which Antiochus would order the equipment for ten
ships in total, and he would sail against Lysander with two of those:

Bartoletti psi xiii 1304, 4.1, ll. 7–12, p. 3 Bonamente’s proposal

4 _]νησιω̣ [. ὥ]σπερ ε̣ιώ̣̓ ̣ [θει . . .. . . . . . . . . . ]|ρας . . νησιω [. ὥ]σπερ εἰώ[θει ..............]

ἐκπ̣ [έ]μ̣ πειν ν[αῦς . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ] | αὐτάς, πληρώσας . ρας ἐκπ[έ]μπειν ν[αῦς ...............]
τρ[ιήρεις δέκα τὰς ἄριστα] | πλεούσας, τὰς μὲν ἑτ̣[έρας . αὐτάς, πληρώσας τρ[ιήρεις δέκα τὰς ἄριστα]
ἐκέλευσε ναυ]|λοχεῖν ἕως ἂν ἀπάρω[σιν αἱ τῶν πολε- . πλεούσας, τὰς μὲν ἑτ[έρας ἐκέλευσε ναυ]
μί]|ων πόρρω τῆς γῆς, [αὐτὸς δὲ ταῖς δέκα προ]|έπλει πρὸς . λοχεῖν ἕως ἂν ἀπάρω[σιν αἱ τῶν πολεμί]
τὴν Ἔφεσ[ον omit46 . ων πόρρω τῆς γῆς, [αὐτὸς δὲ καὶ ἑτέρᾳ προ]
. έπλει πρὸς τὴν Ἔφεσ[ον omit

In so doing the scholar manages to reconcile Xenophon’s version (according

to which Antiochus sailed with two ships)47 with those given by the papyrus
and by Diodorus. In fact Bonamente’s supplement is made on the basis of
Xenophon’s own account (1.5.12). The expression τὰς μὲν ἑτ̣[έρας would refer
thus to the eight48 ships that stayed near the harbour, after Antiochus departed
with two of them, while presumably the Athenian reinforcement (the rest of
the fleet), as we read some lines later (psi xiii 1304 4.3), remained definitively
unprepared.
Stylistically, Bonamente’s supplement would read well, since a parallelism
of that sort τὰς μὲν ἑτ̣[έρας … αὐτὸς δέ (while the others were in the harbour

45 I published part of the discussion of this section in zpe 187 (2013 b), 72–76.
46 In this section I follow Bartoletti’s edition. Omissions are mine.
47 Bonamente assumes that for Xenophon, too, Antiochus’ contingent was made of more
than two ships, since we read that at first some Athenians helped Antiochus with more
triremes, and later the Athenians from Notion went to help with the whole fleet (Hell.
1.5.13). Bonamente, (1973): 44.
48 If one accepts Maas’ supplement [σὺν μᾷ νηῒ προ]|έπλει, the ships would be nine.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 71

… he was sailing with two of them) fits the Oxyrhynchus historian’s prose
style.49 In the previous sentence it is said that Antiochus manned his ships,
and in this it is clarified how they were employed. And this reading would
also suggest that Antiochus’ plan was not particularly hazardous in the way
that Diodorus’ text implies: it was limited to drawing into ambush only a
few Spartan ships. That reinforces, moreover, the idea that the judgements
on the two leaders (Antiochus and Lysander, 13.71.2–3) are indeed Diodorus’
additions, as he tends to characterise leaders and their actions in moralistic
terms.
Nevertheless, Bonamente’s supplement is slightly problematic, especially for
the second ἑτέρᾳ, which performs a sort of double duty by contrasting with
ἑτ̣[έρας and also with the ‘first’ ship that we assume Antiochus is sailing him-
self. Moreover, I wonder whether also the indefinite ἑτ̣[έρας, expressing here
the idea of vagueness, is problematic as well, and if, to validate Bonamente’s
proposal, we should rather expect the relative pronoun to be in the genitive
plural before ἑτ̣[έρας, similarly to what we read in a passage of the ho itself:
Φοινίκων | [καὶ Κιλίκων ἧκον ἐνενήκοντ]α νῆες εἰς Καῦνον, ὧν | [δέκα μὲν ἔπλευ-
σαν ἀπὸ Κιλι]κίας (London papyrus 9.2, ll. 13–14, p. 10); or, better, we should
expect αὐτῶν τινας, perhaps. In addition, the form ἑτ̣[έρας seems rather to indi-
cate ‘other,’ ‘a few’ in comparison with something like ‘the most part of.’ For
the pronoun ἕτερος must be correlated with a first term of comparison (cf. lat.
alter). This is all the more so if we consider the use of ἕτερος as the second
term of a parallelism that appears in the prose of the Cairo papyrus (col. i, ll. 1–
5):

[.].ς προσβαλεῖν τοῖς τ̣ε[̣ ίχεσι ..... ... τὰς]

[π]λ̣ είστας τῶν τριήρω[ν ..... ... .. τὰς]
[δ’] ἑτ̣ έρας τόπον τῆς Ἐφε[σίας ..... .....]
[ἐκ]β̣ι ̣[βά]σας δὲ πᾶσαν τὴν [δύναμιν ..... .]
[..]ν ἐπὶ τῆς πόλεως. Ἐφέσιοι [δὲ ... τῶν Λα-]

A careful examination of the image of the Florence papyrus shows unexpected

clues that invalidate both Bartoletti’s and Bonamente’s supplements. It is, in
fact, possible to infer that (a) the ε of ἑτ̣[έρας can be read perfectly, but (b) the
τ cannot follow the ε, because after the ε there is a trace of a letter, an almost
vertical stroke that does not go below the lower line in the way that the τ usually
does. Therefore, (c) the only letters that can fit this trace might be ν, μ, π, κ

49 Cf. Bauer (1913): 1–66.

72 chapter 4

or ι.50 For all these reasons I would suggest a different supplement for lines 9–12
of the Florence papyrus:

τρ[ιήρεις δέκα τὰς ἄριστα] | πλεούσας, τὰς μὲν ἐν̣[νέα

προσέταξε ναυ]|λοχεῖν ἕως ἂν ἀπάρω[σιν αἱ τῶν πολε-
μί]|ων πόρρω τῆς γῆς, [αὐτὸς δὲ μίαν ἔχων51 προ]|έπλει πρὸς
τὴν Ἔφεσ[ον ..............] προσαξόμενος αὐτάς.

To confirm this reading—that is, that Antiochus’ operations did not provide
for manning the whole fleet at the same time—there is the statement made
later in the papyrus’ text, according to which the Athenians after Lysander’s
counteroffensive turned back in fright and fled, since they did not intend to
give battle in force: Ἀθηναίων φ̣[οβηθέντες οἱ συμπλέον]|τες εὐθέως πρὸς τἄ[μπαλιν
ἐτράπησαν οὐ] | προνοούμενοι τ[ὸ να]υμα[χῆσαι κατὰ κρά]τος (4.2, ll. 16–18, p. 3).52
According to this new supplement, the number of ships would change, and
instead of the two mentioned by both Diodorus and Xenophon we would have
only one. Now, one might object that in the papyrus there follows the statement
that when Lysander saw them (α[ὐ]τούς) he launched three ships against the
enemy; thus that reference to α[ὐ]τούς might be understood as meaning ‘a
plurality of men with their ships’ (4.2, ll. 13–14, p. 3). Nevertheless, it is possible
that Lysander saw the manoeuvres near the harbour of Notion (the nine ships)
as well as the ship of Antiochus sailing to Ephesus. For the two harbours are
after all very close. Furthermore, the Oxyrhynchus historian differs both from
Xenophon and from Diodorus in regard to another aspect, namely in speaking
of the sinking of Antiochus’ ship before the arrival of the whole Athenian fleet
and the final encounter (4.2, l. 15, p. 3). Xenophon does not report Antiochus’s
death at all, while Diodorus, along with Plutarch, dates Antiochus’ death to the
final clash.53

50 For this reason also the supplement suggested by Luppe (1996–1997): 41–45 is to be
rejected: πλεούσας, τὰς μὲν ἑτ̣[έρας ἐκέλευσε ναυ]|λοχεῖν ἕως ἂν ἀπάρω̣ [σιν αἱ τῶν πολεμί]|ων
πόρρω τῆς γῆς [, αὐτὸς δὲ μιᾷ νηὶ προ]|έπλει πρὸς τὴν Ἔφεσ̣ [ον omit.
51 The expression δὲ μίαν ἔχων is attested in Cyrillus; Pusey (Oxford, 1872): 328, ll. 12–13. I
prefer this form to Maas’ supplement [σὺν μιᾷ νηῒ προ]έπλει.
52 Cf. the supplement by Gigante (1949): 7: εὐθέως πρὸς τὰ[ς ἀφορμὰς …….]| προνοούμενοι
τ[ὸ να]υμα[χῆσαι κατὰ κρά]|τος. Even though that supplement suggests a different view
from that of Bartoletti, it nevertheless leads us to assume that no preventive prepara-
tions had been made for the Athenian fleet before this moment. Cf. Bonamente (1973):
41.
53 Diod. 13.71.3; Plut. Alc. 35.6. Bonamente (1973): 50–56.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 73

The divergences between Xenophon on the one hand and Diodorus and the
papyrus on the other in regard to the number of ships that the Athenians lost
(22 according to the papyrus and Diodorus, and 15 according to Xenophon)
were explained long ago in the following way: Xenophon would be going back
to a Spartan tradition, that is information coming from Lysander’s side, while
the Oxyrhynchus historian, and with him Diodorus, would reflect an Athenian
tradition.54
As regards the place in which the Athenian survivors took refuge in the
immediate aftermath, the papyrus’ text relates that the Spartans blocked the
Athenian ships at Notion (4.3), and Diodorus seems to confirm this by asserting
that, after learning what happened, Alcibiades went quickly to Notion and then
sailed to Samos (13.71.4). Xenophon states that after the battle the Athenians
fled to Samos, and this has been read by scholars as a matter of simplifica-
tion: Xenophon would pass over the intermediate stage of Notion. The whole
Xenophontic account of the battle of Notion would be, moreover, explained as
due to ‘il procedere compendiario della sua [of Xen.] narrazione.’ Consequently,
the so-called ‘Eforo-Diodoro’ tradition was regarded as preferable (because
more detailed) to that of Xenophon.55
Nevertheless, we should perhaps raise the question whether or not Diodorus
was using the text of ho directly. He does agree with the Oxyrhynchus historian
that Antiochus was in charge of ten ships (δέκα δὲ ναῦς τὰς ἀρίστας πληρώσας,
Diod. 13.71.2 and πληρώσας τρ[ιήρεις δέκα τὰς ἄριστα] | πλεούσας,56 4.1, ll. 8–
9, p. 3),57 that the Athenian reinforcement faced the enemy in confusion (ἐν
οὐδεμιᾷ τάξει, and διὰ τὴν ἀταξίαν, Diod. 13.71.3–4; καὶ δι’ ἀταξίαν, 4.3, ll. 8–9,
p. 4) and that in the end the Athenians lost twenty-two ships in battle (Diod.
13.71.4 and 4.3, ll. 11–12, p. 4).58 The two authors diverge, however, over some
factual developments: for Diodorus the Athenians sent their reinforcements

54 De Sanctis (1931): 228.

55 Bonamente (1973): 53–56. Before the discovery of the Florence papyrus, scholars preferred
the version of the battle of Notion found in Xenophon’s text in comparison with that given
by Diodorus; but after its discovery they considered Diodorus’ narrative as trustworthy; see
De Sanctis (1931): 222–229, Accame (1938): 347–451. And still today some maintain that
Diodorus’ descriptions of naval battles throughout book 13 are preferable to the parallel
accounts given by Xenophon on the assumption that Diodorus would rely ultimately upon
the ho. Parmeggiani (2011): 474, note 363.
56 As we have seen, the supplement is due to Diod. 13.71.2.
57 According to Xenophon, Antiochus cruised past Lysander’s fleet with two ships (Hell.
1.5.12).
58 For Xenophon, the Athenians lost fifteen ships (Hell. 1.5.14).
74 chapter 4

(the whole fleet) after manning their triremes (μέχρις οὗ τὰς ἄλλας πληρώσαντες
οἱ τριήραρχοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων παρεβοήθησαν ἐν οὐδεμιᾷ τάξει, 13.71.3), while for
the Oxyrhynchus historian they could not get the ships manned before the
enemy arrived (ἐπικειμένων δὲ τῶν ἐν[αντίων ἤδη διὰ] | ταχέων πάσας μὲν οὐκ
ἠ[δύναντο τὰς] | τριήρεις φθῆναι π[λ]ηρώ[σαντες, 4.3, ll. 3–5, p. 4). Furthermore,
according to Diodorus, Lysander launched his whole fleet at once and the battle
is described as a massive encounter between the two forces (πάσαις ταῖς ναυσὶν
ἀνταναχθεὶς, Diod. 13.71.3), while for the Oxyrhynchus historian the reaction of
Lysander is articulated in two distinct phases: at first he launched three ships
(Λύσανδρος δὲ κατι]|δὼν α[ὐ]τοὺς τρεῖς να̣[ῦς εὐθὺς καθεῖλκεν, 4.2, ll. 13–14, p. 3)
and later he took all his triremes and pursued the enemy, ἀ[ν]αλαβ[ὼν πάσας
τὰς τρι]|ήρεις, 4.2, ll. 19, p. 3.59 In this latter case the papyrus seems closer to
Xenophon’s narrative than to that of Diodorus. Similarly, in fact, Xenophon
says that Lysander at first launched a few ships, then the whole fleet when he
saw the Athenian reinforcement coming (Hell. 1.5.12–13). In Diodorus, however,
almost all battles are depicted as massive; furthermore, Diodorus’ tendency to
reduce and summarise the narrative can explain the description of Lysander’s
assault in that simplified manner (13.71.3).
Slight factual divergences do not necessarily need to be explained in terms
of different underlying traditions. Or, at least, not always. I would suggest then
that Diodorus is attempting to re-adapt his source material—I believe he used
the ho directly—in an attractive way for his audience, and in a way that con-
veys clear moral examples. He represents the event as a decisive historical
happening involving two leaders, Antiochus and Lysander, who are seen and
portrayed as the main protagonists of the episode and characterised by their
moral qualities. Lysander is here the expression of that form of unusual and
improper (if compared with the policy of his ancestors)60 Spartan individu-
alism and dynamism that will later characterise the political choices of Age-
silaus, that drastikos and philopolemos king—as he is defined by Diodorus.61
Antiochus, with his incautious and provocative behaviour, is in line with the
stereotyped view of the Athenians, seen as a daring people, that goes back a
long way, to Thucydides himself.62

59 Cf. Plut. Alc. 35.6. Cf. Bonamente (1973): 35–56.

60 Diod. 15.1.1–5.
61 Diod. 15.19.4.
62 1.70, 2–5; 8–9. See Rood (2004 a): 341–395. See below, ch. 5.1.
 diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 75

4.3 Diodorus, the Cairo Papyrus and Xenophon

To throw further light on the relation between Diodorus, the ho and Xenophon,
let us turn now to the account of the attempts made by the Athenians under
Thrasyllus to take Ephesus by assault in 409 bc.63 Despite what was presumably
a quite extensive account within the ho’s narrative, partially preserved through
the so-called Cairo papyrus, and the evidence of clear points of contact with
Xenophon’s Hellenica (1.2.6–9), Diodorus gives us only a short summary of that
event (13.64.1). In so doing he confirms that this is one of the typical techniques
he uses in managing his sources.
The Cairo papyrus consists of four fragments whose text is laid out in three
columns and 82 lines, but it is preserved in such a damaged state that only two
small portions can be read in a way that makes continuous sense. The author
is working on the same facts as Xenophon had:

P. Cairo temp. inv. no. 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1, coll. i–ii Xen. Hell. 1.2.6–9

fr. 1 Col i

1 [ . ] . ς προσβαλεῖν τοῖς τ̣ε[̣ ίχεσι . . . .. . . . τὰς] 6. Θράσυλλος δὲ μετὰ ταῦτα ἀπήγαγεν ἐπὶ
[π]λ̣ είστας τῶν τριήρω[ν . . . . . . . . . . τὰς] θάλατταν τὴν στρατιάν, ὡς εἰς Ἔφεσον
[δ’] ἑτ̣ έρας τόπον τῆς Ἐφε[σίας . . . . . . .. . . ] πλευσούμενος. Τισσαφέρνης δὲ αἰσθόμενος τοῦτο
4 [ἐκ]β̣ι ̣[βά]σας δὲ πᾶσαν τὴν [δύναμιν . . . . . . ] τὸ ἐπιχείρημα, στρατιάν τε συνέλεγε πολλὴν καὶ
[ . . ]ν ἐπὶ τῆς πόλεως. Ἐφέσιοι [δὲ . . . τῶν Λα-] ἱππέας ἀπέστελλε παραγγέλλων πᾶσιν εἰς
[κε]δαιμονίων αὐτοῖς . . . . [ . . . . . . τοὺς] Ἔφεσον βοηθεῖν τῇ Ἀρτέμιδι.
[μὲ]ν̣ μ̣ ετ̣ ὰ̣ τοῦ Πασίωνος τῶν Ἀθηναίων 7. Θράσυλλος δὲ ἑβδόμῃ καὶ δεκάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ μετὰ
8 [οὐχ] ἑώρων—ἔτυχον γὰρ ὄντες ἔτι πόρρω καὶ τὴν εἰσβολὴν εἰς Ἔφεσον ἀπέπλευσε, καὶ τοὺς
[μα]κροτέραν ὁδὸν τῶν ἑτέρων βαδίζοντες— μὲν ὁπλίτας πρὸς τὸν Κορησσὸν ἀποβιβάσας, τοὺς
[τοὺ]ς δὲ πρεὶ τὸν Θράσυλλον ὁρῶντ[ε]ς ̣ ὅ̣σ̣ο̣ν δὲ ἱππέας καὶ πελταστὰς καὶ ἐπιβάτας καὶ τοὺς
[οὔ]π̣ ω παρόντας ἀπήντω̣ ν̣ αὐτοῖς πρὸς ἄλλους πάντας πρὸς τὸ ἕλος ἐπὶ τὰ ἕτερα τῆς
12 [τὸ]ν λιμένα τὸν Κορησσὸν καλούμενον πόλεως, ἅμα τῇ ἡμέρᾳ προσῆγε δύο στρατόπεδα.
[ἔχο]ν̣τε̣ς ̣ συμμάχους τοὺς ̣ τ̣ε̣ βο̣ηθήσαντας 8. οἱ δ’ ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἐβοήθησαν †σφίσιν† οἵ τε
[ . . . . ] . . π̣ [ . ] . . . [. ]ο̣ν̣ καὶ πιστ̣ο̣τα̣ ̣́το[υ]ς ̣ . ο . ε . . σύμμαχοι οὓς Τισσαφέρνης ἤγαγε, καὶ Συρακόσιοι
[ . . . . ] . . . . νη̣ τωνη̣ κ̣ [ . ] . τ . . . . . [ . ] ε̣ [ . ] . . . [ ] οἵ τ’ ἀπὸ τῶν προτέρων εἴκοσι νεῶν καὶ ἀπὸ

63 Cf. Diod. 13.54.1. Koenen (1976): 55 discounts Xenophon’s dating of the expedition
(408/407, Hell. 1.2.1 and 1.2.7) because the dating formula in the Hellenica might have been
interpolated.
 76 chapter 4

(cont.)

P. Cairo temp. inv. no. 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1, coll. i–ii Xen. Hell. 1.2.6–9

16 [. . . ]β̣ι[ . ] . πεδίωι κατοικο̣ύ̣ν̣τω̣ ν. μ̣ [ετ]ὰ̣ δ̣ὲ̣ ἑτέρων πέντε, αἳ ἔτυχον τότε παραγενόμεναι,
[ταῦ]τ̣α Θ̣ ρ̣α̣σ́ ̣ υ̣λλος μὲν ὁ τῶν Ἀθηναίων νεωστὶ ἥκουσαι μετὰ Εὐκλέους τε τοῦ Ἵππωνος
[στρα]τ̣η̣γ̣ό̣ς,̣ ὡς ἧκε πρὸς τὴν πόλι[ν, ἔλι]π̣ εν̣́ ̣ καὶ Ἡρακλείδου τοῦ Ἀριστογένους στρατηγῶν,
[τιν]α̣ς μὲν τῶν στρατιωτῶν π̣ ρο̣ σβ̣α- καὶ Σελινούσιαι δύο.
20 [λό]ν̣τα̣ ς, τοὺς δὲ πρὸς τὸν λόφον α[ . ] . . . 9. οὗτοι δὲ πάντες πρῶτον μὲν πρὸς τοὺς ὁπλίτας
[ . . . ]σ̣ ηγεν ὃς ὑψηλὸς καὶ δύσβατός ἐστιν. . . . τοὺς ἐν Κορησσῷ ἐβοήθησαν· τούτους δὲ
[ . . μ]ὲν ἐντὸς ἔστραπται, τὰ δ’ ἔξω τ̣ῆ̣ς ̣ πό- τρεψάμενοι καὶ ἀποκτείναντες ἐξ αὐτῶν ὡσεὶ
[λεως] . τῶν δ’ Ἐφεσίων ἡγ̣ο̣ῦ̣ντο κ̣ α̣ι ̣̀ Τ̣ιμ̣̣́ α̣ρ-̣ ἑκατὸν καὶ εἰς τὴν θάλατταν καταδιώξαντες πρὸς
24 [χο]ς ̣ κ̣ α̣ι ̣̀ Ποσσικράτης οἱ] τοὺς παρὰ τὸ ἕλος ἐτράποντο. ἔφυγον δὲ κἀκεῖ οἱ
omit (ll. 25–35)64 Ἀθηναῖοι, καὶ ἀπώλοντο αὐτῶν ὡς τριακόσιοι.

Col ii

omit (ll. 36–42)

στ̣ρα̣ ̣τ[̣ ό]πεδον ἐπῆγεν. ὑπο̣χ̣[ω]ρ̣ούντων̣
44 δ̣ὲ̣ τ̣ῶ̣ ν̣ ἐναντίων οἱ μὲν Ἀθηναῖοι π̣ ρο̣ -
θ̣ύ̣μω̣ ς ̣ ἐπηκολούθουν ὡς κ[α]τὰ κράτος
λη̣ ψ̣[ό]μενοι τὴν πόλιν. Τ̣ ίμαρχ̣ος δ̣[ὲ] κ̣ αὶ
Π̣ ο̣[σσ]ι ̣κράτης οἱ τῶν Ἑφεσίων ἡγε̣[μόν]ες
48 ἀνε̣κ̣α̣λ̣οῦντο τοὺς ἑαυτ̣ῶ̣ ν ὁπλ̣ ίτας[̣ . παρ]ελ-
θόντων δὲ τῶν Ἀθηναίων . . [ . . . . . . . . ]ν-
omit (ll. 50–65)65

Not much is preserved of the third column. Nevertheless, since it deals with
military operations in connection with Syracusans and Ephesus, it has been
hypothesised that here the subject may regard the events that followed the
assault on Ephesus, as recounted in Xenophon: when the Athenians sailed to
Lesbos, they anchored there and saw twenty-five Syracusan ships sailing from
Ephesus to Syracuse; they attacked them and chased them to Ephesus (Xen.
Hell. 1.2.12–13).66

64 Omissions are mine.

65 The translations of both passages are in the Appendix.
66 Koenen (1976): 61.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 77

We can notice some divergences between the two texts: for Xenophon,
Thrasyllus disembarked at the foot of Mount Coressus, for the papyrus in the
immediate vicinity of Ephesus; the cavalry and the light troops were brought
to the marshes on the other side of the city according to Xenophon, or to a
place somewhere within the territory of Ephesus according to the Oxyrhynchus
historian. Furthermore, from the papyrus we learn that Thrasyllus divided
his troops into two groups: a smaller one was ordered to attack the city, and
the main body, which he led personally, went to a high and inaccessible hill.
The first column refers to the Athenian defeat in the first part of the battle;
the second column presumably relates the subsequent battle in which the
Athenians lost again.67
The Oxyrhynchus historian might have worked on Xenophon’s text, espe-
cially if Koenen’s insightful proposal of supplement for parts of line 14 (π̣ [ρ]ό̣-
τ̣ε[̣ ρ]ο̣ν̣ and τ̣ότ̣ε) and 15 (ἥ̣ κ̣ [ο]ν̣τα̣ ̣ς)̣ of the papyrus’ text is right, and if these lines
could be related to Xenophon’s phrase ‘the crews of the original twenty Syracu-
san ships (οἱ τ’ ἀπὸ τῶν προτέρων εἴκοσι νεῶν) and of five others which happened
to have arrived there at the time (ἀπὸ ἑτέρων πέντε αἳ ἔτυχον τότε παραγενό-
μεναι νεωστὶ ἥκουσαι, 1.2.8).’68 The Oxyrhynchus historian seems to add a few
particulars not found in Xenophon, and we might infer that his intention was
to rectify and supplement Xenophon’s model, given that Xenophon reports the
campaign rather summarily. The Oxyrhynchus historian gives, for instance, the
name of the leader of the Athenian light troops (Pasion), the names of the Ephe-
sian generals (Timarchus69 and Possicrates), and recalls the presence of both
Spartan troops and the Ephesians. This detail is noteworthy, since we know
that, later, in 407 bc, when Lysander held the command of the Spartan fleet,
he transferred his headquarters from Miletus to Ephesus;70 this would prove
that a Spartan presence at Ephesus could be attested in the island already in
409bc. It is hard to believe that all these additions (occurring, moreover, in
such a primary source) are entirely invented,71 and I would suggest that they
rely rather upon certain reports, maybe given by local informants from Asia.72

67 Koenen (1976): 59–61. Cf. Xen. 1.2.9.

68 Koenen (1976): 57.
69 Timarchus is known from coins minted between 415 and 394. Brit. Mus. Ionia, Ephesus nr.
16 p. 49; nr. 22 p. 50; Waddington Collection (M.E. Babelon, Inventaire) 1517. Münsterberg
(1914): 87.
70 Source Xen. Hell. 1.5.1.
71 Bleckmann (2006): 12–21. Contra Cartledge (1987): 215–217.
72 A twofold hypothesis has been suggested to explain the numerous details concerning
the account found in the Cairo papyrus: the Oxyrhynchus historian might have followed
78 chapter 4

We can assert with certainty that the papyrus gives more detailed informa-
tion than Xenophon does. Moreover, its author seems well-informed about Asia
Minor’s topography. Coressus is, in fact, explicitly called a harbour, and already
before the discovery of the papyrus some scholars, unhappy with Xenophon’s
assertion that it is a mountain, had suggested this other possibility.73 The Kil-
bian plain might indicate the Ödemiş region, to the northeast of Ephesus, and
the people coming from there may therefore be identified as the troops that,
according to Xenophon, were brought in by Tissaphernes (1.2.8).74
But what can we say of Diodorus’ narrative? That his account is extremely
synthetic is quite evident:

κατὰ δὲ τὴν Ἑλλάδα Θρασύβουλος πεμφθεὶς παρ’ Ἀθηναίων μετὰ νεῶν τριά-
κοντα καὶ πολλῶν ὁπλιτῶν σὺν ἱππεῦσιν ἑκατὸν κατέπλευσεν εἰς τὴν Ἔφεσον·
ἐκβιβάσας δὲ τὴν δύναμιν κατὰ δύο τόπους προσβολὰς ἐποιήσατο. τῶν δ’ ἔνδον
ἐπεξελθόντων καρτερὰν συνέβη μάχην συστῆναι· πανδημεὶ δὲ τῶν Ἐφεσίων
ἀγωνισαμένων τετρακόσιοι μὲν τῶν Ἀθηναίων ἔπεσον, τοὺς δ’ ἄλλους ὁ Θρασύ-
βουλος ἀναλαβὼν εἰς τὰς ναῦς ἐξέπλευσεν εἰς Λέσβον.

In Greece Thrasybulus, who had been sent out by the Athenians with
thirty ships and a strong force of hoplites as well as a hundred horsemen,
put in at Ephesus; and after disembarking his troops at two points he
launched assaults upon the city. The inhabitants came out of the city
against them and a fierce battle ensued; and since the entire populace of
the Ephesians joined in the fighting, four hundred Athenians were slain
and the remainder Thrasybulus took aboard his ships and sailed off to
Lesbos.75
diod. 13.64.1

Aside from the clear mistake of Θρασύβουλος for Θράσυλλος, here, too—in
accordance with a well-known Diodorean cliché—the battle that was fought
inside the city is described as a fierce one, καρτερὰ (κρατερὰ) μάχη. Nevertheless,
the text resembles, though vaguely, the papyrus’ account, since it refers to the
two places—inside and outside Ephesus (cf. the papyrus ll. 22–23: [ . . μ]ὲν ἐντὸς

Ephesian sources and/or he might have been present at Thrasyllus’ expedition. Cuniberti
(2008): 22.
73 Koenen (1976): 60.
74 But we should expect Κιλβιανόν and not Κίλβιον πεδίον of the papyrus: […]β̣ι[.]. πεδίωι
(l. 16). Koenen (1976): 58.
75 Transl. by C.H. Oldfather.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 79

ἔστραπται, τὰ δ’ ἔξω τ̣ῆ̣ς πό|[λεως])—in which the Athenians conducted their

assaults. However, the source is rendered, as we can observe, in the shape of a
brief summary, which suggests that Diodorus exercised a certain autonomy in
re-thinking and managing his historical material.

4.4 Diodorus on Theramenes: Final Observations

A final case to discuss is Diodorus’ account of the Thirty and of the role played
by Theramenes and by the political groups present in Athens.76 The main point
is to understand whether and to what extent Diodorus relied here on the ho for
his use of historical terminology and categories of political thought.
With reference to the installation of the Thirty Tyrants at Athens (404bc),
Diodorus’ account of Theramenes and the moderates absorbs them without
distinction into the group of the democrats, who all agreed that the πατέρων
πολιτεία coincided with democracy:

2. At this time the Athenians, completely reduced by exhaustion, made

a treaty with the Lacedaemonians whereby they were bound to demol-
ish the walls of their city and to employ the polity of their fathers. They
demolished the walls, but were unable to agree among themselves regard-
ing the form of government. 3. For those who were bent on oligarchy
(οἱ γὰρ τῆς ὀλιγαρχίας ὀρεγόμενοι) asserted that the ancient constitution
should be revived, in which only a very few represented the state, whereas
the greatest number (οἱ δὲ πλεῖστοι), who were partisans of democracy,
made the government of their fathers their platform and declared that
this was by common consent a democracy. 4. After a controversy over this
had continued for some days, the oligarchic party (οἱ τὰς ὀλιγαρχίας αἱρού-
μενοι) sent an embassy to Lysander the Spartan, who, at the end of the
war, had been dispatched to administer the governments of the cities and
had established oligarchies in the greater number of them, for they hoped
that, as well he might, he would support them in their design. Accordingly
they sailed across to Samos, for it happened that Lysander was tarrying
there, having just seized the city. 5. He gave his assent to their pleas for
his co-operation, appointed Thorax the Spartan harmost of Samos, and
put in himself at the Piraeus with one hundred ships. Calling an assem-

76 See Appendix where I discuss the Theramenes papyrus (P. Mich. 5982, and P. Mich. 5796b).
On the Thirty cf. Wolpert (2002) and Shear (2011).
80 chapter 4

bly of the Athenians, he advised them to choose thirty men to head the
government and to manage all the affairs of the state. 6. And when Ther-
amenes opposed him and read to him the terms of the peace, which
agreed that they should enjoy the government of their fathers (τῇ πατρίῳ
συνεφώνησε χρήσεσθαι πολιτείᾳ), and declared that it would be a terrible
thing if they should be robbed of their freedom contrary to the oaths,
Lysander stated that the terms of peace had been broken by the Atheni-
ans, since, he asserted, they had destroyed the walls later than the days of
grace agreed upon. He also invoked the direst threats against Theramenes,
saying that he would have him put to death if he did not stop oppos-
ing the Lacedaemonians. 7. Consequently Theramenes and the people (ὁ
δῆμος), being struck with terror, were compelled to dissolve the democ-
racy by a show of hands. Accordingly thirty men were elected with power
to manage the affairs of the state, as directors ostensibly but tyrants in
fact.77
diod. 14.3.2–7

Comparing the passage with Aristotle’s textual evidence, we can infer that
the political spectrum was broader than the reality described here, and that
the demotikoi and the moderates took different interpretative lines, since only
the latter (and not both) led by their leader Theramenes aimed to restore the
ancestral constitution (ap 34.3):

The demotikoi (οἱ μέν) tried to preserve the democracy; of the gnorimoi
those (οἱ μέν) who belonged to the clubs and the exiles who had returned
after the peace treaty were eager for oligarchy; those (οἱ δέ) who did not
belong to any club and who in other respects seemed inferior to none of
the citizens had as their objective the traditional constitution.78 […]

Moreover, patrios politeia is a catchword that has different meaning and aims
when used by democrats or oligarchs during the two oligarchic revolutions
(411 and 404bc). Presumably, by the time of Aristotle the expression patrios
politeia was definitely acknowledged as a catchword. In the chapters dedicated
to the oligarchic revolution of 411 Aristotle says that patrioi nomoi were estab-
lished which were based on the constitution of Cleisthenes; nevertheless, that
constitution—the philosopher adds—was not democratic (demotike), but sim-

77 Transl. by C.H. Oldfather.

78 Cf. Zoepffel (1974): 76, De Sensi Sestito (1979): 15.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 81

ilar to the Solonian one (ap 29.3).79 This apparent aporia of the oligarchs who in
411 adopted Cleisthenes’ non-democratic constitution mirrors the ideological
divisions at that time. For the oligarchs, in reacting to the democrats’ claims
about the patrioi nomoi, did not deny publicly that democratic ideal, but re-
adapted it consistently to their own ideology, so that it embraced a broader
meaning and, thus, they could obtain the widest possible consensus.80 For
their part, the democrats felt the need to appropriate the important figure of
Solon, re-casting the lawgiver in the role of the founder of democracy.81 This
opposition of interpretative lines in regard to the fundamental concept of the
ancestral constitution recalls, moreover, the analogous tendency in the politi-
cal life of the Roman Republic.82

79 Κλειτοφῶν δὲ τὰ μὲν ἄλλα καθάπερ Πυθόδωρος εἶπεν, προσαναζητῆσαι δὲ τοὺς αἱρεθέντας

ἔγραψεν καὶ τοὺς πατρίους νόμους, οὓς Κλεισθένης ἔθηκεν ὅτε καθίστη τὴν δημοκρατίαν, ὅπως
⟨ἂν⟩ ἀκούσαντες καὶ τούτων βουλεύσωνται τὸ ἄριστον, ὡς οὐ δημοτικὴν ἀλλὰ παραπλησίαν οὖσαν
τὴν Κλεισθένους πολιτείαν τῇ Σόλωνος.
80 Therefore, the constitutional change of 411 (παρακελευσάμενος ὅπως ξυστραφέντες καὶ κοινῇ
βουλευσάμενοι καταλύσουσι τὸν δῆμον, ‘[Pisander] urged them to draw together and to unite
their efforts for the overthrow of the democracy,’ Thuc. 8. 54.4) was not presented as a
replacement of the former politeia, but as a switchover to a different kind of government
(καὶ μὴ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον δημοκρατουμένοις […] εἰ μὴ πολιτεύσομεν τε σωφρονέστερον, ‘the
democratic constitution changed […] unless we have a more moderate form of govern-
ment,’ Thuc. 8.53.1–3).
81 Lys. [30] 28. Isocr. [7] 16. Cf. Aristotle, who, in the Politics, calls the constitution that was in
force at the time of Solon a patrios demokratia (1273 b 35–36). It is hard, in my opinion, to
say whether the notion of patrios politeia was a peculiar product of fifth-century oligarchic
thought. It is true that the concept is first attested in a fragment of Thrasymachus—
a sophist who was close to Plato’s circle—in a context that has been taken as hinting
at the Solonian constitution (f 1, l. 47 Untersteiner; cf. f 1 Diels-Kranz). Nevertheless,
the fragment seems rather to suggest a mythical utopia, without any immediate political
implications. As Cecchin (1969): 86 observed, presumably the expression patrios politeia
had not been yet fixed in 411: according to Thucydides, in fact, the oligarchs claimed to
restore the patrioi nomoi, while the democrats replied by asserting that that system was
instead at the base of democracy (Thuc. 8.76.6). However, I am not sure that the democrats
were simply responding to a pre-existing oligarchic slogan (Cecchin [1969]: 85) and I
wonder whether, on the contrary, it was the oligarchs who were here appropriating a
democratic slogan and ideal, consistently with the meaning that they gave to patrioi nomoi
and in line with the reflections of Thrasymachus. At any rate, it is wholly evident from the
discussion thus far that the appropriation of democratic aspects occurred at some point
in the forming, or at least in the phrasing, of that oligarchic ideal.
82 Syme (1939): 149–161 clarified fairly and exhaustively in a few lines the ambiguous nature of
the traditional mos maiorum: ‘the Romans believed that they were a conservative people,
82 chapter 4

Diodorus is simplifying politics (the few ~ the many) when he assigns to

the democrats and Theramenes, seen as one of them, the claim in favour of
the ancestral constitution (τῇ πατρίῳ συνεφώνησε χρήσεσθαι πολιτείᾳ 14.3.6).
The passage is characterised by general sympathy towards Theramenes, since
it emphasises the strong opposition of the politician to the Thirty as well as
the popular support that he received, and attributes all responsibilities for the
oligarchic coup to Lysander alone (14.3.6–7). A similar perspective is found in
Plutarch, too.83 This sympathy might give evidence of a mismatch between the
moderate action of Theramenes within the council of the Thirty, testified by
Aristotle and Xenophon,84 and his image as a statesman, as it was remoulded
after his death to characterise him in close connection with the democrats as a
strong supporter of the democratic patrios politeia. Diodorus might, therefore,
be reflecting his source(s) here.85
That said, it is difficult to work with notions such as the ‘source’ or ‘sources’ of
Diodorus, and successfully determine and quantify the provenance of specific
parts. On the one hand it is hard to pin down a particular source because of
the complicated nature of the tradition, and on the other we must first refine
the notion of ‘source’ by trying to clarify how a later author used the works
of his predecessors. That at a certain point the need was felt to revise the
conduct of Theramenes in a democratic perspective is probable, though it is
hard to fathom the reason for that: it is difficult to contextualise this sort of
reading and to say, for example, whether it was developed by the disciples
of Isocrates or by Theramenes’ entourage itself.86 We could adduce the name
of Androtion, Isocrates’ pupil, a pro-Theramenian and a source of Aristotle,
but I am not sure that we have sufficient elements from the extant fragments
of Androtion to infer that he was at the origin of that process.87 Perhaps

devoted to the worship of law and order. The advocates of change therefore appealed,
not to reform or progress, not to abstract right and abstract justice, but to something
called mos maiorum. This was not a code of constitutional law, but a vague and emotional
concept. It was therefore a subject of partisan interpretation […].’ Quotation from p. 153.
83 Diod. 14.3.4–7; Plut. Lys. 15. Cf. Bearzot (1997): 102–105.
84 Arist. ap 36 and Xen. Hell. 2.3.35–49. Cf. Rhodes (1981): 20–21.
85 Bearzot (2012): 293–307 maintains that the source responsible for this is Ephorus. For a
verbal echo (allusion?) to Lysias ([12] 69) in Diod. 13.38.2 see Harding (1974): 101–111.
86 Bearzot (1979): 195–219.
87 Bearzot (1979): 195–219. The scholar maintains that Androtion was instrumental in form-
ing Theramenes’ new image. That would be inferred from a passage of the ap that comes
presumably from Androtion (ap 41.2). Here, relating the transition from the oligarchy of
the Four Hundred to democracy, Aristotle omits the brief phase of government of the
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 83

Thrasybulus’ proximity to Theramenes (they both were trierarchs at Arginusae,

407bc, and later, after killing Theramenes, the oligarchs offered Thrasybulus
the same office that Theramenes had held, 404bc)88 could to some extent taint
the image of the newborn democracy if Theramenes continued to be depicted
as the oligarch guilty of serious crimes against the state (a charge that Lysias
moved against him). Perhaps there was also the need to reply to and blunt the
strong opposition of the democrats in order to favour a general amnesty for all
citizens.
Scholars have suggested the possibility that Ephorus used Xenophon to sup-
plement or replace the Oxyrhynchus historian for his account of the instal-
lation of the Thirty. This idea is the result of a close comparison between
Diodorus 14.4 and Xenophon 2.3.11–14. Not only do the events appear to unfold
in an identical chronological sequence, but the phrasing and the wording
also show striking similarities.89 Here I again wonder whether at some point
Diodorus resorted to Xenophon’s text directly, without any Ephorean media-
tion. Xenophon’s broad reception in the Hellenistic period and the late Repub-
lic as well as in the second and third centuries ad is pretty clear, after all.
Though it was especially his philosophical and pedagogical works that seem
to have mainly interested Hellenistic readers—think of philosophers such as
the Cynics or the Epicureans—, his works contributed also to the develop-
ment of other narrative genres, such as the so-called Greek novel,90 and the
Anabasis and the Hellenica were well known in Polybius’ times and presum-
ably represented the main authority on Greek history from the retreat of the
Ten Thousand onwards. In his narrative of Roman military arrangements in
New Carthage, Polybius demonstrates he is conducting a sort of dialogue with
Xenophon’s text when he gives the same lively and theatrical scene created by
Xenophon in his account of Agesilaus’ arrangements at Ephesus:91 he says that

Five Thousand, supported by Theramenes, and in so doing he would be remoulding in

a ‘democratic’ sense Theramenes’ image. But, as Rhodes (1981): 486–487 suggests (reply-
ing to assumptions of other scholars), the explanation could be another: ‘I suspect that in
summarising his previous narrative [at ch. 33] the author thought of 411–410 in terms of
an oligarchic revolution and a return to democracy without deliberately subsuming the
intermediate régime under one head or the other.’ Cf. Harding (1994), Rhodes (2014).
88 Cf. Diod. 13.97, Xen. Hell. 1.6–7. They both had fought at Abydos too in 410 (Diod. 13.49.1).
Krentz (1982).
89 Krentz (1982): 131–152.
90 Reichel (1995): 1–20. For Xenophon’s Hellenistic audience see Irmscher (1991): 225–232. Cf.
also Hornblower (1995): 47–68.
91 Xen. Hell. 3.4.17.
84 chapter 4

Carthage was so fervent in getting ready for fighting that it could be referred
to in the words of Xenophon, ‘a workshop of war.’92 The influence of Xenophon
will last a long time, affecting a wide range of Roman literary genres and writers
(Cato, Cicero, Sallust, Horace, Ovid, Varro, Plinius the younger, just to name a
few). Imitators of his Attic style are later found also within the Second Sophis-
tic. Arrian, defined by Suda as νέος Ξενοφῶν, used Xenophon’s Anabasis for his
Anabasis of Alexander and περίπλους Εὐξείνου πόντου, and, moreover, Plutarch
seems to know the entire Xenophontic corpus.93 The impression is that for his
readers Xenophon may have been much more than a mere a stylistic model or
a historical source. And indeed the case of Plutarch is perhaps the most rep-
resentative of that process of re-moulding Xenophon’s works—and with them
late-classical Greek culture—into a new blend that incorporates that culture
into a Roman imperial setting.94 Then, why not assume that Diodorus, too, was
wholly familiar with Xenophon’s narrative?
As we shall see (ch. 7), there is a close correspondence between the Diodor-
ean speech delivered by the Spartan ephor Endius after the battle of Cyzicus
(410bc) and the speeches of Jason of Pherae and Procles of Phlius, as found
in Xenophon, on the theme of sea and land hegemony.95 Even though those
speeches refer to different contexts, they show thematic similarities regard-
ing the supremacy of land hegemony that are indeed striking. Furthermore,
one may also be tempted to compare Diodorus’ account of the events after
Cyzicus (410 bc, 13.53.1–2) and the passage on the patrios politeia (above 14.3.2–
7)—both of which reduce multifaceted realities to binary schemes—with that
bipolar configuration of Athenian politics found in the ho’s text: γνώ]ριμ[οι
κ]αὶ χα|ρίεντες / ἐπ⟨ι⟩εικεῖς καὶ τὰς οὐσίας ἔχοντες and τὸν δῆμον / οἱ δὲ πολλοὶ
καὶ δημοτικοί (P. Oxy. v 842, 6.2–3; see below, ch. 5.1).96 However, in this case,
speculation on verbal similarities might be misleading; a tendency to simplify
political realities, reducing them to schematic and binary patterns, is, though,
very frequent in Roman historiography and biography (senate ~ plebs / oligoi ~
demos). Therefore, we have to believe that even though Diodorus uses partic-
ular fourth-century labels, showing thus a certain familiarity with the fourth-
century vocabulary, in some cases he applies to his narrative a mode of analysis
that is common to Roman historiographical and biographical works.

92 ἐργαστήριον εἶναι πολέμου, Polyb. 10.20.6–7; cf. 3.6.9. Cf. Levene (2010).
93 Breitenbach (1967): 1902–1905.
94 Stadter (2012): 43–62.
95 Diod. 13.52 and Xen. Hell. 6.1.12; 7.1.3–4; 7.1.6; 7.1.8.
96 Cf. below chh. 5.1, 7.2, 7.3.
diodorus, the ho and xenophon: a reassessment 85

Turning to the passage on Theramenes (14.3.2–7), aside from the presumed

re-consideration of the personage in a democratic perspective, the inspiration
for which comes to Diodorus from his fourth-century material, an indication of
Diodorus’ own contribution to that debate on the patrios politeia might be the
brief sketch portraying the sharply contrasting behaviour of Theramenes and
Lysander in the same account (14.3.2–7); one is seen in a positive light and the
other in a negative one (Diod. 14.3.6). The positive judgement on Theramenes’
action is strengthened in the following narrative, where Diodorus says that
Theramenes distinguishes himself for epieikeia and kagalogathia (‘The people,
observing the fair dealing of Theramenes and believing that his honourable
principles would act to some extent to check the encroachments of the lead-
ers, elected him also as one of the thirty officials,’ 14.4.1). Kindness or acting with
moderation (epieikeia) is an important and recurring concept in the Biblio-
theke.97 It is relevant to Diodorus’ paradigm of the rise and fall of empires, which
is, moreover, related to his moral view of history.98 A state (in our case either
Athens of the Thirty or Sparta) that acts harshly with its subjects will suffer
their disaffection, and thus will lose its empire. Those who aspire to authority
should instead surpass others in epieikeia (i.e. 27.16).
Such a fate awaits Athens—as Diodorus makes clear introducing the theme
of the installation of the Thirty (14.2.1–2)—and then also Sparta as well as
Syracuse. The tone of Diodorus’ fourth chapter of book 14, centred on the
harsh behaviour of the Thirty, seems to give a moral lesson, which is fully in
accordance with the author’s preface (14.1).99 The historical paradigm of empire
in which moderation turns to arrogance seems genuinely Diodorean, as it is
found in several contexts of the Bibliotheke, where Ephorus and other fourth-
century sources are certainly not in Diodorus’ mind (in passages ranging from
mythology to Alexander’s diadochoi); the moderation-into-arrogance pattern
is, moreover, applied to Roman imperialism as well.100

4.5 Conclusion

Some chapters of Diodorus’ books 13–15 have been considered in close relation
to the ho’s and Xenophon’s textual evidence with reference to the last phases

97 Cf. Sacks (1990): 101–106.

98 Uninterested in matters of social decay, materialistic and institutional causes for empires,
Diodorus argues that arrogant behaviour causes rebellions. Cf. Sacks (1990): 23–54.
99 Cf. Krentz (1982): 139–140, Sacks (1990): 19–20. Contra Stylianou (1998): 72 and 89–92.
100 Sacks (1990): 42–43 and (1994): 216–220.
86 chapter 4

of the Peloponnesian war and Sparta’s campaign in Asia (395 bc). According to
the traditional scholarly approach, Diodorus uses the ho (as well as Xenophon)
indirectly, through Ephorus’ mediation; this assumption is based in turn on
what scholars presume Ephorus wrote on those same subjects. But, as I have
said, Ephorus is highly elusive, especially if we consider that with reference
to the period in question there is not much material outside of that which is
encapsulated and absorbed in Diodorus’ text.101
The examination conducted thus far has given important results. In the
accounts of the last phases of the Peloponnesian war Diodorus uses the ho and
Xenophon extensively. As for Agesilaus’ Asiatic campaign, Diodorus’ debt to the
ho is pretty clear. However, aside from his general dependency on sources for
factual reconstructions,102 Diodorus seems to show autonomy in applying his
own patterns to the Greek historical material he employed. Even though he at
times chooses particular fourth-century labels, showing a certain familiarity
with the fourth-century vocabulary, he applies a peculiar Roman mode of
dealing with history to his narrative: that is to say, he shows a certain tendency
to simplify historical realities and make epideictic additions to the narrative, in
order to provide the reader with uplifting teaching. Diodorus adds picturesque
colour to the stories he relates and characterises peoples on the basis of their
good or bad beahaviour.

101 Plut. Alc. 32; Lys. 17, 25 and 30.

102 Diodorus usually does not alter the narrative or factual material found in his sources.
When he applies his own judgements and moral lessons to events, they may not be
coherent with others readings coming from his sources, producing evident contradictions.
Sacks (1994): 219, 229.
part 2

∵
 chapter 5

The ho and Athenian Polypragmosyne

The ho devotes many chapters to the policies of the most active Greek cities
and the relative alliances they formed on the eve of the Corinthian war.1 In
particular, a special concern is shown for the actions and responsibilities of
Athens, which, without hesitation, appears very keen to get involved in that
war. Activism, or better, exaggerated activism (polypragmosyne), is the key-
word for understanding Athens’ foreign policy of the period, according to the
ho.
The subject of this chapter—Athens’ motivations for action—allows us
to develop a plurality of interrelated themes, such as the narrative devices
traceable in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s presentation of Athens, his reading
of Athenian activism and of the role of Conon’s action in Asia, the sources
he used and the historical reliability of his accounts. In fact, even though
Athenian polypragmosyne is used in presenting the age of the Corinthian war,
that activism seems highly unrealistic in reference to this epoch, and seems
rather a projection onto the past of events that occurred at the time of the
Oxyrhynchus historian, or slightly before it.

5.1 Athenian πολυπραγμοσύνη: a Literary Topos

The narrator of the ho, in explaining the causes of the outbreak of the Corin-
thian war, raises the moral question of Athenian polypragmosyne, and he de-
fines the leaders of the war party in Athens in 396–395 bc as ‘desiring to turn
the Athenians from quiet (ἡσυχία) and peace (εἰρήνη), and to lead them into
war and πολυπραγμονεῖν, so that it might be possible for them to obtain money
from the public treasury’ (7.2):

[ο]ἱ δ’ [ἐ]ν ταῖς Ἀθήναις ἐπι|θυμοῦντες ἀπαλλάξαι τ[οὺ]ς Ἀθηνα[ί]ους τῆς

ἡ|συχίας καὶ τῆς εἰρήνης καὶ [πρ]οαγαγεῖν ἐπὶ τὸ πο|λεμεῖν καὶ π[ολ]υπρα[γ]-
μονεῖν, ἵν’ αὐτοῖς ἐκ τῶν | κοινῶν ᾖ χρηματίζεσ[θ]αι.

1 I refer to P. Oxy. v 842.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_006

90 chapter 5

Perhaps here we should hear the echoes of two main themes borrowed
from Thucydides: those peculiar ‘national’ characterisations of Greek people
that had been taking shape during the course of the fifth century, such as
the activism of Athens contrasted with the static conservatism of Sparta, and
also the famous Thucydidean statement on Pericles’ successors, who were
driven by private ambition and profit (2.65.7: κατὰ τὰς ἰδίας φιλοτιμίας καὶ ἴδια
κέρδη).
The term πολυπραγμοσύνη and its opposite ἀπραγμοσύνη/ἡσυχία2 are typi-
cal abstract nouns of the fifth century indicating human qualities. Expressions
and notions relating to these words made their first appearance in Greek histo-
riography through Herodotus’ Histories, where ‘activism’ and ‘inactivity’ char-
acterise the nature and behaviour of both Sparta and Athens. True, Herodotus
does not use exactly the word πολυπραγμοσύνη,3 but, speaking of early Sparta,
he says that the Spartans, no longer satisfied with keeping quiet (ἡσυχίην ἄγειν),
planned to attack the Arcadians (1.66.1); in another passage the same rest-
lessness of Sparta is called πλεονεξίη4 (7.149.3). What is particularly striking in
Herodotus’ moulding of the image of Sparta is that we can hardly find a unitary
picture of this city. Herodotus disorients his audience, insinuating among other
things that national stereotypes are not fixed and that even when the Spartans
reflect one stereotype, they were not always so in the past nor will necessarily be
so in the future. So Cleomenes, as Spartan king, appears more interested in the
Asiatic enterprise and attracted by wealth than we would expect. Furthermore,
the Spartans appear ready from the beginning to look eastward, as they respond
favourably to Croesus’ call for military action against the Persians (1.69.1)—in
apparent contrast with the later (Thucydidean) stereotype. However, the same
stereotype may show, so to speak, an inverse truth: even if the Spartans appear
keen to get involved in an Asiatic expedition, they will nevertheless be too busy
fighting with Argos to reach Croesus when they have the opportunity to do
so (1.82.1). Athens, too, for her part, disorients the reader when she shows her
weakness, inactivity and foolishness during the tyrannical age (1.59–64); this
clearly contrasts with the image we get from the later narrative of the Persian
wars (from book 5 onwards). Possibly some generally accepted and stereotyped
views about Sparta and Athens had already formed at the time of Herodotus

2 See Carter (1986): 26–51.

3 We find in Herodotus the verb πολυπρηγμονέειν as well as its equivalent πολλὰ πρήσσειν in the
sense of meddling and plotting (3.15.2; 5.33.4).
4 On the use of this term in Thucydides’ work see Ehrenberg (1947): 49–52. In Thuc. 4.73.4 the
Athenians strangely impute τόλμα (‘daring’), normally their own preserve, to the Pelopon-
nesians. Cf. Rood (1998): 66, note 13.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 91

(at least in nuce);5 however, the historian offers different alternative readings of
those, leaving the issue open.6
For Thucydides, polypragmosyne is something peculiarly Athenian, and it
refers to the city’s dynamic foreign policy, a quality of which the Athenians
were proud and for which they were blamed by others.7 Furthermore, a neat
opposition between Athenian and Spartan behaviour can be traceable in the
historian’s work. The Corinthian speech, urging Sparta to declare war in 432 bc
(1.70.2–5; 8–9), and giving a set of variations on the theme of the Athenian
πολυπραγμοσύνη and how it is never satisfied, is emblematic of this contrast
between the active character of the Athenians and the conservatism of Sparta:

2. The Athenians are innovative and swift to conceive and fulfill in action
their designs; you are swift to keep what you have, form no new designs,
and not even accomplish in action what is necessary; 3. again, they are
daring beyond their power, risk-takers beyond their judgement, and in
danger full of hope; your manner is to do less than your power allows, to
mistrust even what your judgement confirms, and to imagine that you will
never be released from danger; 4. they do not hesitate, you procrastinate;

5 The Herodotean passage 8.132 might be a good sample of the cautious behaviour of Sparta:
representatives from Ionia went to Sparta, begging the Spartans to free Ionia, but only with
great difficulty could they persuade them to advance as far as Delos, because the Greeks had
little experience of Asia. Cf. Pelling (2007 b): 191–192.
6 Cf. Pelling (2007 b): 179–201. Undoubtedly we find already in Herodotus that peculiar char-
acterisation of Spartan people—closely echoing Tyrtaeus’ ethic—as a compact aristocratic
society with a great feeling for freedom and respect for laws that explains its great resilience
in war. The Spartans, in general, are depicted throughout Demaratus’ speech to Xerxes
(7.102.2; 104.4–5) in a way that foreshadows what will in fact happen at Thermopylae (7.209).
Nevertheless—as often happens in Herodotus—Demaratus’ idealising perspective on Sparta
also leaves room for its reversal, such as when the narrative’s heroic tone in reference to
Leonidas’ acting for glory (he perceived that the allies were not eager or willing to share in
the danger, so he ordered them to depart, 7.220) is interrupted by an unpleasant remark on
his behaviour: Herodotus notes that the Thebans and Thespians alone stayed at the king’s
side, the Thespians willingly but the Thebans unwillingly and reluctantly; for indeed Leonidas
detained them as hostages (7.222). Thus that paradigm (like all paradigms in Herodotus’
narrative) does not fit ideally when compared to the whole elusive spectrum of human
behaviour: not all Greeks at Thermopylae acted heroically, some of the Three Hundred Sparti-
ates did not die but lived on, and, moreover, episodes of bad fame happened too (7.229–230).
So Baragwanath (2008): 64–78.
7 The Athenians, proud of their πολυπραγμοσύνη, proclaim it as principle of foreign policy, as
it results from the cynical appeal to the Camarinians to make use of those advantages which
the πολυπραγμοσύνη and the general character of the Athenians can provide (Thuc. 6.87.3).
92 chapter 5

they stay away from home, you stay at home, for they think they might
make an acquisition by their absence, you think you might harm what is
secure by an attack. 5. In victory over the enemy they follow up as far as
they can, in defeat they fall back the least possible extent. […]

8. Thus they toil in trouble and danger all the days of their lives; they gain
scarcely any benefit from what they have because they are always trying
to make acquisitions, and because they regard doing what is required as
a festival, and calm without activity as a disaster no less than toil without
leisure. 9. To sum them up, one might rightly say that it is their nature to
take no rest (ἡσυχία ἀπράγμων) themselves and to allow none to others.8

As has been maintained, echoes and confirmations of the Corinthian portrayal

of the Athenian character can be found throughout the Thucydidean narrative,
where the opposition between Athenian and Spartan conduct is striking also
from a lexical point of view: the Athenians, ἄοκνοι and παρὰ δύναμιν τολμηταί
(1.70.3–4) and the Spartans ὀκνηρότεροι and ἀτολμότεροι (4.55.2–4).9 We can add
that close to the end of the Histories, at 8.96.5, Thucydides reaffirms exactly the
same contrast: ‘… The Spartans proved to be quite the most remarkably helpful
enemies that the Athenians could have had. For Athens, particularly as a naval
power, was enormously helped by the very great difference in the national
characters—her speed as against their slowness, her enterprise as against their
lack of initiative …’
Thucydides makes great politicians such as Pericles (2.40.2), Cleon (3.37.2 ff.),
and Alcibiades (6.18.2ff.) denounce ἀπραγμοσύνη, even if with different nu-
ances. For under Pericles’ leadership the Athenian πολυπραγμοσύνη was turned

8 Transl. T. Rood (1998): 43–44.

9 Thuc. 4.55.2: in the aftermath of Pylos, ‘in warfare the Spartans became more hesitant than
ever, caught in a struggle at sea for which their military structures were not prepared, and
against the Athenians at that, with whom not to attempt a thing was always to fall short of
their expectations of achievement;’ 8.96.5: ‘they [Athenians and Spartans] were different in
character, the one side swift and enterprising, the other slow and undaring.’ Cf. Rood (1998):
44. Furthermore, the narrative economy of the pentecontaetia (1.89–117) throws light on the
characters of the Athenians and the Spartans. In fact, the speed of rhythm of the second half
of the pentecontaetia (1.98–117) gives the impression that the constant activity and natural
energy of the Athenians is more important than the precise strategic value of any action, and
is also expressive of Athenian growth and qualities. The Spartans, by contrast, avoid risks,
with their habitual concern for safety (107), and also after a victory at Tanagra, they quickly
go back home, while the Athenians show resilience and speed of action (108); Rood (1998):
235–237.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 93

into the useful and inspiring activity of a people that was politically and spir-
itually alive. Pericles criticised different kinds of apragmones: those (prob-
ably members of the upper classes, or chrestoi) who simply refrained alto-
gether from political activity (2.40.2), and those who were involved in politics,
but endeavoured to direct foreign policy towards a non-aggressive, quietist
approach (2.63.2).10 This picture of Pericles and Athenian democracy stresses
the difference between his political action and that of his successors;11 Cleon’s
and Alcibiades’ speeches recall the imperialistic ideas of Pericles’ earlier years,
but abandon the policy of moderation and wisdom which, in Thucydides’ opin-
ion, had characterised the Periclean age.12
It seems that in the fifth century public opinion was prepared to discuss the
appropriateness of a daring policy, both in reference to Sparta and to Athens.
Activism is made attractive to Greek listeners not only in reference to Athens
(as Thucydides shows), but also to Sparta, which is encouraged to be daring;
Herodotus makes it clear through Aristagoras’ words (5.49):

All you have to do is capture Susa, and your wealth will then undoubtedly
challenge that of Zeus! Now take your land here. It is not very big or
particularly fertile; and since it has a limited amount of space, you have to
take the risk of fighting with your equals the Messenians, not to mention
the Arcadians and the Argives. Desire for gold and silver can certainly
move a man to fight and die, but your enemies here do not have any gold
or silver at all. When you could easily make yourselves the rulers of all
Asia, how could you choose another option?13

We can perceive echoes of this debate in genres that express either the Athe-
nian perspective (tragedy) or a strong opposition to Athens’ activism (consider
comedy,14 for instance), but unfortunately nothing specifically about Sparta.
In Attic tragedy, as is well known, Athens and Athenians are represented with
general sympathy, and Euripides’ Suppliant Women gives a highly idealised15
picture of democracy and its dynamism, and criticises the cautiousness of other

10 Carter (1986): 26–51.

11 Ehrenberg (1947): 48; Rood (1998): 142.
12 The Athenian naval imperialism of the years of peace (the 440s) was to serve a purely
defensive policy of ἡσυχάζειν.
13 Transl. by R. Waterfield.
14 Cf. De Ste Croix (1996): 52–53.
15 However, we find also hints of scepticism concerning the way democracy operated in
practice; cf. Pelling (1997 b): 213–235.
94 chapter 5

states.16 It seems that both theatre and history captured and represented voices
of the contemporary debate on the qualities of a city and her foreign policy.
However, it must be noticed that the discussion on polypragmosyne/aprag-
mosyne is mostly conducted on the level of an individualistic and moralistic
outlook, both in Euripides and in comedy.17
Though we have picked out interesting traces of Spartan boldness through-
out the Herodotean work,18 the issue of activism, as developed by Thucydides,
has become a peculiar feature of Athens’ foreign policy and is expressed in a
‘crystallised’ form, that is, a binary opposition between polypragmosyne and
apragmosyne. This reading is neither completely reliable nor consistently sup-
ported by the narrative of events,19 and is partially mirrored in contemporary
theatre. But what about the ho?
In the ho activism and conflict are the keywords of the chapters on the
Corinthian war and its prelude (16–18 and 7): οἱ βέλτιστοι καὶ γνω|ριμώτατοι
τῶν πολιτῶν at Thebes were in dispute over politics, and one faction was led

16 When the Theban herald charges Theseus and his polis of ‘exaggerated activism’ (πολλὰ
πράσσειν), the Athenian claims that especially through those πόνοι Athens had gained
much happiness (576–577). A further exaltation of Athenian dynamism is in the words of
the old queen Aethra, that seem, moreover, to allude to the hesitant character of Sparta:
‘Do you see how fiercely your city looks on her revilers when they mock her for want of
counsel? Yes, for in her toils she grows greater. But states whose policy is dark and cautious
have their sight darkened by their carefulness’ (321–325). True, the reference might be
directed to a broader spectrum of cities (αἱ δ’ ἥσυχοι σκοτεινὰ πράσσουσαι πόλεις) that feared
for their safety—and not to Sparta alone—, all the more if we consider Pindar’s verses on
hesychia as a reflection of the anti-Athenian feelings that were widespread among those
Greeks belonging to the Boeotian aristocratic society whom Pindar might have wished to
please. Cf. Venezia (2007): 267–279.
17 See Ehrenberg (1947): 53–56. Fifth-century oratory does not help us much, since most of
the occurrences of hesychia (no occurrence of polypragmosyne) pertain to the sphere of
personal conduct (‘living a quiet life’). Lysias [3] 20, 30; [7] 1; [9] 5; [13] 78; [22] 3; [26] 5;
[28] 8; [29] 6.
18 Above, pp. 90–91.
19 Rood (1998): 236. The pentecontaetia suggests that the Corinthians’ speech, describing the
Spartans as ‘not even accomplishing in action what is necessary’ (1.70.2), is too strong,
because, though the Spartans were ‘not swift to go to war,’ they did so when ‘compelled’
(1.118.2); moreover, they perceived the menace represented by Athens (118.2), which the
Corinthians accuse them of ignoring (1.69.3; 70.1). Cf. Debnar (2001). On the other side,
though ἡσυχάζειν seems a characteristic that does not pertain to Athens, the Athenians in
424 ‘kept quiet’ and lost Megara, gained by the Peloponnesians (4.73.4); and, also, Nicias,
after Gylippus’ arrival in Sicily, did not lead the Athenians against him and the Syracusans,
but ‘kept quiet’ near his own wall (6.3.3).
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 95

by Ismenias, Antitheus and Androcleidas, the other by Leontiades, Astias and

Coeratadas. They were both, probably, rival hetaireiai within the same oli-
garchic group.20 Throughout the narrative, activism in itself does not appear as
a negative aspect of the foreign policy of a state, though its aims, in the author’s
view, are to be carefully investigated and weighed. People may go to war on the
condition that their motivation is ‘to act for justice’ and if an intervention is a
sort of ‘just war.’21 The judicial terminology, found in the text (ἀδικεῖσθαι, δίκην
λαμ]|βάνειν, 18.4; δῷ δίκ[η]ν, 20.3)22 referring to war crimes, makes it evident
that one’s own interests can leave open the possibility of supporting opposing
courses of action, that is, the decision to intervene or not in order to punish a
single individual23 or an entire population. So after the Spartans were asked
by the Phocians for help against the Locrians, who in turn were supported
by the Boeotians, the Spartans sent envoys to Boeotia to persuade the Boeo-
tians not to make war on the Phocians and solve the issue instead through a
diplomatic meeting (εἴ τι ἀδικεῖσθαι νομίζουσ[ι δίκην λαμ]|βάνειν παρ’ αὐτῶν ἐν
τοῖς συμμάχοις [ἐκέλευον / ‘if they thought that they were wronged in any way,
they ordered them to obtain justice from them in a meeting of their allies,’
18.4); however, the Boeotians, who had enjoyed good relations with the Locri-
ans, sent the Spartan envoys away and marched against the Phocians, mainly
because ‘that people had set up the whole deceitful business with actions of this
sort’ (πα]|ροξυνόντων αὐτοὺς τῶν καὶ τὴν ἀπ[άτην καὶ τὰ πρά]|γματα ταῦτα συστη-
σάντων, 18.4). The expression τὴν ἀπ[άτην καὶ τὰ πρά]|γματα ταῦτα is striking
because it is referring here to the political action conducted by Androcleidas’
and Ismenias’ group; also the references to ‘deceitful business’ and ‘actions of
this sort’ reinforce the narrator’s statements on the causes of this war. In fact, a
little earlier, and in a manner that recalls the Thucydidean model,24 after stress-
ing the true motivation of the war, that is, the anti-Spartan activity at Thebes
led by Androcleidas and Ismenias to overthrow the Spartan empire (18.1), the
narrator discloses the pretextual motive that led to the Phocian conflict: this

20 On the groups operating at Thebes see Cook (1988): 57–85.

21 Cf. Siegel (1981): 257–265, Podoksik (2005): 21–42, Bertoli (2009): 7–30.
22 This judicial language echoes the Thucydidean vocabulary of accusation and calls for
punishment for war crimes: ἀντιδοῦναι δίκην (3.66.3), ἐς δίκην σφᾶς αὐτοὺς παραδόντες
(3.67.5); both passages refer to the charges that the Thebans moved against the Plataeans.
23 At the time of the Caunian revolt (19–20), the leader of the rebels, a Carpasian man,
was punished for his crimes: τοῦ δὲ ἀ[νθ]ρώπου τοῦ Καρπασέως κτλ. ἐπιλαμβάνονται τῶν
Μεσ|σηνίω[ν] τινὲς τῶν τῷ Κόνωνι κτλ. ὅπ[ως] ἂν ὧν ἐξήμαρτεν | δῷ δίκ[η]ν (20.3, ll. 586–590).
24 Fornis (2007): 187–218. See Pelling (2000): 82–94.
96 chapter 5

group could not attack the Spartans openly because neither the Thebans nor
the Boeotians would ever be persuaded to make war on the Spartans; this is why
Androcleidas persuaded certain men among the Phocians to launch an attack
on the territory of the western Locrians (18.2).
Like the Boeotians, many other Greek cities had reasonable motives to go to
war against Sparta: the Argives hated the Spartans because they treated their
enemies as friends among their citizens (7.2); the Corinthians wished to bring
about a change in their foreign policy (7.3). And the narrator’s voice intervenes
to support this picture: after voicing the common opinion regarding the origin
of this war, he suggests the true motivation: ‘some say that the money from him
[Timocrates] was the cause of concerted action by these people and some of the
Boeotians and some in the other cities previously mentioned. But they do not
know that all had long been ill-disposed towards the Spartans’ (7.2). Moreover,
to enforce this statement the narrator introduces an excursus on the Decelean
war, concluding that ‘it was for these reasons much more than on account of
Pharnabazus25 and the gold that those in the cities I have mentioned had been
incited to hate the Spartans’ (7.5).
Athens, for her part, shows her complete irresponsibility in looking to a
policy of conquest, which is not pursued for the good of all but only for the self-
ish interests of one party. The narrative displacement elucidates the narrator’s
point of view on Athenian motives, and the deliberate delay with which the
narrator explains the true reasons of Athenian activism increases the reader’s
perception of their impact: chapter 7.2 starts with the Athenian demos, who,
encouraged by those supporting Epicrates and Cephalus, took the position
opposed to Sparta; a discussion then follows on the prophasis and aitia of
this war, and finally the account ends by coming back to the subject of Athe-
nian activism, so as to indicate the true cause of the city’s involvement in the
war:

They took this position of opposition to Sparta under the encouragement

of those supporting Epicrates and Cephalus (πα]|ροξυνόντων), for these
men were keen to involve the city in war, and had this intention not when
they had dealings with Timocrates and took the gold but already a long
time before that. And yet some say that the money from him was the cause
of concerted action by these people and some of the Boeotians and some
in the other cities previously mentioned. But they do not know that all

25 According to Xenophon, Tithraustes sent Timocrates to Greece with the money (Hell.
3.5.1).
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 97

had long been ill-disposed towards the Spartans, looking out for a way
that they might make the cities adopt a war policy. For the Argives and
the Boeotians hated the Spartans because they treated as friends their
enemies among the citizens; and those who hated them in Athens were
the people who desired to turn the Athenians from tranquillity and peace
(τῆς ἡ|συχίας καὶ τῆς εἰρήνης) and lead them towards war and a vigorous
foreign policy (π[ολ]υπρα[γ]μονεῖν), so that it might be possible for them
to obtain money from the public treasury.

This Athenian polypragmosyne is an element that emerges from a chaotic

social and political context, as shown, moreover, by numerous cries and voices
throughout Athens after the Demaenetus affair was known by all. The lively
polyphony of focalisations seems aimed to stress the weakness and incompe-
tence of the demos in making decisions. For, at the very beginning the people
were instructed by the group of Thrasybulus, Aesimus and Anytus (ἐδίδα|σκον,
ἐπείσθησαν) to keep their distance from Demaenetus’ activity, aimed, as it was,
against Sparta, and they followed that advice (6.2):

Thereupon [after the Demaenetus affair became public] there was a great
outcry. Those of the Athenians who were well-born and cultivated were
indignant, saying that they would destroy the city by beginning a war
with the Spartans. The councillors were alarmed by the outcry and called
the people together, making out that they had no share in the affair.
When the people were assembled, the party of the Athenians support-
ing Thrasybulus, Aesimus and Anytus got up and instructed them that
they risked great danger unless they absolved the city from responsibil-
ity.

But subsequently—as we have seen—the people made the decision to get

involved in a war against Sparta, under the encouragement of the supporters
of Epricates and Cephalus (πα]|ροξυνόντων, 7.2).
We can suggest that the Thucydidean characterisation of the Athenians as a
whole is adopted here, but it is woven into a new, different emphasis on the
texture of popular politics. In other words, the ho adapts the Thucydidean
categories by applying them in a particular way to the internal divisions in
Athens, and thus the ho’s characterisation no longer applies to Athens as a
whole but to the particular foreign policy of the demotikoi.
True, the fickleness of the demos comes out sometimes in Thucydidean
narrative, too, but it looks as if that inconstancy represents in Thucydides a
peculiar aspect of the character of the Athenians, seen as a whole. Surely, in
98 chapter 5

the Pylos episode (425 bc) the Athenian masses appear easy to be persuaded
(Cleon in that period was a demagogue and had the greatest influence with the
masses, so he persuaded them not to accept a Spartan peace offering),26 and,
despite their murmurs of discontent with Cleon, they engage him as general
of a new expeditionary force sent to aid the Athenians at Pylos. In so doing,
according to Thucydides, they behaved ‘in the way that crowds usually do:’ οἷον
ὄχλος φιλεῖ ποιεῖν (4.28.2–3). Furthermore, we can notice that after the second
year of war (430 bc), public opinion is tilting against Pericles; nevertheless, not
long afterwards, the Athenians re-elect him to the generalship, ‘as is the way
with crowds:’ ὅπερ φιλεῖ ὅμιλος ποιεῖν (2.65.4).
With terms such as homilos, plethos and ochlos Thucydides refers to the
people as a whole, and not to popular groupings. That is, ‘the way of crowds’ is
the way in which all Athenians behaved. In addition, we also read that Pericles
is well aware that ‘the Athenians were behaving exactly as he had expected that
they would,’ that is, they all had changed their spirit, influenced by the recent
happenings (2.59.3). And a similar evaluation of Athenian fickleness is found
also in the Epipolae episode of 413 bc, where Nicias expresses his judgement on
the inconstancy of the character of the Athenians (7.48.4). Thus, the fickleness
of all Athenians, according to Thucydides, becomes in the ho the fickleness
only of the demos (and not of the entire citizenry!), and the demos alone is
responsible for Athenian polypragmosyne.
Initially, a rumour (ὡς λέγεται,27 6.1) about Demaenetus’ secret agreement
with the Athenian council had aggravated the situation and increased fears
about Athenian stability, and this critical moment is well expressed in the text
by two protests reflecting opposite perspectives: one of the upper classes and
the other of the demotikoi:

6.2 Those of the Athenians who were well-born and cultivated (γνώ]ριμ[οι
κ]αὶ χα|ρίεντες) were indignant, saying that they would destroy the city by
beginning a war with the Spartans. The councillors were alarmed by the
outcry and called the people (τὸν δῆμον) together, making out that they
had no share in the affair. […]

26 δημαγωγὸς κατ’ ἐκεῖνον τὸν χρόνον ὢν καὶ τῷ πλήθει πιθανώτατος· καὶ ἔπεισεν … (4.21.3). It
is tempting here to recall Herodotus’ passage on the gullibility of Athenian democracy
(5.97–98). Of course, in the Pylos narrative the Athenians are vindictive and fickle as well
as gullible.
27 The expression presumably reports what is still said in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s own
day.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 99

6.3 […] Those of the Athenians who were moderates and men of property
(ἐπ⟨ι⟩εικεῖς καὶ τὰς οὐσίας ἔχοντες) were happy with the existing situation;
but the masses, who favoured the popular side (οἱ δὲ πολλοὶ καὶ δημοτικοί),
although they were then in a state of fear and, persuaded by those who
advised them, sent envoys to Milon, the harmost of Aegina, to tell him
how he could punish Demaenetus who had not acted with the city’s
approval.

The Demaenetus affair (6.1) did not occur at the very beginning of Athe-
nian hostilities against Sparta, for we learn at 7.1, through a deliberate delay
in the narrative, that the democrats were in the habit of sending weapons
and crews to the ships under Conon;28 and also that ambassadors such as
Hagnias, Telesegorus and (Epi?)crates had been sent to the King and had
then been captured by the Spartan navarch Pharax and put to death.29 This
delay, which is also a digression,30 seems to be a stylistic device, a means to
stress a crucial and confused historical moment, reinforcing the impression
of chaos and speed. It is interesting that the bipolar configuration (γνώ]ριμ[οι
κ]αὶ χα|ρίεντες / ἐπ⟨ι⟩εικεῖς καὶ τὰς οὐσίας ἔχοντες and τὸν δῆμον / οἱ δὲ πολλοὶ
καὶ δημοτικοί) found in the chapters on the Demaenetus affair (6.2–3) occurs
in Diodorus (13.53.1–2) as well, where almost similar terminology is used to
recall the judgement of the Oxyrhynchus historian on the polypragmosyne of
Athens, guilty of making selfish profit with public money. The context is dif-
ferent, though—the Spartan peace offering of 410 bc, after the battle of Cyzi-
cus:31

1. After the Laconian had made these and similar representations, the
sentiments of the most reasonable men among the Athenians (οἱ μὲν
ἐπιεικέστατοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων) inclined toward the peace, but those who
made it their practice to foment war and to turn disturbances in the
state to their personal profit chose the war (οἱ δὲ πολεμοποιεῖν εἰωθότες
καὶ τὰς δημοσίας ταραχὰς ἰδίας ποιούμενοι προσόδους ᾑροῦντο τὸν πόλεμον).

28 Cf. Isocr. [4] 142, Dem. [42] 31.

29 Cf. Harpocr. s.v. Ἁγνίας, Androt. FGrHist 324, f 18, Philoch. FGrHist 328, f 147, Isae. [9] 8.
De Sensi Sestito (1979): 22.
30 See Bruce (1967): 12–13.
31 See chh. 4.4, 7.2, 7.3. Cf. Lehmann (1978): 77. According to this scholar, Diodorus is here
following the ho. Krentz (1982): 142–143 suggests that chapters 34.3–40 of the ap, showing
the same binary opposition (gnorimoi and demotikoi) found in the Oxyrhynchus historian,
come from the ho. Cf. Bleckmann (1998): 402–404. See 7.3.
100 chapter 5

2. A supporter of this sentiment was, among others, Cleophon, who was

the most influential leader of the populace at this time (μέγιστος ὢν τότε
δημαγωγός).32

The term ἐπιεικής is one of the words used by Aristotle in the Athenaion
Politeia33 to contrast with δῆμος or πλῆθος, and it denotes a member of the
upper classes,34 while δημαγωγός indicates the leader of a popular faction.35
The word δημαγωγός (and its cognates) that first appears in the fourth cen-
tury36 can be found twice in both Thucydides and Xenophon, who normally
revert to the term προστάτης.37 Presumably the dual terminological schema
found in both the ho and Diodorus does not do justice to the complexity of
the Athenian political debate, in which many different clubs (hetaireiai) and
close political followers (οἱ περὶ τόν) played an incisive role.38 As is well known,

32 Transl. by C.H. Oldfather.

33 εὔποροι in contrast with δῆμος or πλῆθος recurs in 28.2.
34 Arist. ap 26.1. Cf. 28.1, 36.2, Pol. 3.1282 a 25–27; 5.1308 b 27–28. Richards (1891): 184. The term
ἐπιεικής is also used in reference to the ‘respectable’ men to be found in both the upper
and the lower classes, ἐπιεικεῖς καὶ τοῦ δήμου καὶ τῶν εὐπόρων (ap 26.1). Its meaning is not
political but moral, denoting the better sort of men in the lower and upper classes, who
would most likely serve on campaigns and risk their lives under the system of selective
call-up (cf. 28.2). The word is used in a moral sense regularly in Aristotle’s Ethics, and
sometimes in the Politics and the Rhetoric (i.e. Pol. 2.1267 b 5–9; 1273 b 3–7). See Rhodes
(1981): 322–329.
35 The fourth-century orators use the word δημαγωγός occasionally as a synonym of ῥήτωρ
or πολιτευόμενος (i.e. Lys. [25] 9; [27] 10) and there is no evaluative implication in that
use. Aristotle differs from his contemporaries in applying the word to a particular kind of
leader, of whom he disapproves completely: he associates δημαγωγός/δημαγωγοί with an
extreme form of democracy, in which the demos considers itself above the laws (see Pol.
2.1274 a 14; 4.1292 a 4–37; 5.1304 b 26). Cf. Zoepffel (1974): 79–82.
36 The older word for a political leader was προστάτης, which is the term regularly used by
Herodotus. Cf. Zoepffel (1974): 69–90. It would be interesting to deepen the perspective
of Theopompus of Chios, who wrote on Athenian demagogues (FGrHist 115, ff 85–100).
According to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, he was eyewitness to many events and also in
contact with the most important and famous people of that time, such as philosophers,
generals and demagogues (Dion. Hal. ad Pomp. 6 = t 20). Cf. Flower (1994): 26–41.
37 Thuc. 4.21.3, of Cleon; Thuc. 8.65.2, of Androcles; Xen. Hell. 2.3.27, of the opponents to the
Thirty; Xen. Hell. 5.2.7, of the leaders of Mantinea, whose power was broken when Sparta
split the city into her component villages. Cf. Xen. An. 7.6.4.
38 Krentz (1982): 46 ff. Cf. Gorman (2001): 201–213. The scholar discourages us from following
Radt’s suggestion. According to Radt (1980): 47–58 the periphrasis οἱ περί + proper name
(x) is always inclusive (in the sense that it includes x as well) indicating someone with his
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 101

political groups, typically grounded on ties of family and friendship (philia),

easily changed their opinions and coalitions on personal grounds and in con-
nection with the ‘changeable balances’ of foreign politics. They had no definite
and clear political plans, aiming mainly at control of their city, and this makes
it very difficult to understand the exact reasons for many political decisions
and, also, to know the personalities that inspired them.39 Think, for exam-
ple, of the controversial position of Theramenes in an important debate of
that period (he is said to have delayed the peace agreements with Sparta in
404bc in order to bring Athens to her knees40), and the presumed remould-
ing of his image in a ‘democratic’ sense by his followers after the restoration
of democracy in 404, as the so-called Theramenes papyrus might suggest;41 or
consider, also, the fact that Anytus, who appears among the leaders of Thrasy-
bulus’ group in the ho (6.2), is mentioned by Aristotle among Theramenes’
followers (ap 34.3), and there are many other examples of similar changeable
balances.42
The picture drawn till now makes it clear that the Thucydidean view of
the daring foreign policy of Athens, which is considered a feature of the city
as a whole, comes under the scrutiny and analysis of the political groupings
appearing in the ho, thus becoming more a feature of what the demotikoi
were doing, or are represented as doing by the author. This picture gives,
however, a simplified and perhaps not fully consistent view of more complex
realities.

followers, people surrounding him or belonging to his circle, whereas οἱ περί + pronoun is
exclusive. Radt proposes that belonging to the same genre or category is a criterion to indi-
viduate inclusivity. Gorman shows that any specification of the referents (whether they
belong to different species, the same species, or whether they are quite indeterminate)
does not necessarily help to clarify a given occurrence of οἱ περί τινα (p. 205). In addition
to this, sometimes x is so relevant that the periphrasis οἱ περί + x means simply x alone
(this occurs frequently in Polybius, Diodorus, Strabo, and Plutarch). Cf. Pelling (1988): 137
and (2011 b): 309.
39 Perlman (1963): 327–355; Cook (1988): 57–85.
40 Xen. Hell. 2.2.17; Lys. [12] 68. Cf. Bearzot (1997): 1–66.
41 Bearzot (1979): 195–219; (1985): 86–107; (1991): 65–87; (2012): 293–307. For my view of the
matter see ch. 4.4 and Appendix, 1. A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Theramenes
Papyrus (P. Mich. 5982).
42 Followers were not only active politicians but also orators and authors of partisan writings.
We can suspect that many differently inspired ‘propagandistic’ works circulated in that
period, disseminated by the sort of partisan writers whom the ap once calls demotikoi
(18.5). Cf. Rhodes (1981): 232–233.
102 chapter 5

5.2 A Fourth-Century Debate?

Leaving aside the issue of the ho’s literary response to previous historians, let
us think about the historical plausibility of the picture it gives of Athens. It is
possible that the Oxyrhynchus historian, in giving his portrayal of Athens, has
Thucydides in mind; it is also possible, however, that he reflects the atmosphere
of his own times as well. The idea of Athens’ extraordinary activism does not
fit well with the period of the Corinthian war, but seems fully justified by the
debate of a much later period.
After Athens rebuilt a new system of alliances (the second league is founded
in 378/377bc), in the course of time she attempted to extend her influence
in the north and made bilateral alliances with Greek states and confedera-
cies, most of which were products of the growing of fear of Philip among the
Greeks.43 Timotheus’ intervention in Macedonia and the Chalcidian penin-
sula were examples of the former.44 Athenian support of Argaeus—a pretender
to the Macedonian throne against Philip (359 bc)45—and the alliance with
the Chalcidian league46 might be seen as part of a broader scenario where
Athens and the loyal league members were about to unite against Thebes, the
Persians,47 Philip and a small number of rebellious allies and former allies of
Athens who transferred their allegiance to new leadership (Thebes, Persia or
Macedonia) or pursued ambitions of their own.48 Though in the real world
Athens lost Amphipolis (357 bc)49 and her activism in the north was due mostly
to the necessity of opposing the allies’ defections,50 in the view of a strand of

43 Such as the alliance with Phocis in 356 and that with Opuntian Locris in 356/355; Cargill
(1981): 93–96.
44 In the area of Macedonia and the Chalcidice, in a series of campaigns he took Methone,
Pydna, Torone and Potidaea (Dem. [4] 4; Isocr. [15] 113; Dinarch. [1] 14; Diod. 15.81.6). The
king of Macedonia, Perdiccas, fought successfully with Amphipolis against the Athenian
forces led by Timotheus in 360/359 (Aeschin. [2] 29).
45 Diod. 16.3 ff.
46 Dem. [2] 6. The Chalcidian league had once been a member of the second Athenian
league; Cargill (1981): 168–169.
47 After the peace of 367 the Persians were pursuing a pro-Theban policy.
48 Cargill (1981): 172–179.
49 Philip is successful in attacking Amphipolis two years after he took over the kingdom of
Macedonia. The Athenians had founded the colony in 437/436, had lost it in 424, and had
been trying to recover it since 368 through Iphicrates. Cargill (1981): 167.
50 On the crisis of Athens in Macedonia and in the Chalcidian area at the time of Timotheus
see Bianco (2007): 51 and Cargill (1981): 167 and 182–183. Important elements are the
unsettled condition of Macedonia after the death of Amyntas and the involvement of
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 103

contemporary public opinion it was Athens’ ‘imperialistic’ aims, her moral

decline and mistreatment of the allies51 that caused their defections from the
league (leading up to the so-called Social war, 357–355bc).52 So, for Isocrates,
who wrote On the Peace in the middle of negotiations to end the Social war
(355bc),53 Athenian activism was to be abandoned and, in order to rid herself
of present evils, Athens needed to learn that ἡσυχία and σωφρονεῖν were far more
useful and profitable than πολυπραγμονεῖν, ‘justice more than injustice, care for
her own affairs more than the desire for other people’s possessions.’54 There
is a certain amount of debate over which moment in Athens’ history Isocrates
regards as the beginning of the corruption. Recently it has been maintained
that in On the Peace Isocrates suggests that the entire period from 478bc
onwards is to be condemned (74).55 It is non-relevant here to ask ourselves
why the period of Athens’ greatest power, that is, the early years of the Delian
league up to and including the battle of Eurymedon or the peace of Callias, is
dismissed in On the Peace as decadence, while elsewhere Isocrates depicts the
same events as the pinnacle of success (i.e. 7.80; 4.118–200).56 For in each speech
the orator uses historical patterns and gives readings chosen primarily to fit the
subject under discussion, which is, of course, related directly to the occasion on
which the speech itself is delivered. On the other hand, as has been noticed,57
it is striking that in On the Peace all the historical examples of the ‘imperialistic’
behaviour of Athens refer to the fifth-century empire and to the years of the
Social war and never to the (mis)treatment of the second league’s allies. This
may mean that Isocrates did not intend to criticise Athens’ behaviour in the age
of the second league;58 or, preferably, that the speech is clearly about the Social
war, but also about Athens’ imperialistic attitude in general, and that even

Thebes in the north. Furthermore, after the Persian King supported Thebes in 367, the
Athenians were beset by enemies on all sides. This situation of crisis can easily explain the
ensuing period of Athenian assertiveness, when the city did not resort to any mistreatment
of the allies who defected (Social war).
51 Modern scholarly approach to this issue is highly controversial; see Seager (1967): 95–115,
Cawkwell (1976): 270–277, Griffith (1979): 127–144, Cargill (1981): 166–188, Cawkwell (1981),
40–55, Jensen (2010).
52 The first allies to defect were Chians, Coans, Rhodians and Byzantines. Certain states were
detached from Athens by the tyrant Alexander of Pherae; Cargill (1981): 169–170.
53 Cf. Diod. 16.22.2; Davidson (1990): 21.
54 Isocr. [8] 26; cf. 58.
55 Davidson (1990): 23.
56 Davidson (1990): 24.
57 Cargill (1981): 176–177; Davidson (1990): 30.
58 Cargill (1981): 177.
104 chapter 5

though the orator might have had the second league in mind, he did not provide
any historical pattern because he aimed to put far greater stress on that process
of moral degeneration. For Isocrates, morality requires self-control; not to be
imperialistic means to be self-controlled. We find sophrosyne as the opposite of
polypragmosyne and hybris, and it is what distinguished the Spartan conduct of
affairs before they built a naval empire (104). When the advantages of an empire
are presented so blatantly as material goods, money, slaves, and luxuries, as
they are in On the Peace, it is a small step to seeing imperialism as a concession
to pleasure, and the renunciation of an empire as self-restraint.
For his part, Demosthenes, who supports the idea of an interventionist for-
eign policy for Athens, reads the first allies’ defections (by Chians, Byzantines,
and Rhodians) in the Social war solely as a result of the initiative of Mausolus
of Caria (15.3; 27; 351/350 bc); in so doing he seems to simplify historical real-
ities for some reason, perhaps a mere contingency, which however prevents
his contemporaries from understanding fully the complexity of the forces at
stake. Perhaps, though, Demosthenes chose voluntarily to pass over the theme
of the allies’ disaffections: in a sort of partisan outburst he might have wanted
to conceal the general opposition to Athens’ foreign policy. Some years later,
in the Fourth Philippic (341bc), in denouncing the πολυπραγμοσύνη of Athe-
nian demagogues, he implicitly calls upon the Athenians to adopt his own
version of πολυπραγμονεῖν, which ideally should involve all Athenians, and con-
demns the lack of an active foreign policy.59 Both orators, Demosthenes and
Isocrates, pursue completely different ideas for the immediate future of Athens
and give reflections and expressions of the lively debate that had been devel-
oping around Athens’ foreign policy of the 350s.
Coming back to the ho, let us answer, then, some important questions.
Is Athenian polypragmosyne a danger for Athens in the 390s? In her general
weakness of that moment, did Athens have the stamina to embrace a renewed
policy of conquest? Probably not, and probably the Oxyrhynchus historian
is not merely simplifying the politics but also overstating the activism of the
demotikoi’s foreign policy. Admittedly, several Athenian interventionists in the
Corinthian war may have been charged later with appropriation of public
money,60 since the same Epicrates mentioned in the ho was taken to trial

59 Dem. [10] 70. Demosthenes talks about those people (demagogues) who advise the Athe-
nians to ‘keep quiet’ (ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν), while these men themselves cannot keep quiet among
the Athenians. The men who advise people to be ἀπράγμονες are criminals, Demosthenes
asserts, who take advantage of people’s ἀπραγμοσύνη and ἡσυχία, while the city lacks secu-
rity in simply τὰ αὐτῆς πράττειν (72). See Ehrenberg (1947): 58–59.
60 Valente (2014): 29–34.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 105

with a similar charge.61 Nevertheless, the verisimilitude of such an energetic

and interventionist foreign policy seems unrealistic and the theme appears
out of place: the topic seems, in fact, not to make historical sense in the age
of the Corinthian war.62 It might reflect, instead, the terms of the later debate
with which Demosthenes’ and Isocrates’ warnings fit well, related as it is to a
different political scenario. In this context, in fact, the political terminology
and the moral questioning of Athenian polypragmosyne become fully justified
and make real historical sense. All things considered, the moulding of the
narrative itself, by showing the ‘irresponsibility’ of Athens in looking to a policy
of conquest, may have implications for dating the work; we suggest ascribing
the ho to the second half of the 350s or a bit later—346 at latest. In fact, from
internal textual evidence it has been possible to provide the terminus ante quem
of 346bc for the composition of the work.63
The ho may well be retrojecting a later debate on Athenian polypragmosyne
to the age of the Corinthian war, thereby emphasising that its seeds go back a
long way. My own suspicion is that the Oxyrhynchus historian is overdoing this;
however, the other possibility is that he was right, and the seeds do go back a
long way. The text might also reflect accurately themes that were the object
of discussion well before Philip’s rise: it might reflect the characteristics of an
earlier debate, and be suggesting how Athenian political debate could get stuck
in a timewarp, and fail to react to changing political circumstances.64

61 Lys. [27] 9–10.

62 So Griffith (1979): 127–144. The fact that, according to Xenophon, in 395, just before the
outbreak of the Corinthian war, Theban ambassadors at Athens said that the Athenians
were ready to recover their arche (Hell. 3.5.10) has been discredited as unreliable. It may
be evidence of what Xenophon thought the Thebans could have said, Griffith (1979): 127;
this passage could also be read as Xenophon’s ironic treatment of Athens’ imperialistic
ambition, Tuplin (1993): 61. Similarly, Spartan hegemony and the menace it represented
for the Greek mainland, as reported in the ho (21.1), has been judged unrealistic in the age
of the Corinthian war, for only after the occupation of Cadmea (382) did Sparta endanger
the freedom of Greek cities. Bruce (1960): 86; Perlman (1964): 74–77; Gonzales (1995): 189–
190. Contra Lendon (1989): 313; Valente (2014): 56.
63 See above, ch. 3.1.
64 In Demosthenes, for example, we find a similar sort of difficulty, or perhaps the refusal
(for some reason) to react to changed circumstances. The Third Philippic [9] is particularly
telling, for we find earlier debates reflected into Demosthenes’ own time. When Olynthus
was surrendered to Philip (348), he sacked the city and enslaved the inhabitants, selling
both men and property as booty (Diod. 16.53.3). It was not the first act of barbaric cruelty,
for he had sold the Potidaeans into slavery eight years earlier (Diod. 16.8.5), and he may
well have dealt the same way now with other Chalcidians; but, Demosthenes is surely
106 chapter 5

If we accept the retrojection hypothesis, arguments that with all probabil-

ity were widespread at the time the ho was written were greatly pre-dated.
We cannot yet say whether this was a deliberate literary device and that the
Oxyrhynchus historian was aware of the anachronism. His aim may have been
to make a political point or perhaps just to make the subject matter more engag-
ing and relevant to his audience. But it also could demonstrate the failure of his
historical imagination and that the Oxyrhynchus historian was unaware of the
anachronism.

5.3 Multa per Aequora … Sea Power and Athenian Motivation

The discussion of Athenian motivation in the last section makes clear the
multiple scales, or layers, through which the text can be read, and, in particular,
suggests that the reading should lead us to reflect on the hiatus between the
time of the events, that is, the Corinthian war, and the time in which our author
wrote.
The Oxyrhynchus historian’s paradigm of Athens, seen as a busybody city
thanks to the active foreign policy of the demotikoi, needs to be reconsidered in
the light of the peculiar way in which the Athenian general Conon is portrayed
in the text. Can this activism, or polypragmosyne, be referred more broadly to
fourth-century Athenian foreign policy? How far should we consider Conon
himself—a quite ambiguous and controversial personality in the presentation
of the fourth-century orators—an expression of the dynamism the Athenian
democrats demonstrate in the course of the narrative of the Corinthian war?
Though it is indubitable that the demotikoi, probably those connected with
the hetaireia of Epicrates, had already dispatched arms and sailors to assist
Conon before the Demaenetus affair, (and had also sent a mission to the
Great King, led by certain ambassadors who had the misfortune to be arrested
and subsequently executed by the Spartan navarch Pharax, 6.1), the image of
Conon does not seem immediately and directly linked to the Athenian internal
politics of the time. True, we find again at chapter 8.1–2 that after a skirmish
between the Spartan harmost of Aegina, Milon, and Demaenetus, the latter

exaggerating when seven years later (341) in the Third Philippic he lists the wrongs done by
Philip against the Greeks and maintains that, after the conquest of Olynthus, he destroyed
the Chalcidian cities so ruthlessly that it would not be easy for someone coming to them
to say whether they had ever been inhabited (26). He seems to offer themes that were
widespread at the time of his writing, even though they were not necessarily fully reliable.
See Ryder (2000): 57–58.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 107

sailed off to join Conon’s forces. Nevertheless, throughout the narrative of

Conon’s campaign we find no hint of polypragmosyne or any criticism of his
conduct.
Conon had been acting against Sparta on his own personal initiative, that
is, without an official mandate by Athens and on behalf of the Persians.65
Probably he enjoyed the support of his own hetairoi66 and also that of a large
number of mercenaries coming from different countries (Phoenicians(?) and
Cilicians(?)67 9.2; Cypriots, 20.1; Messenians, 20.3; Greeks, 20.5; Carians, 20.5).
The motives of Conon’s action in Asia are well expressed in the text through
the episode of the overthrow of the Rhodian government. By the use of the
participle βουλόμενος/βουλόμενοι the narrator usually shows his interest in peo-
ple’s motivations, especially in cases where these are not apparent.68 So the
Athenian general, with the pretext (προφασιζόμενος) that his soldiers should not
become lazy and unfit for the war, reviewed them each day at the harbour, but
the true motivation in his mind (βου[λόμε]νος δέ) was (15.1):

to raise the morale of the Rhodians with the idea that if they saw them
there in armour they might engage in action immediately. When he had
accustomed them all to seeing the review, he himself took twenty of the
triremes and sailed to Caunus, not wanting to be there at the overthrow of

65 On Conon see Barbieri (1955), Seager (1967): 95–115, March (1997): 257–269.
66 From Lysias [19] 12–13, 19, 28, 34–35, we learn that Conon was a patron of Athenian cit-
izens. This is the case of Aristophanes, a politician who was active in the 390s. The ora-
tion was delivered by the brother-in-law of Aristophanes, who, together with his father
Nicophemus, had been executed (probably in Cyprus) on charges which remain unclear,
but which were serious enough to warrant confiscation of his property in Athens. Fur-
thermore, Aristophanes’ relatives were suspected of withholding part of the property. The
aim of this oration is to prove to the court that the property of Aristophanes was not
as substantial as some people had imagined and that, considering all the expenses Aris-
tophanes had incurred in the years before he moved to Cyprus, little of this fortune had
remained. Cf. Stylianou (1988): 463–471. According to Lysias’ oration Aristophanes was
sent on an embassy to Sicily by Conon, to persuade Dionysius i to conclude a marriage
alliance with Evagoras of Cyprus. The delegation was sent in 394 or 393 and Aristophanes’
colleague Eunomus (presumably another friend of Conon), quoted in the oration, is oth-
erwise attested as a naval commander in 389/388 (Xen. Hell. 5.1.5–9). Associates of Conon
might have also been his lieutenants Hieronymus, Nicophemus, and Leonymus. P. Oxy.
v 842, 15.1, 20.5; Xen. Hell. 4.8.8; Diod. 14.81.4; Lys. [19] 12 f., 36. Cf. Seager (1967): 103–
104.
67 Cf. Diod. 14.79.8.
68 See 18.1; 19.1; 21.1–2. Cf. also the uses of λεγ[όντων (6.2), φοβηθέντες (6.3). Bruce (1967): 15.
108 chapter 5

the government. He had commanded Hieronymus and Nicophemus, his

lieutenants, to take care of the situation.

As is clear, the text is proleptic of what is going to happen, telling the reader
in advance that some Rhodians were in the know of the plot (cf. 15.2), and
that they were going to overthrow their oligarchic government (cf. 15.2). Conon
knows that the diaphthora is coming, and he is giving instructions to Hierony-
mus and Nicophemus to ‘take care of it,’ orchestrating his own absence: thus
he appears as the man who is pulling all the strings. This impression is rein-
forced by the narrative of the revolt itself, which is viewed through the eyes of
those Rhodians who were plotting against the state. That is reflected in the only
direct speech present in the text. It is put in the mouth of a certain Dorimachus,
a Rhodian, who ‘got up on the stone where the herald made announcements,
and, shouting out as loud as he could, said: “citizens, let’s go for the tyrants as
quickly as we can!”’ (15.2). Conon returns to the scene again only when the
constitutional ‘order’ has been definitely re-established. In other words, he is
staying out of it and avoiding the immediate blame, even though he is not as
unmanipulative as all that, since he planned the overthrowing of the govern-
ment before his leaving; this might be considered as expression of the narrator’s
admiration for his political and diplomatic skills.
The chapters on the mutiny of the Cypriot land forces under Conon’s com-
mand at Caunus and the consequent disorders at Rhodes (19.1–20.6) suggest
that Conon’s responsibilities are understated throughout the narrative by the
narrator’s voice and the numerous focalisations occurring in the text. Digres-
sions, as we have shown elsewhere (ch. 2), are privileged places where the
narrator expresses his own reading of events and tries to persuade the audi-
ence of the reliability of his statements. The narrator is interested, as he makes
clear, in enquiring into the longer-standing causes of events rather than those
that are immediate and deceptive. So the excursus on the Great King’s reluc-
tance to provide due remuneration to those in his service, which goes back to
the epoch of the Decelean war and is inserted on the occasion of Conon’s visit
to Tithraustes and Pharnabazus during the Spartan navarchia of Cheiricrates
in 396 bc69 (19.1–2), has been considered of particular significance, because the
King’s practice would constitute the chief cause of the mutiny described in the
following sections (19.3ff.).70 In addition to that, I believe that this analepsis
is also the key to interpreting Conon’s conduct and the Oxyrhynchus histo-

69 De Sensi Sestito (1979): 36.

70 Bruce (1967): 15.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 109

rian’s view of Conon’s motivations (19.1–20.6). In fact, the main argument of this
digression is that because of the King’s conduct, the triremes of the Persians’
allies at the time of the Peloponnesian war ‘would often have been disbanded
had it not been for the energy of Cyrus’ (εἰ μὴ διὰ τὴν Κύρου | προθυμίαν 19.2,
l. 544).71 There is a striking parallelism between Cyrus’ way of operating at that
time and that of Conon now: this is shown by the narrator’s remark at the end
of the story that Conon had ‘justly’ repressed with violence both the Cypriot
revolt and the Rhodian disorders through his energy (διὰ Κόνων[α | καὶ] τὴν ἐκεί-
νου προθυμίαν ἐπαύσατο τῆς ταραχῆ[ς, 20.6, ll. 639–640). At this point we should
ask ourselves what meaning this parallelism could have.
Many clues suggest that while the King was individually responsible for the
situation (βασιλεὺς αἴτιός ἐστι⟨ν⟩, 19.2, l. 545), Conon’s actions were entirely
aimed at finding a solution to the problem of the payment of his mercenar-
ies (βουλόμενος δὲ συμμεῖξαι τῷ Φαρναβάζῳ κα[ὶ] τῷ | Τιθραύστῃ καὶ χρήματα
λαβεῖν ἀνέβαινεν ἐκ τῆς | Καύνου πρὸς αὐτούς, ‘wishing to communicate with
Pharnabazus and Tithraustes and to get money, he went up from Caunus to
them,’ 19.1, ll. 534–536). Two of Conon’s speeches—transmitted indirectly by
the narrator—demonstrate his concern for the issue and also that he presents
his arguments carefully in order to get the best possible result: ‘when he arrived
in the presence of Tithraustes and said that there was a risk of everything falling
apart for lack of money, and that it was not right that those fighting on behalf
of the King should fail for this reason’ (19.3); and ‘Conon came to Leonymus,
the commander of the infantry, and said to him that he was the only one who
could save the King’s campaign. For if he gave him the Greek garrison, which
guarded Caunus, and as many Carians as possible, he would put an end to the
disturbance in the camp’ (20.5). Furthermore, the moulding of chapter 20 is
entirely founded on a rhythmic succession of polyphonic voices which empha-
sises the faultless conduct of Conon in juxtaposition with the Cypriots’ absolute
misunderstanding of the happenings.72 The rebels were persuaded by some
who spread false rumours that Conon was not intending to give them the pay
that was due (ἀναπεισθέντες οὕτω τινῶν | διαβαλλόντων, ὡς αὐτοῖς μὲν οὐ μέλ-
λουσιν ἀπο|διδόναι τὸν μισθὸν τὸν ὀφειλόμενον, 20.1, ll. 564–566); Conon replied
that all would receive their pay equally (ἀλ[λ]ὰ πάν|[τας ἔφη τὸν μισθὸν ἀπὸ
τῆς ἴση]ς ̣ κομιεῖσθαι, 20.2, ll. 578–579); then, later, because they thought that he
‘had made all the arrangements for the distribution of the pay in an improper

71 The remark about Cyrus is considered as a pivotal element of the ring-composition

structure of the ho. McKechnie-Kern (1988): 172.
72 Cf. Bruce (1962): 13–16. Isocr. [4] 142.
110 chapter 5

way, they embarked on the triremes—and this was the reason, as some said:
they proposed to take the people from Rhodes and sail to Cyprus’ (αὐτοὶ δὲ
πεπεισμ[έ]|νοι πάντα π[αρὰ τὸ προσῆκον τ]ὸν Κόνωνα π̣ α̣ρε̣ |̣ σκευάσθαι περ[ὶ τὴν
τοῦ μισθοῦ] διάδοσιν ε[ἰσέ]β[αι]|νον ε[ἰ]ς τὰς τρ[ιήρ]εις ἐπ̣ [ὶ ταύταις τ]αῖς πράξεσιν,
ὥς γέ | τινες ἔλεγον, [μ]έλλον[τες τοὺς ἐκ] τῆς Ῥόδου παρ[α]λα|βόν[τε]ς εἰς Κύπρον
πλε[ῖν, 20.3). Though the rest of the narrative (20.4. ll. 598–602) appears unclear
because some lines of the papyrus are missing, this embedded focalisation
makes evident the atmosphere of false suspicions and deceptive advice associ-
ated with the conduct of the rebels. To sum up, the narrative seems to absolve
Conon from any reprovable conduct, as we also learn that he had no part in the
attempt of his bodyguards, the Messenian mercenaries, to capture the Cypri-
ots’ general (a Carpasian); they acted without Conon’s consent, though it also
appears that they had good reason for wishing to punish the Carpasian man for
his crimes: ([οὐ] μετὰ τῆς ἐκείνου γν[ώ]μης, ἐπιθυμοῦντες ἐν | τῇ πόλε[ι] κατασχεῖν
αὐτόν, ὅπ[ως] ἂν ὧν ἐξήμαρτεν δῷ | δίκ[η]ν, ‘without Conon’s approval, as he was
in the gateway on his way out, wishing to keep him in the city so that he would
be punished for his crimes,’ 20.3, ll. 588–590). Thus the topic of just punishment
for war crimes recurs again in the text.73
The association with Cyrus and the ‘just’ conduct of Conon seems to refer
to the general’s complete autonomy from his motherland, freelancing in the
service of the King. For the text is clear on this point: Conon asked Leonymus
for troops, saying that only this could save the King’s campaign (20.5, l. 615),
and at the end of the whole episode the narrator explicitly mentions that the
army of the King was prevented from disbanding by Conon’s intervention (τὸ
μὲν οὖν βασι|λικὸν στρατό[πεδον οὕτ]ως εἰς μέγαν κίνδυνον | προελθὸν διὰ Κόνων[α
καὶ] τὴν ἐκείνου προθυμίαν | ἐπαύσατο τὴς ταραχῆ[ς, ‘and so the army of the King,
having come into great danger, ceased from disorder on account of Conon and
his energy,’ 20.6, ll. 638–640). According to this reading, the digression (19.1–
2) seems indeed to anticipate the future development of the story, as well as
its end, and the figure of Conon, seen as a new Cyrus, appears to have been
constructed with a view of the events whose balance is probably over-weighted
towards the Persian side so that we can see the positive and negative aspects of
the campaign from the Persian viewpoint.
It would not be weird to conjecture that the account might also have been
moulded on the basis of Persian sources (either written or coming from inform-
ants).74 It would indeed be plausible to suspect primarily Persian origins for

73 See above, ch. 5.1.

74 See ch. 3.2.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 111

most of the fourth-century material. It is well known that Greeks of the fifth
and, especially, of the fourth century appear to have been fascinated by all Per-
sian things.75 To some extent, Xenophon, too, might have been acquainted with
Persian material if, as evidence shows, there was some sort of Persian epic,76
including stories of Cyrus, in circulation when he wrote his Cyropaedia.77 The
Persian King Cyrus features prominently in the works of Herodotus and Ctesias,
as well as in Xenophon’s monograph.
Herodotus, for his part, by starting his Histories with the Persian expansion
in the West, explores the versions (Persian, Phoenician and Greek)78 of the
reasons for the clash between Greeks and Persians that were well-known in
his own time. Indeed throughout his narrative he appears to be in continuous
dialogue with (what he conceives as) the East, in the sense that even after
the fifth book,79 where the Histories turns to Greek subjects, the Persians are
a constant referent;80 furthermore, his way of rendering the East and eastern
behaviour throughout the narrative does not rely upon a Greek perspective,
and strong distinctions between eastern and western characteristics are often
qualified and challenged.81
Ctesias of Cnidus, who hands down a tradition somewhat parallel to the
Herodotean,82 seems to depend mostly on Persian sources, though unlike his

75 See Plat. Alc. 1.120 e–123 e. Starr (1975): 48–61; Lévy (1976): 203–205; Lewis (1977); Hirsch
(1985): 1–5.
76 It is reported to be an Old Persian epic that unfortunately disappeared leaving very few
traces; those that remain are chiefly found in the eleventh-century Iranian tales of the
Shahnameh. Cf. Gera (1993): 13–22, Shayegan (2012).
77 Higgins (1977): 44; Sancisi-Weerdenburg (2010): 439–453. On the Cyropaedia as a ‘utopian
biography,’ see Hägg (2012): 51–66, 65.
78 Respectively, 1.1.1–5.1, 1.5.2 and 1.5.3–12.2.
79 Cf. Asheri (1988): xxiii.
80 Herodotus includes in his Histories several biographies of eastern figures, perhaps because
the Persian empire itself encouraged interest in single individuals. The ‘biographic’ char-
acter of Herodotus’ Persian kings was explained by Homeyer (1962): 75–85 with the
use of Persian sources, while Pelling (2007 a): 86 has recently revised this perspective,
attributing Herodotus’ interest in Persian ‘biographic’ elements partly to the use of Per-
sian sources and partly to the character itself of Persian history, in the sense that—
according to the scholar—Persian dynasts drove events more straightforwardly than the
great men of Greece, and, therefore, served clearly and unquestionably as paradigmatic
figures.
81 Pelling (1997 a): 51–66. Cf. Flower (2006): 274–289.
82 In his Persica Ctesias deals with the history of the succession of three empires: Assyrian,
Median and Persian.
112 chapter 5

predecessor he was judged by scholars as unreliable and untrustworthy.83 He

claims, though, to have consulted the βασιλικαὶ διφθέραι84 or royal leather
records for his Persica.85 It has been suggested that these royal writings were not
a dry, annalistic record of events, but rather a sort of royal epic, ‘une littérature
d’amusements’ containing more than a simple chronicle of Achaemenid royal
activities.86 This, moreover, could be relevant for the criticisms that modern
scholars have made of the presumed unreliability of Ctesias and his continuous
interest in court intrigues. Ctesias’ work might reflect his personal experience
as physician at the Achaemenid court, where, in addition to literary sources (i.e.
Hellanicus and Herodotus), he also had direct access to official documents and
tales of eyewitnesses, in particular to those of Parysatis, the mother of Cyrus
the younger and the King Artaxerxes ii.87 Probably he was chiefly interested in
amusing his Persian or Greek-Persian audience.

5.4 Cnidus According to the Oxyrhynchus Historian: a Solely Persian

Success

Oratory of the fourth century88 and later Greek tradition89 considered the bat-
tle of Cnidus (394) as the starting point for the rebirth of Athens’ sea power.
Given the state of the ho’s fragments, we cannot say if the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian’s narrative also dealt with the battle of Cnidus. At any rate, the reading
of that event was not univocal and shadows were cast over that presentation
relatively early. Xenophon and Lysias, for instance, do not conceal the ‘Persian
implication’ of the Athenian victory at Cnidus.90

83 Ctesias was charged with plagiarism from Herodotus, as well as from Hellanicus. Cf. Jacoby
(1922): 2032–2073. Momigliano (1969): 181–212. Cf. Lévy (1990): 125–157. For a revision of
this common opinion, see Lenfant (2004): vii–ccvii.
84 FGrHist 688, f 5 = Diod. 2.32.4 (cf. f 5 Lenfant); cf. Anonymous, De Persia 696, f 3–11.
85 The existence of written royal Persian chronicles of the Achaemenid age is hypothesised
on the basis of the books of Esther (6.1. cf. 2.23) and Ezra (4.15). For royal inscriptions see
Kent (1953), Frye (1976), Mayrhofer (1978).
86 Christensen (1936): 117ff. However, Ctesias’ use of royal writings seems suspect to scholars.
Cf. Lenfant (2004): xxxvi–xxxix.
87 FGrHist 688, t 8, f 15 (cf. t 8, f 15 Lenfant). See ch. 3.2.
88 Isocr. [9] 56; Dinarch. [1] 14; Dem. [20] 68–74.
89 Trog. Prol. l. 6; Nep. Con. 4.4–5; Iust. 6.4.
90 Xen. Hell. 4.8.1–3; Lys. [2] 58–60. Isocrates, for his part, gives an ambiguous evaluation
of the battle of Cnidus, for in his Evagoras [9] 56 he maintains that after Cnidus the
Greeks were freed and Athens established herself as hegemon of the allies, through the
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 113

Part of Athenian public opinion may have overstated the role of Conon
in restoring the hegemony of Athens through his Asiatic campaign and the
rebuilding of Piraeus’ fortifications in the aftermath of his victory at Cnidus:91
we can find hints that he was associated with Themistocles and with the
fifth-century imperialistic experience, outdated though this now was.92 And
this particular reading may have led some scholars to present Conon’s for-
eign policy as well as that of the Athenian democrats (Cephalus, Agyrrhius,
etc.) as an expression of the old cliché of fifth-century imperialism, in com-
parison with a new panhellenic ideal that Thrasybulus would follow.93 Other
parts of Greek tradition denied, however, Conon’s contribution, and even cast
doubt on whether the rebuilding itself of the Long Walls was his doing. Lysias,
for instance, in his Funeral Oration, written for the Athenian fallen of the
Corinthian war, locates this episode in an anachronistic way as one of the best
achievements of the democratic counter-revolutionaries in 403/402 bc.94
In any case, the Persian matrix of Conon’s appointment was not passed over
in silence, and his role of freelancer, as the Oxyrhynchus historian seems to
suggest, was probably well known at his time. Indeed Ctesias, a writer who

generalship of Conon; while in the Panegyricus [4] 119 he presents a view of the battle
at Cnidus that is as negative as its portrayal in Lysias’ Funeral Oration [2] 58–59. Both
texts regard, in fact, Athens’ defeat at Aegospotami as the prelude to further disasters
for the Greeks, and represent Cnidus as a defeat of the Greeks at the hand of foreigners,
thereby suppressing the fact that the Persian fleet at Cnidus had been led by the Athenian
commander Conon. Todd (2007): 159–160. Cf. Lys. [33] 5. Cf. Diod. 14.39. Plut. Artax. 21.
91 Modern scholarship, too, emphasised the role of Conon in rebuilding Athens’ sea power:
Cawkwell (1976): 270–277 and Fornis (2008): 33–64. As for the attitude of Athenians to
Conon and Pharnabazus, it has been suggested that the Athenians wanted to ignore the
Persian involvement in Cnidus, and replaced his contribution with Evagoras’ but they
were not in doubt about Conon and his role in restoring the hegemony of Athens. So Lewis-
Stroud (1979): 180–193.
92 Dem. [20] 72–74. According to Demosthenes, Conon’s way of building the wall was better
that that of Themistocles, because the latter acted in secret, the former by defeating the
people (Spartans) who stood in his way. Clearly, the orator overlooks the fact that in 479–
478 the Spartans, though opposed to the prospect of Athens’ refortification, were still
formally allied to Athens, while in 394 they were at war. Cf. Thuc. 1.89–93, Diod. 11.39.1–
40.4, Plut. Them. 19.
93 So Accame (1956): 241–253 and (1966). Against this view some scholars agree that it is
impossible to notice substantial differences between Thrasybulus’ action and that of
Conon or Agyrrhius, both before and after the Corinthian war. See Seager (1967): 115 and
Perlman (1968): 266–267. On Thrasybulus and Conon see also Cawkwell (1976): 270–277
and Strauss (1984): 37–48.
94 Lys. [2] 63.
114 chapter 5

paid attention to Persian royal history and was personally involved in the affair
which led to the engagement of Conon (398 bc),95 attests a close epistolary cor-
respondence between Conon and the King. Later, again through letters, Conon
would complain (in vain) about his financial situation in Asia, asking the King
for money to pay his mercenaries (395 bc).96 The general impression is that
Ctesias played a relevant role, not just that of mere intermediary, sender of let-
ters and scrivener, but that of a supporter of Conon who carried some influence
with the King.97 Of course, we cannot speak of him as a genuine ‘supporter’ sim-
ilar to Conon’s hetairoi, but probably Conon benefitted from that changing of
balance that had been reflected in the deterioration of Ctesias’ relations with
Sparta.98 Although Xenophon’s statement—that Pharnabazus was navarch of
the Phoenician ships while Conon led the Greek fleet (Hell. 4.3.11–12)—suggests
that at least officially Conon’s fleet was presented as Greek, Conon’s ships and
equipment were presumably those furnished by the Cypriot king, Evagoras,99
and with all probability he was also followed by his own supporters and col-
laborators. We suspect that also Ctesias (other than Evagoras) may have played
some role in recruiting these forces. Furthermore, after the battle of Cnidus,
Pharnabazus and Conon sailed against the allies of Sparta, leading many cities
to expel the Spartan garrisons and to join οἱ περὶ Κόνωνα,100 but while some of
the cities preserved their freedom, those who had joined οἱ περὶ Κόνωνα clearly
passed under the control of the Persians.101

95 FGrHist 688, t 7 c (cf. t 7 c Lenfant). t 7 d = Plut. Artax. 21.4 (cf. t 7 d Lenfant): […] ὁ δὲ
Κτησίας αὐτὸν ἀφ’ ἑαυτοῦ βασιλέα φησὶ προσθεῖναι τὴν λειτουργίαν αὐτῷ ταύτην […]; ff 30,
32 (cf. ff 30, 32 Lenfant). March (1997): 267. Cf. Philoch. FGrHist 328, ff 144–145. Other
personages who lived at the court of Artaxerxes, and with whom Conon was probably
very close, are Zeno the Cretean and Polycritus the Mendaean (t 7 d, f 31; cf. Lenfant).
96 Iust. 6.2.12–13. Cf. Diod. 14.81.4; Nep. Con. 3.2–4.
97 FGrHist 688, t 7 c; f 30 (cf. t 7 c, f 30 Lenfant). Lenfant (2004): xiv.
98 FGrHist 688, t 7 c, f 30 (cf. t 7 c, f 30 Lenfant).
99 Cf. Isocr. [4] 141. De Sensi Sestito (1979): 26. Relations that Athens established with Evago-
ras are not easy to define. Probably in the year 412/411 bc the Athenians honoured the
king with a decree, which survives in a very mutilated state (ig i3 113). According to Giuf-
frida (1996): 619, it seems plausible that these honours were granted on the occasion of
negotiations conducted by Evagoras in the Athenian interest during the years 413–411;
they probably included a grant of citizenship (Dem. [12] 10; cf. Isocr. [9] 54). Cf. also my
paper (2010): 23–43. For proposals of later datings of the coming to power of Evagoras
in Salamis, see Spyridakis (1935): 46–50, Grégoire-Goossens (1940): 206–227, Costa (1974):
40–56, Lewis (1977): 130, note 133, Cataldi (1983): 287–314. Cf. also Tuplin (1983): 170–186,
Lenfant (2004): xiii.
100 Diod. 14.84.3.
101 Diod. 14.84.4. Cf. Xen. Hell. 4.8.1–2; Seager (1967): 101.
the ho and athenian polypragmosyne 115

The process of overestimation of Conon’s activity, found in a part of Greek

tradition, seems not to have concerned the ho, where—as we have shown—
Conon’s political conduct appears independent and unlinked to that of the
Athenian democrats.102 If this reading is right, it might also represent evidence
of the Persian component of the Oxyrhynchus historian’s source/s.

5.5 Conclusion

The ho’s view of fourth-century Athenian imperialistic ambitions shows pecu-

liar and original traits, and differs notably from the view—held both by con-
temporaries and by later authors—that the renaissance of Athens’ sea power
in Greece came about thanks to the action of Conon.
The Oxyrhynchus historian appears aware of Thucydides’ narrative. He takes
over Thucydidean categories of political language, which, however, he slightly
modifies. The Thucydidean notion of polypragmosyne, a feature of Athens as
a whole, comes into the analysis of the political groupings described in the
ho and becomes a feature of what the democrats are represented as doing.
Furthermore, the Oxyrhynchus historian’s political terminology and the moral
questioning of Athenian polypragmosyne, though referring to the outbreak of
the Corinthian war, make historical sense only later, after the rise of Philip. So
the moulding of the narrative, which shows the irresponsibility of Athens in
looking to a policy of conquest, also has implications for the identification of
the date of composition of this work, that is, the second half of the 350s.
The ho’s paradigm of Athens, seen as a busybody city thanks to the active
foreign policy of the democrats, is at odds with the peculiar way in which the
Athenian general Conon is portrayed in the text. The process of overestimation
of Conon’s activity, found in a strand of Greek writers, is absent in the ho, where
Conon’s political conduct appears independent and unlinked to that of the
Athenian democrats.
Finally, as regards the account of Conon’s campaign, it seems fair to advance
the suggestion that the ho might rely on written sources, or even on informants;
in particular, the account might be moulded on either Persian materials, such
as letters, reports, official documents, or stories disseminated widely by word
of mouth.

102 Conon had several supporters in Athens; the majority of them had different, if not oppo-
site, political ideas and aims; so Strauss (1986): 136. Whether or not Demaenetus was
among his followers is, moreover, controversial. Seager (1967): 104.
 chapter 6

Terra Marique …

This chapter offers some observations on features regarding the perception

that the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon had of hegemonic develop-
ments in Greece. It focuses on the ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica seen against
Thucydides’ Histories. Despite the continuing centrality of the sea in fourth-
century Greek thought, new forms of political power, such as federations, are
now directing the interest of the two historians mainly towards land hegem-
ony. This explains well the long excursus on the Boeotian constitution which
the Oxyrhynchus historian inserted within the narrative of the Corinthian war
(395–387bc).
Besides, the examination of the toponyms ocurring in the ho gives evidence
of a peculiar interest in land scenarios; this picture comes particularly from the
narrative of Spartan activities conducted by Agesilaus on the Asiatic mainland.
Broadly speaking, the general arrangement itself of the narrative material of the
ho hints at this new historical trend.1 There emerges what we can call ‘Decelean
war-motif,’ that is an extended treatment of the period characterised by Spartan
occupation of Decelea during the last phases of the Peloponnesian war (from
413bc onwards). This topic appears three times in the ho, twice within the
narrative of the Corinthian war (P. Oxy. v 842, 7.4; 17.3), and along with that war
it forms a narrative pattern that is found in Xenophon’s Hellenica too (3.5.5–9).

6.1 Decelea, or the Supremacy of Land over Sea

Three times in the 760 lines of the London papyrus the Oxyrhynchus historian
mentions the narration of the Decelean war, which belongs to a lost section of
the ho where the historian had dealt extensively with it (‘as I have said earlier,’
7.4, l. 59). Two references occur in the context of the outbreak of the Corinthian
war (7.4 and 17.3), and the third mention is an analepsis that has been inserted
into the account of Conon’s journey to Tissaphernes and Pharnabazus, aimed
to get money for the payment of soldiers (19.1).2

1 If we follow Meyer’s suggestion of a tripartite structure of the ho (Seekrieg, Landkrieg,

Griechenland), land scenarios occupy the two thirds of the whole work. Meyer (1909): 64.
2 See above, 5.3.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_007

terra marique … 117

The ho’s text gives the impression of an extensive treatment and an unusual
emphasis on the Decelean war. This raises important questions: can we speak
in terms of a ‘Decelea-topic,’ that is an extended treatment of the Decelean
war introducing themes of particular importance to the whole narrative of
the ho? What is its peculiar meaning? Does the Oxyrhynchus historian mirror
Xenophon’s narrative of the background of the Corinthian war?
Some clues coming from the ho suggest that the ‘Decelean war-motif’ was
one of a certain importance, and, moreover, the use of that subject seems to
foreshadow a new historical view. Speaking of the Corinthians, who wanted to
bring about a change of policy in Greece and therefore were in favour of making
war against the Spartans, the narrator presents the case of the Corinthian Tim-
olaus, the only man who was opposed to Sparta on private grounds (others had
political reasons for opposing to her), and who had pro-Spartan feeling during
the period of Spartan occupation of Decelea. The personal affair of Timolaus
gives way to an excursus on the Decelean war (7.2–5). But contrary to readers’
expectations, the ‘private grounds’ are not stated throughout that digression;
we should note, moreover, that it relates military events that involved Tim-
olaus and that are unmentioned by Thucydides.3 It is true that possibly ‘the
author did not know the details, but made an inference from Timolaus’ previ-
ous friendship with the Spartans, which is strongly emphasised by the words
outstanding pro-Spartan;’4 nevertheless it is probable too that the historian’s
main concern was to include a further mention of the Decelea-topic within
the narrative. In addition, the two main places where the Decelean war-motif
is inserted are relevant too; they both are connected with the narrative of the
outbreak of the Corinthian war. For later (17.3), in the account of the conflict
between Phocians and Boeotians that caused the outbreak of the Corinthian
war (16–18), the narrator explains that that war was due to the activism of the
pro-Athenian group in Thebes, led by Ismenias, Antitheus and Androcleidas;
then he goes back a long way till the epoch of Spartan fortification of Decelea,5
when it was instead a pro-Spartan party (led by Leontiades) which held power
at Thebes. This excursus gives occasion to deal with Theban prosperity of that
time, which is expressed in terms of military and territorial strengthening and
contrasts with the extreme weakness of Athens in the same period.6 Here again

3 Thucydides does not mention Timolaus in the context of the occupation of Decelea. He hints
at Polyanthes (7.34.3). Xenophon and Pausanias claim that Timolaus along with Polyanthes
received the Persian gold (Xen. Hell. 3.5.1; Paus. 3.9.8).
4 McKechnie-Kern (1988): 136.
5 Cf. Thuc. 7.19.
6 Cf. Thuc. 7.27.
118 chapter 6

the Decelea-topic, involving Thebes and Boeotia, appears to fit a continental

context, that of mainland Greece. This suggests further considerations.
The account of Spartan fortification of Decelea is contained in the seventh
book of Thucydides’ Histories and is moulded through a continuous changing
of perspective from Decelea to Sicily, that is, from a land scenario to a sea one,
which seems to mirror Athenian hegemonic aspirations at sea. To some extent,
Thucydides’ disposition of his material suggests a sort of balanced play between
land (Sparta) and sea (Athens) powers. Differently, Xenophon’s association of
the same subject (Decelea) to the account of the outbreak of the Corinthian
war (Hell. 3.5.5–9) is striking, because, on the one hand, it seems to anticipate
the Oxyrhynchus historian’s arrangement of his material:7 in other words, the
Oxyrhynchus historian could reply to (or even mirror) Xenophon’s narrative.
On the other hand, this may suggest that Thucydides’ balanced interest in sea
and continental contexts is not found in fourth-century historians, who give
instead much more attention to continental scenarios and related happenings.
According to Xenophon, a little before the Corinthian war broke out a meet-
ing was held at Athens with ambassadors coming from Sparta and Thebes (Hell.
3.5); as a result of this assembly a Greek coalition was gathered against Sparta.
In Xenophon’s account of those talks the Decelea-topic does not make much
contribution to elude readers’ expectations about what is going to happen; but
it does play an important role in persuading the internal audience. In fact the
reader knows well from the beginning that the Athenians wanted to partici-
pate in that war, for it is clearly told in the text that they ‘were ready enough
for the war in any case, as they thought that empire (arche) was their own pre-
rogative’ (Hell. 3.5.2). The example of what happened at Decelea contributes
to clarify Spartan and Theban motivations to the internal audience (Hell. 3.5.5
and 8). The Spartans, recalling that Thebes’ conduct was hostile to their policy
during the Decelean war, are glad to have a pretext (prophasis) for campaigning
against her.8 The Thebans, for their part, use those Spartan accusations as argu-
ments to defende themselves against the charge of past misconduct towards
Athens. This is clear from the sentence ‘when the Spartans asked us to join them

7 On my idea that Xenophon’s Hellenica is slighlty earlier than the ho see ch. 3.
8 Xen. Hell. 3.5.5: ‘The Spartans were glad enough to have a pretext for a campaign against
the Thebans, since they had been angry with them for some time. First, the Thebans had
claimed the tithe due to Apollo at Decelea; they had refused to follow the Spartans against
Piraeus and were accused of having persuaded the Corinthians also to refuse. The Spartans
also remembered that the Thebans had not allowed Agesilaus to sacrifice at Aulis and had
thrown down from the altar the victims that had been sacrificed already; and they had failed
to join Agesilaus on his campaign in Asia’ (transl. by R. Warner).
terra marique … 119

in attacking Piraeus, the whole city said no’ (Hell. 3.5.8); which echoes the Spar-
tan charge that the Thebans did not follow the Spartans against Piraeus (3.5.5).9
The Thebans go on and stress the high moral value of an eventual interven-
tion by Athens in favour of Thebes: the Athenians should fairly go to war and
help Thebes especially in memory of internal divisions that the Spartans had
caused in Athens (ἐκεῖνοι γὰρ καταστήσαντες ὑμᾶς εἰς ὀλιγαρχίαν καὶ εἰς ἔχθραν τῷ
δήμῳ, 3.5.9); it is worth noting the sentence δίκαιον εἶναι νομίζομεν βοηθεῖν ὑμᾶς
τῇ πόλει ἡμῶν, because it shows that it would be fair enough for Athens to go to
war (3.5.8).
Some of the charges that the Thebans made against the Spartans in Xeno-
phon’s Hellenica (they supported oligarchies in every city and set up their own
helots as governors, threatening their free allies as though they were slaves)10
are mirrored in the ho. Here the Spartans are charged with supporting and
treating as friends oligarchs who were active in many cities of the Greek main-
land (7.2). But the Oxyrhynchus historian goes further, and, as if playing with
the issue of responsibilities, gives two opposite versions: according to the Boeo-
tians, the Corinthian war was caused by Spartan activism, but, for the Spartans,
that war originated from a Theban conspiracy which later involved many Greek
cities.11 Besides, the ho seems to reply to Xenophon’s text. For Xenophon the
Thebans charge Sparta, among other things, also with greedy and arrogant
behaviour, πλεονεξία πολὺ εὐκαταλυτωτέρα (Hell. 3.5.15); the Oxyrhynchus histo-
rian defines Athens as a busy-body city, which desires polypragmonein, to turn
from tranquillity and peace towards a vigorous policy of conquest (7.2.43–47).12
In Xenophon’s narrative the Thebans forecast that Athens would recover her
arche in order to persuade the Athenian audience to go to war against Sparta.
The word arche (along with the verbal form archesthai, which here refers to
what is seen as the Athenians’ prerogative, νομίζοντές τε αὐτῶν ἄρχεσθαι, 3.5.2) is
a term of Thucydidean memory; it is used by Xenophon in this context in refer-
ence to the Athenian empire and suggests, moreover, a sharp contrast with the
Spartan empire, which is instead connotated as ethically unjust (pleonexia).
But what kind of empire do the Thebans prospect for Athens now? Probably
a sort of hegemonic power, completely new for the time, which is to be held
by a naval hegemon over vast countries: ‘As you [Athenians] know, when you
had your empire, your authority was confined to countries that were accessible

9 Xen. Hell. 3.5.8–16.

10 Xen. Hell. 3.5.9 and 3.5.12.
11 See chh. 3.1 and 8.
12 Cf. Ehrenberg (1947): 49–50.
120 chapter 6

by sea; but it could now be exercised everywhere—over us, and the Pelopon-
nesians, and those who were subject to you before and even over the King
himself with his enormous resources. As for us, you know yourselves what good
allies we were to the Spartans. But you can expect us to be altogether stouter
allies to you than we were then to them. For now it is not a question of helping
islanders or Syracusans or strangers; it is in defence of Thebes herself that we
are taking up arms.’13 Apart from the unrealistic idea of conquering the King’s
territories, the passage is interesting for the many issues it raises, as we shall see
shortly. The perspective of the speaker is clearly of someone who looks at the
Athenian empire from a continental point of view; according to this vision the
sea is rather a limit, an obstacle to reaching further countries.

6.2 The Sea as a Barrier

The concept of the sea as a boundary, a river delimiting the whole oikoumene,
takes its theoretical shape through the reflection of the Ionic thinkers, who
were influenced by Greek archaic poetry (Homer, Hesiod) and by Babylonian
‘science.’14 The notion of the river as a limit as well as the topic of the crossing
of rivers or branches of sea, such as the Hellespont, are significant motives in
Herodotus’ narrative; here the idea of crossing of boundaries often hints at the
hybris of an aggressor and is applied in particular to cases conerning Lydian and
Persian territories. Croesus’ campaign against Persia begins with a description
of the crossing of the river Halys (1.75–2.86.1).15 Before Cyrus the elder entered
the country of the Massagetae, the question was raised whether or not to cross
the river Araxes to give battle to the queen of Massagetae; for the King had
received a message from the queen that warned him off crossing that river
(1.206–207).16 The idea of the sea as a barrier, if not even as an enemy, can well

13 Xen. Hell. 3.5.14.

14 Scheliha (1931): 18–42, Fritz (1967): 48–76, Marzolff (1994): 347–362. For the Herodotean
polemic against the Ionic notion of Ocean, seen as a river which flows around the whole
world, see 2.21.1; 4.8.2; 4.36.2.
15 Myres (1953): 83.
16 Croesus, as adviser, begins by describing the wheel of fortune in all human affairs (general
gnome), thereby implying that he cannot give advice on whether Cyrus will be victorious
(i.e. he refuses to pronounce upon the question of general advice), and finally advises
crossing the river, since this will save the empire even if Cyrus should be defeated (specific
advice, which is accepted). Hdt. 1.207. A definite pattern of advice has been noticed within
Herodotus’ narrative, and in its full form it consists of three main parts: gnomic sayings
terra marique … 121

be exemplified by the advice given by Artabanus to Xerxes at the Hellespont,

warning him off the dangers of that branch of sea: ‘As for the sea, there is no
harbour anywhere, as far as I can tell, with the capacity to shelter this fleet of
yours in the event of a storm and so keep your ships safe. In any case, you do not
need just one such harbour, but a lot of them, all along the coastline you will
be sailing past. Since there are no adequate harbours, then, it is important to
see that chance controls men rather than men controlling chance’ (7.49).17 The
preparations for Xerxes’ campaign emphasise the river motif through the story
of the canal near Mt. Athos and the account of the bridging of the Hellespont
(7.22–25 and 33–37). Finally, at Plataea the battle itself begins with the crossing
of the Asopus, which separated the Greek military position from that of the
Persians (9.59.1).
As Horden and Purcell have noticed, the earliest texts on which the his-
tory of Mediterranean narratives depends—Herodotus, Thucydides, and their
precursors—are explicitly concerned with the settling of disputes on political
demarcations through warfare:18

The Greek historians of the fifth century bc had already conceived of

the past as a sequence of ‘sea-powers’ or thalassocracies, with the secret
of imperial success residing in control of the connecting medium. The
prime example was Athens in the fifth century, binding together many
dozens of scattered settlements across the Aegean Archipelago and on the
inaccessible coasts of that sea, by virtue of being, as a contemporary put it,
‘the Power that rules the Sea’ ([Xenophon] Constitution of the Athenians).
p. 24

Connectivity and isolation are two faces of the same coin (the sea). The sea
gives power to one state through connectivity, while its islands are not penetra-
ble by another state (insulation). So a big power exploits the connectivity; at the
same time the insulation of individual islands, which are subject to that state,
prevents them to have somewhere else to turn. In theoretical terms insularity
is closely connected with sea powers, in the sense that the Aegean islands for

embodying a certain view of the world, a general warning often of a negative kind and a
specific advice dealing with a practical problem and usually embodying a positive plan.
Cf. Immerwahr (1966): 74–75. Land and sea are read by Pelling (1991): 136–140 as elemental
forces, which Xerxes faces, something supernatural, or even magical.
17 Transl. by R. Waterfield. In the course of the speech Artabanus points out also the dangers
coming from land.
18 Horden-Purcell (2000): 18–22. Cf. Momigliano (1990): 29–53.
122 chapter 6

their particular geographical configuration were thought as naturally depend-

ing upon a thalassocratic state.
It is very telling that Thucydides includes a digression on the succession
of thalassocracies within his archaiologia: this suggests that past events are
conceived in the light of the historian’s understanding of his own times, that is
on the basis of the paradigm of the rise and fall of the Athenian empire.19 The
mention of Agamemnon, who could not have power at sea if he, as epeirotes,
did not hold a fleet (1.9.4), is striking because it is the first attestation of that
contraposition between people living in countries and islanders which recurs
throughout Thucydides’ narrative. Moreover, this suggests the idea of an almost
‘natural’ subjection of islands and islanders to continental powers. In fact, the
weakness and lack of self-sufficiency of islanders is frequently associated to
the strength of a sea hegemon.20 This conceptual linking of insularity with
weakness and the idea of a weak position of the islands forming the political
network of the Aegean area are first attested in Herodotus (8.111).21 And further
evidence on this topic comes from the Old Oligarch. The author draws direct
links between the state of insularity and the lack of self-sufficiency and self-
determination, especially in relation to the possibility of forming territorial
unions as ways to resist a sea power: ‘those subject to a naval power are unable,
in so far as they are islanders, to unite the city-states. The sea separates them,
and the holder of supremacy is just master of the sea’ (2.2).
The sea with its network of islands has been understood, thus, with reference
to either connectivity or isolation that it causes. The islands are extremely
important and dangerous at the same time, because they create an ideal bridge
between lands; therefore they may be used as bases for military expeditions.
The most famous episode expressing such an understanding is Demaratus’
advice to Xerxes to occupy Cythera as the only way to destroy Sparta: ‘There
is an island off the coasts called Cythera, and Chilon, the wisest man ever born

19 We learn that initially it was Minos who ruled the sea (1.4); later the Carians and Phoeni-
cians occupied the Aegean islands (1.8). Agamemnon is presented as ruling many islands
(1.9.4, recalling Hom. Il. 2.108); finally, after the mythical times, Polycrates is said to have
subdued islands (1.13.6). Cf. Hdt. 3.122.2. It is controversial whether or not any Minoan
thalassocracy really occurred, and whether the relative tradition found also in Herodotus
(3.122.3) might imply any historical reliability. However, aside from that, Thucydides while
speaking of the mythical age is retrojecting there his fifth-century understanding of the
nature of the Athenian empire and its economical grounds, such as the control of islands
and the repression of piracy which made offshore sailing safe. Bearzot (2009): 104.
20 Constantakopoulou (2007): 101–102.
21 Constantakopoulou (2007): 113–114.
terra marique … 123

in Lacedaemon, once remarked that the Spartiates would be better off with the
island at the bottom of the sea rather than sticking out of it. He was always
expecting trouble from it—in fact, exactly the kind of trouble I am describing.
I do not mean that he foresaw your expedition, but he was worried about
anyone sending a convoy, no matter who. So your men should use the island
as a base from which to make that worry real for the Lacedaemonians. With
their own private war on their doorstep, there is no danger of them coming to
help while the rest of Greece is being conquered by your land army …’ (Hdt.
7.235).22 Cythera was for Sparta what the islands of the Saronic Gulf were for
Athens.23 Probably the acme of speculation on sea connectivity is to be found
in the fourth century and in the reflection of the Old Oligarch: ‘and if we are to
recall smaller advantages too, it is through the rule of the sea that the Athenians
have been quick to research the varieties of good living, mixing with different
peoples in different places: whatever is pleasurable in Sicily or in Italy, in Cyprus
or in Egypt, in Lydia or Pontus or the Peloponnese, or anywhere else, it is all
gathered into one place—through the rule of the sea’ (2.7).
But let us turn, in particular, to the concept of the sea as a barrier. The sea
provides islanders with a sense of distance and self-defence, so that they may
fear enemies only from sea (κατὰ θάλασσαν).24 Herodotus shows clearly this
view about islands, seen as secure places, in the account of the conquest of Asia
Minor first by the Lydians and then by the Persians.25 Though the historian
might echo facts and debates that took place at the time of the subjugation
of Asia Minor, Herodotus’ vision appears to be rather close to that kind of
‘island rhetoric’ which the Athenians adopted during the Archidamian war.26
Presumably inspired by the example of the Second Persian war, when they
moved their children and wives to the neighbouring island of Salamis (Hdt.

22 Transl. by R. Waterfield. It took time, however, before the use of Cythera as a base for
offensive against Sparta came into effect, and that happened during the Peloponnesian
war (Thuc. 4.53–56). On the importance of Corcyra and Cythera in Thucydides’ narrative
see also Bearzot (2009): 102.
23 In the fifth century Aegina became a ‘dangerous island.’ Plutarch relates that Pericles
called Aegina the ‘eyesore of Piraeus’ (Per. 8.5), and the same expression is used by
Aristotle (Rhet. 1411 a 15). Cf. Strabo with reference to another off-shore island, Psyttaleia
(9.1.14 c 395). For further examples of ‘dangerous’ islands see Constantakopoulou (2007):
118–119.
24 Thuc. 3.39.2.
25 He particularly states that when the Lydians first started to subjugate the Ionian cities
of Asia Minor, the islanders did not fear; they were at first indifferent to events on the
mainland (1.143.1).
26 Cf. Constantakopoulou (2007): 121–123.
124 chapter 6

8.60 b), the Athenians in the 450s started the process of insulation of their asty,
by building new walls running from the asty to the harbour, the Piraeus.27 This
project was probably the starting-point of a wide debate on the perception that
the Athenians had of their own space. The Long Walls, in providing security
from external attacks, suggest the image of Athens as that of an island. Safety
becomes an essential component of that self-image as an island. Pericles, who
asserts the importance of sea power, says: ‘if we were an island, could any be
more invulnerable than us?’ (Thuc. 1.143.5).28 The Old Oligarch maintains that
the only disadvantage for Athens is indeed not to be an island: ‘if the Athenians
ruled the sea as islanders, they were able to do harm, if they wanted to do so,
without being injured themselves, as long as they ruled the sea, thus without
having their own country devastated and without having to be assailed by the
enemies’ (2.14–16). The metaphor of ‘Athens-island’ shows perhaps its ‘extreme’
form in Themistocles’ words, which represent Athens herself as a ship. When
the Corinthian Adeimantus accused him not to have any polis (ἄπολι ἀνδρί),
Themistocles replied that his polis and land were the men on board his ships
(Hdt. 8.61.2).29
Spartan occupation of Decelea has been rightly read as the final stage of
the process of insulation of Athens. Thucydides’ remark that, as a result of the
Decelean occupation, Athens ‘instead of a polis became a fortress (φρούριον)’
(7.28.1) suggests, in fact, that the previous stages of her insulation did not
modify the structure of the polis (chora and asty), while now Athens has lost one
of her components, and namely her chora.30 Besides, we have just suggested
that in Thucydides’ narrative the Decelea-topic appears as closely connected
with Sicily (above); now it is possible to better define that pattern (Decelea

27 Cf. Constantakopoulou (2007): 143.

28 At the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, Pericles promoted a defensive strategy. Instead
of confronting the enemy outside the walls to protect their countryside, the Athenians
stayed inside their walls and ignored the devastation of their chora. The consequence of
this kind of strategy was the abandonment of Attica and the concentration of the rural
population within the walled asty. Cf. Thuc. 1.143.3–5, 2.13.2 and 65.7.
29 In so answering he seems, moreover, to dissociate the concept of polis from that of
countryside of Attica. It has been suggested that Themistocles’ original plan consisted in
a complete evacuation of the asty and in the transfer of the whole population to Piraeus;
therefore, the construction of the Long Walls, which included the Athenian asty in the wall
circuit, is a sort of modification of Themistocles’ original strategic plan (Cf. Thuc. 1.93.7).
So Constantakopoulou (2007): 141.
30 Constantakopoulou (2007): 150–151. The scholar has emphasised that ‘this final stage
of insulation of Athens was not the result of an internal Athenian decision, but rather
imposed on the Athenians from the circumstances of war.’
terra marique … 125

~ Sicily), by suggesting that an ‘almost-island,’ Athens, entered into conflict

with an ‘almost-mainland,’ Sicily. In Thucydides’ view the island of Sicily is
a sui generis place for size, numbers of inhabitants, and territorial unity: it
shows the peculiar characters of a land power, other than those typical of a
sea power.31 And in spite of its size—says Thucydides—the island is sepa-
rated from the mainland only by two miles of sea;32 it comes, thus, close to
being a country. It seems to me that it is indeed with this picture in mind that
Thucydides compares the Sicilian expedition with the Peloponnesian war.33 In
other words, Sicily would be almost like the Peloponnese itself. The ‘Decelea =
Athens (island) ~ Sicily (mainland) = Peloponnese pattern makes the two hege-
monic powers in Greece, Sparta and Athens, similar to each other and closely
related.
While for Thucydides the Decelea-topic is expression of the last phase of the
insulation process of Athens which a land hegemon (Sparta) forced upon her,
in the ho, as well as in Xenophon’s Hellenica, the topic seems rather connected
with a probable underestimation of insularity and sea hegemony. Xenophon’s
statement that the war that is going to break out (the Corinthian war) is
something greater even than the Sicilian expedition is indeed illuminating,
because, on the one hand, a continental war is clearly considered a much
more difficult enterprise than a war at sea, and, on the other hand, Thucydides’
Decelea ~ Sicily pattern seems to be questioned and definitely abandoned
(οὐδὲ γὰρ ὑπὲρ νησιωτῶν ἢ Συρακοσίων οὐδ’ ὑπὲρ ἀλλοτρίων … Hell. 3.5.14): it
is replaced by a new one, that of Decelea ~ Thebes. The Decelean pattern
appears, in fact, as occurring in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s text to emphasise
and give reason for the growth of Thebes: ‘The Thebans had advanced greatly
towards complete prosperity as soon as the war between Athens and Sparta
began. For when the Athenians began to move against Boeotia, those who
lived in Erythrae, Scaphae, Scolus, Aulis, Schoenus, Potniae and many other
such places which had no walls, were gathered into Thebes and doubled her
size. 4. And indeed it happened that the city fared even better when, with
the Spartans, they fortified Decelea against the Athenians. For they bought
up the slaves and the rest of the stuff captured in the war for a small price,
and, since they lived in the neighbouring areas, they carried home all the
equipment from Attica, starting with the timber and the tiles of the houses’
(17.3–4).

31 Thuc. 4.59–64. 6.33–34. 6.86.3. Cf. Bearzot (2009): 109.

32 Thuc. 6.1.2.
33 Thuc. 6.1.1.
126 chapter 6

Why then should the Oxyrhynchus historian go back to the Decelean war
here again, at this stage of the narrative (17.3–4), if he had already dealt with
the topic previously? Presumably because, with the benefit of hindsight, he
realised that the last phases of the Peloponnesian war, following the occupation
of Decelea, led to a change in the balance of powers that allowed a continental
power like Sparta to hold hegemony over both the Aegean Sea and the Greek
mainland. Statistical data show that the ho gives peculiar attention to land
scenarios; which confirms this new historical perspective. The examination
of the toponyms recurring in the ho’s texts (the Cairo papyrus, the Florence
papyrus and the London papyrus)34 demonstrates that only a small percentage
(even though considerable) refers to sea operations (17%), while the biggest
portion of toponyms comes from both the Asiatic scenario (35 %, Agesilaus’
Asiatic campaign) and the Boeotian (35%):

Without any doubt some of fifth-century patterns go on to be still actual in

the fourth century too. And the sea appears not to have completely lost its
attractiveness as a topic of debate. The famous exultant shout of Xenophon’s
soldiers as they caught sight of open water after a long march back through
the mountains of eastern Anatolia—‘thalatta, thalatta’ (Xen. An. 4.7.24)—is a
clear proof of the understanding of the Black Sea as a medium for connecting
people.
Also for the Oxyrhynchus historian the sea—here the Sea of Marmara—is
a network of communications, if it allows Agesilaus, who reached the coast

34 Greek terms and expressions have been then grouped according to broad geographical
patterns as far as possible; but note the concept of ‘Hellas,’ which is hard to categorise.
terra marique … 127

from the inland territory of Asia, to transfer safely the booty elsewhere (Cyz-
icus) and to put in touch various comparts of the Greek army that were located
in Asia (22.4). If the sea is understood as a means to stock up with supplies
(22.1), the river looks like a kind of helpful fellow-traveller guiding Agesilaus’
army in its march. Agesilaus’ march throughout the Asiatic mainland follows
a path which is parallel to the course of the Rhyndacus river (22.3). In other
cases the crossing of a river (the Sangarion) may be exhausting for the sol-
diers (22.2), or even dangerous; this is the case when Agesilaus encamps behind
the Maeander river, and makes a sacrifice asking the god whether he should
cross the river or not, and, thus, whether he should go ahead with his march
or lead his army back (12.3). The river motive here, as in Herodotus, hints at
a demarcation line, the crossing of which would mean indeed the starting-
point of an aggression. The same topic can be found in Xenophon’s narra-
tive too (5.3.3), where a surprising nuance is found: the river as a boundary
zone maintains the role of limes even though its bed has dried up (4.2.15)!
Like the sea, the river may become dangerous too, especially when it flows
within a city. The Spartan military intervention against Mantinea in 385bc
shows that the city was conquered after the Spartans stopped the outflow
of the river; the level of the water rose above the foundations of the houses
and above those of the city wall. At the end of the story, Xenophon gives a
warning for the future: ‘it was a campaign which taught people at least one
thing, and that is not to let a river run through the walls of one’s city’ (5.2.4–
7).
Turning to the sea, the Aegean scenario in Xenophon’s Hellenica shows
considerable complexity.35 The motive of ‘dangerous island’ forming a bridge
between lands and a base for military expeditions recurs both in the ho’s and in
Xenophon’s narrative.36 At the time of Spartan occupation of Decelea, Athens
was damaged by enemy devastations of the islands that sided with her (P.
Oxy. v 842, 7.4). Aegina was the base of the Spartan harmost, Milon, in the
period preceding the Corinthian war (8.2), and in 389bc the Spartan Eteonicus
carried out raids against Athens from this island (Xen. Hell. 5.1.1–2). The island
of Rhodes, under the control of Conon, was so sensitive to the events of the
mainland (disorders occurred against Conon’s leadership at Caunus) that it
consequently revolted too (20.3–4). Conon used Melos and Cythera as bases
against Sparta (Hell. 4.8.7–8).

35 The first two books, and especially the fourth book; but see also the naval operations of
376/375 at the end of book 5 (5.4) and at book 6 (6.2).
36 This echoes Thucydides’ vision of sea hegemony.
128 chapter 6

The case of Corcyra is particularly interesting, as the island is well situated

for leading operations towards the Gulf of Corinth; it is, moreover, a good base
for raids on Spartan territory, on Epirus, and for journeying along the coast
route from Sicily to the Peloponnese (Hell. 6.2.9). The omphalic position of
Corcyra within the Mediterranean area, as appears in Xenophon’s narrative,
might suggest that the island had been replacing the centrality of Athens in the
perception that Greeks had of their physical space. It is true that Xenophon’s
passage on the coastal route from Corcyra to Sparta and Sicily (Hell. 6.2.9) may
echo, even verbatim, both the Corcyrean speech (1.33 and 36) and the following
Athenian response (1.44), as given by Thucydides. In fact Xenophon’s statement
that ‘no other state except Athens herself could produce more ships and more
money than Corcyra’ (6.2.9) recalls very closely Thucydides 1.33: ‘we [the Cor-
cyreans] are, after you, the greatest naval power in Hellas.’ Furthermore, the
Corcyrean ambassadors, after listing those advantages that Athens would get
by allying with the island, add that ‘Corcyra lies in an excellent position on the
coastal route to Italy and Sicily, and is thus able to prevent naval reinforcement
coming from there, or going from the Peloponnese to these countries’ (Thuc.
1.36). In this way Xenophon’s understanding of Corcyrean insularity might
appear as already prefigured by Thucydides’ narrative. Nonetheless the views
of the two historians are pretty different. For, according to Thucydides, after the
Corcyreans (and the Corinthians) deliver their speeches, the Athenians believe
that it is time to intervene, especially in consideration of the fact that Cor-
cyra lies ‘very conveniently on the coastal route to Italy and Sicily’ (Thuc. 1.44).
According to Xenophon, for the Corcyreans their island is particularly impor-
tant because well situated for the coast route from Sicily to the Peloponnese (εἰς
Πελοπόννησον ἀπὸ Σικελίας παράπλου, 6.2.9). The shift in direction suggests also
a shift in perspective. It looks as if the axis of Mediterranean is conceived now,
in Xenophon’s times, as shifted towards west, from Athens to Corcyra.
This is not surprising if we consider that the rhetoric itself of ‘the island
of Athens,’ found in Thucydides, had been fading in the course of the fourth
century. In the narrative of the last phases of the Peloponnesian war (the first
two books of the Hellenica) Xenophon uses Agis’ thoughts and words to make
it clear that Sparta had to intervene as soon as possible to stop the dangerous
consequences of the insulation of Athens: ‘from Decelea Agis could see the
ships carrying grain that were constantly sailing in to Piraeus, and he remarked
that there was no use in his men going on spending so much time in cutting the
Athenians off from their land unless it were possible also to control the sources
from which food was being brought in to them by sea’ (Hell. 1.1.35). And as a
result of that war, the Thucydidean paradigm is completely reversed: the island
of Athens is finally besieged by land and sea (Hell. 2.2.10).
terra marique … 129

Admittedly, Thucydides’ rhetoric on sea hegemony occurs near the end of

Xenophon’s Hellenica,37 and it is at best exemplified by the topos of ‘Athens-
island.’ The Athenian complete dependence on sea is emphasised throughout
a speech that Procles of Phlius delivered at Athens after the first invasion of
the Peloponnese by Epaminondas (369 bc). Athens is described as surrounded
with islands that are weaker than her: πλεῖσται γὰρ πόλεις τῶν δεομένων τῆς
θαλάττης περὶ τὴν ὑμετέραν πόλιν οἰκοῦσι, καὶ αὗται πᾶσαι ἀσθενέστεραι τῆς ὑμε-
τέρας (Hell. 7.1.3). Furthermore, the suggestion that in naval actions the Athe-
nians would risk wives, children, and even the whole state (7.1.7) seems to
recall indeed Themistocles’ conception of his polis as well as the metaphor
of ‘Athens-ship.’ Despite these echoes, however, fifth-century rhetoric on sea
power is unfitting to Xenophon’s times, because it is now related to the idea
that Athens and Sparta ought to share the supreme command (sea command
would be given to Athens and land control to Sparta). This idea is however unre-
alistic, for it does not suit the policies that were adopted by Athens and Sparta
in the late 370s; it is also anachronistic in recalling the Cimonian rhetoric of
the lame Greece without one of the two legs (Athens and Sparta) and Lep-
tines’ warning of a blind Greece if deprived of one of the two eyes (Athens and
Sparta).38
Aside from the old-fashioned rhetoric on sea power echoed in the last two
books of Xenophon’s Hellenica, the sea often appears as a limit in Xenophon’s
narrative. This is apparent especially when the issue about Athenian supplies
is under discussion. The Athenian dependence on sea suggested by Procles’
speech itself (though it is delivered with a different mood, and a different
aim, that is to emphasise the importance to holding sea hegemony) gives the
extent of the limits imposed by the sea, especially in war times (Hell. 7.1.1–11).
Further examples come from the first two books of the Hellenica: Agis blocked
Athenian grain supplies by sending Clearchus to Byzantium and Chalcedon
(1.1.35); Lysander in the Hellespont intercepted the Athenian merchant ships
coming out of the Pontus (2.1.17) and occupied Lampsacus, an Athenian ally
‘full of wine and grain and other supplies’ (2.1.19); the Athenians at Aegospotami
were depending on Sestus to stock up with supplies (2.1.25). Furthermore, being
an island may also mean being mostly poor. Xenophon mentions islands as
example of poverty in comparison with the mainland, which is instead an

37 At the end of book 6 (6.5.33–49) and at the beginning of book 7 (7.1.1–14) Xenophon deals
with issues related to land and sea hegemony and, particularly, with the idea of a division
of responsibilities between Athens (a sea power) and Sparta (a land power). Athens is
described as the city for which the exercise of naval power is something naturally ordered.
38 See below, ch. 7.
130 chapter 6

effective source of wealth: ‘as for money’—says Polydamas of Pharsalus—‘we

surely should be likely to enjoy a greater abundance of it, for we should not
be looking to little islands (νησύδρια) for our revenues, but drawing upon the
resources of peoples of the continent (ἠπειρωτικὰ ἔθνη). […] It is by drawing
upon the resources, not of the islands, but of a continent, that the King of the
Persians is the richest of mortals’ (6.1.12).
Important features of fourth-century debate over hegemony have emerged
thus far. A bivalent understanding of the sea is indeed noteworthy: the sea
is seen as mainly a limit; otherwise, it may be a sort of connecting network.
Besides, the Decelea ~ Thebes pattern suggests that great attention is now
addressed to land scenarios by both the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon.
Although the sea has not lost its attractiveness yet and is still important in
Xenophon’s reflection on issues of hegemony, new themes and topics emerge,
which are connected with new forms of continental power. This last aspect will
be dealt with in the next section.39

6.3 τὸ συμπολιτεύειν: Thebes versus Boeotia?

As we have seen in the first section, the excursus on Theban prosperity refers
to the period of the Decelean war (17.3); it is part of a broader ring composition
narrative on the dispute between Boeotians and Phocians (16–18).40 That con-
flict gives an opportunity to the Oxyrhynchus historian to speak of the Boeotian
institutional system at the time of that war (16).
The management of both local affairs and federal policy is explained
throughout two sections which are correlated by parallelisms: εἶχεν δὲ τὰ πράγ-
ματα τότε κα[τὰ τὴ]ν | Βοιωτίαν οὕτως κτλ. and τὸ δὲ τῶ[ν Βοι]|ωτῶν τοῦτον ἦν τὸν
τρόπον συντεταγμένον κτλ. (ll. 383–384 and 391–392). In Boeotia all cities were
governed through four councils that were concerned solely with local policy,
and formed a sort of local government restricted to property classes, possibly
even just to the hoplite class.41 Each of these, in rotation, acted as a probouleu-
tic body, which brought proposals before the other three, and resolutions
adopted by all four councils became finally valid.42 As regards federal policy the

39 See also ch. 7.

40 See ch. 2.
41 Bruce (1967): 158.
42 The text suggests, in fact, that the three councils voted separately and that one negative
vote was sufficient to prevent the adoption of any measures. Bruce (1967): 103.
terra marique … 131

whole area was arranged in eleven divisions,43 each of them providing one
boeotarch, sixty councilors, one thousand hoplites and one hundred cavalry.
In proportion to the number of its magistrates, each community shared in the
common treasury,44 paid taxes, and appointed jurymen.45 It is common opin-
ion today that the Boeotian federal council was a four-part type as the local
councils (though the Oxyrhynchus historian is silent on this matter),46 even
though its decisional procedure might have been quite different from that of
the local councils. For the supreme authority seems, in fact, to be held only
by the boeotarchs, who moreover do not appear to conduct any probouleutic
action.47 The four-council system was oligarchic, and its nature is made clear
by the provision that not all citizens could serve on the councils, but only those
who met what the Oxyrhynchus historian vaguely describes as ‘a certain prop-
erty qualification.’48
It is interesting to notice that some aspects of the constitutional history of
Athens in the last part of the fifth century and the first half of the fourth seem to
be inspired by the Boeotian model. According to Aristotle’s Athenaion Politeia,
sponsors of antidemocratic changes in Athens during the confused days of the
411 oligarchic coup proposed an arrangement closely reminiscent of the Boeo-

43 Thebes (which included Plataea, Scolus, Erythrae, and Scaphae), Orchomenus, Hysiae(?),
Thespiae (with Eutresis and Thisbae), Tanagra, Haliartus, Lebadea, Coronea, Acraeph-
nium, Copae, Chaeronea. Seven of them (Thebes, Haliartus, Coronea, Copae, Thespiae,
Tanagra, Orchomenus) are known from Thucydides 4.93. Some changes, however, took
place in the course of time (447–395), for we know that until after 424 Chaeronea was
subjected to Orchomenus, and there are also doubts about the independence of Hysiae.
In fact, Meyer (1909): 95 thought that Hysiae depended on Orchomenus in 395. Cf. Paus.
9.24.3, Étienne-Knoepfler (1976): 215–233, Lérida Lafarga (2007): 569–570. Furthermore,
‘Hysiaens’ might indicate the inhabitants of Hyettus, in the north of lake Copais, rather
than the inhabitants of Hysiae, near Plataea. Cf. McKechnie-Kern (1988): 157.
44 That τὰ κοινά (l. 409) refers to the federal treasury was first maintained by Glotz (1908):
271–278.
45 P. Oxy. 842 16.2–4.
46 McKechnie-Kern (1988): 157. Cartledge (2000): 397–415. The Thucydidean passage 5.38.2
(‘the boeotarchs communicated these resolutions to the four councils of the Boeotians
which have supreme authority’), which concerns the alliance between Boeotia, Corinth,
Megara and Chalcis of 421/420, led the first editors of the papyrus to misinterpret the
organisation and functions of the federal council, and to assume that the supreme author-
ity rested with the state councils, which Thucydides refers to (and not with the federal
council). Cf. Bruce (1967): 158–159.
47 Thuc. 5.36–38. Orsi (1974): 54–58.
48 Cf. Larsen (1955 a): 1–6.
132 chapter 6

tian federal system, that would have provided a four-council system, in which
each council would have sat in turn.49 This has been thought to be a feature
of a theory-based system, that is to say, the Boeotian confederacy and Athe-
nian four-council plans were ‘part of a more extensive oligarchic movement’
widespread all over Greece.50 Yet, it is difficult to be sure of this, especially
in consideration of the fact that the Aristotelian boule does not always have
full powers (unlike the Boeotian); furthermore, the Athenian oligarchic con-
stitution seems to have preserved deliberative procedures that were typical
of Cleisthenes’ democratic system.51 In addition, the second Athenian league
(378–337bc), that was inspired by the ‘democratic’ principles of autonomia and
eleutheria of Greek cities—which means for each state self-determination in
constitutional and international affairs52—, appears to have modelled its legal
organisation on the federal legal system of the Boeotian confederacy. The pre-
sumable existence of a joint tribunal of the Athenians and the allies (κρινέσθω
ἐν Ἀθην[αίο]ις καὶ τ[οῖς] συμμάχοις)53 seems, in fact, to recall the system of fed-
eral judges mentioned in the ho, who were sent proportionally to the federal
council (16). Note also the mention of the synedroi of the allies in the decree of
the second Athenian league (ll. 43–44), and the technical term, synedria, used
to name the Boeotian councils in the ho (ll. 412–413).54 In speculative terms the
text of the ho might have been a source of inspiration for Aristotle and his cir-
cle;55 yet it may well be that the inspiration came from real life and experiences,
not just from historiographical writings; for the Athenians sought models for
new institutional patterns and solutions to re-affirm in acceptable ways (to
their allies) the city’s ‘renewed’ hegemonic aspirations in the fourth century.
Moreover, including in her second league also federal states, Athens seems to
give her own response to that difficult issue whether federalism might be con-
sistent with the autonomy of city-states.56

49 Arist. ap 30.3. This system was not implemented and was intended for the future (Arist.
ap 31.1).
50 Larsen (1955 b): 47. Cf. Sordi (1968): 74, Lérida Lafarga (2007): 527. Cf. Thuc. 4.76–96.
51 Arist. ap 44–45. Cf. Lanzillotta (2001): 123–124.
52 Accame (1941): 4.
53 Cargill, ll. 57–58. The text of the decree of Aristoteles (second Athenian league) hints at
judicial measures against any violation of the agreement. See tod ghi ii, 123, p. 65.
54 Cf. Bruce (1967): 163, Orsi (1974): 45–48, Cargill (1981); tod ghi ii, 123.
55 Lanzillotta (2001): 123–124. Prof. Dreher pointed me out that the ho’s expression τῆς
ἡ|συχίας καὶ τῆς εἰρήνης καὶ [πρ]οαγαγεῖν ἐπὶ κτλ. of the passage on Athenian polyprag-
mosyne (7.2; see ch. 5.1) recalls closely lines 10–11 of the decree of the second Athenian
league: ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν.
56 Dreher (1995): 171–200; Bearzot (2004): 73–84.
terra marique … 133

For his part, the Oxyrhynchus historian appears as influenced by a political

vocabulary redolent of Thucydides,57 that he uses together with technical terms
typical of Boeotian institutions: not just synedria but also boule and bouleutai
(ll. 412, 433, 405), and not just boiotarchos, boiotarches but also archontes,
archon58 (ll. 394, 399, 404, 408).59 The word ‘boule’ might appear as a generic
word, not technical, for it was used since the Homeric age to indicate any
council of elders.60 Newertheless its use made by Athenian historians61 casts
light on the ambiguity of the meaning of this term. Such an ambiguity is
found, for instance, in Xenophon’s Hellenica. Relating the civil war set off
by the oligarchs of Sicyon (367bc), when the Boeotian confederacy was of
‘democratic’ type,62 the historian narrates the story of the Sicyonian Euphron.
After obtaining a force of mercenaries from Athens, he seized power at Sicyon,
even though a Theban governor still held the acropolis. Realising that so long as
the Thebans were in the acropolis, he could not control the city, he got together
money and went to Thebes to bribe the Thebans and make them banish the
aristocrats from Sicyon. But the Sicyonian oligarchs heard of his plans and set
out for Thebes as well. Here they saw him associating in a most friendly way
with the Theban officials (archontes), and murdered him on the acropolis while
the Theban officials and the council (boule) had been holding a session there.
The officials brought this criminal action before the council, and demanded the
right to inflict on the Sicyonians capital punishment (Hell. 7.3.1–12). According
to Xenophon, thus, a boule and archontes held power at Thebes. If this passage
is referring to the Boeotian federal council (and not to the Theban city-council,
as the majority of scholars maintains),63 then it is clear that those words are not
properly used here. It would rather enforce our suspect that Xenophon might

57 Thucydides uses boule and boulai with reference to the Boeotian confederacy as it was
after 447 (5.38.2).
58 The singular form archon is quite problematic, for it was judged by the first editors a
synonym for boeotarch, but was explained later as ‘arconte federale.’ See Orsi (1974): 45–
48.
59 Cf. Roesch (1965): 126–128, Orsi (1974): 29–30, Lérida Lafarga (2007): 543 and 549ff. At chap-
ter 15.2 the Oxyrhynchus historian calls synedria ton archonton the oligarchic assembly
that sat at Rhodes before the Athenian coup.
60 Hom. Il. 2.53; cf. Od. 3.127.
61 See the Athenian council of 500 created by Cleisthenes (Hdt. 9.5; cf. Aristoph. Vesp. 590,
Antiph. [6] 40), Argos’ council (Hdt. 7.149), and Thebes’ council (Xen. Hell. 5.2.29).
62 The Boeotian confederacy inclines toward oligarchy from 447 to 387/386, while from 378 it
inclines more toward democracy. Cf. above, ch. 3.1, Cartledge (2000): 397–415, Beck (2000):
331–344.
63 Orsi (1987): 125–144.
134 chapter 6

have overstated and emphasised Theban responsibilities (compared to those

of the federal government) throughout his narrative. A reader who applies
to the chapter of the outbreak of the Corinthian war (395 bc, Hell. 3.5) easily
notices that, according to Xenophon, the most responsible for that war were
especially ‘the Thebans’ (3.5.3). But, to be precise, in that period Thebes was
part of the Boeotian confederacy, as it was from 447 bc to 387/386bc, therefore
politically the city could not act alone. Furthermore, with reference to the
period of the ‘democratic’ confederacy (after 378bc), Xenophon uses rarely the
word Boiotoi,64 and in any case he does so without giving the term any political
connotation.65
The ho’s statement ‘depending on the number of its magistrates, each com-
munity shared in the common treasury, paid its taxes, appointed jurymen, and
shared equally (μετεῖχον κτλ. ὁμοίως) in public burdens and benefits’ (16, ll. 408–
411) has been judged as controversial, for the text appears to combine in ‘a
strange and artificial way […] the preponderance of Thebes with the claim to
equal standing.’66 Indeed, the degree of dependency of Boeotian cities is dif-
ficult to define. An attempt of classifying cities from the archaic to the classic
period has been suggested by Hansen, who, according to criteria such as ‘auton-
omy’ and possession of own territory, distinguishes between ‘certainly,’ ‘prob-
ably,’ and ‘possibly’ poleis, and komai.67 Furthermore, he believes that there
existed a sort of hierarchy among poleis, and that the top position was held
by Thebes (sovereign city). Only sovereign cities (‘large’ poleis) would provide
boeotarchs, councillors, soldiers, and jurymen, whereas cities depending on a
sovereign one (‘little’ poleis), and whose territory was comprised within that
large polis, would not be represented in the federal council.68
Though Bruce assumed that also after 427bc, when Thebes controlled four
wards (against the previous two),69 the confederacy was well-balanced in terms

64 Hell. 5.4.34 and 62; 6.1.10; 6.3.19; 6.4.4 and 9; 6.5.23 and 51; 7.4.36; 7.5.4.
65 Hell. 6.4.4 and 9; 6.5.23 and 51; 7.4.36; 7.5.4. Orsi (1987): 125–144.
66 Ehrenberg (1969): 123.
67 Hansen (1996 a): 73–116.
68 Hansen (1996 a): 74–77. In particular, in reference to chapter 16 of the ho, the scholar
maintains that in the period between 446 and 386 Acraephnium, Copae, Chaeronea,
Haliartus, Hyettus (Hysiae?), Lebadea, Orchomenus, Plataea, Coronea, Tanagra, Thebes
and Thespiae were poleis; before 446 also Scolus, Erythrae, Scaphae, and Thisbae were
poleis; so Hansen (1995): 13–63. The issue of local and federal citizenship for small towns
and komai is controversial. Cf. also Lérida Lafarga (2007): 530–531.
69 Thebes would probably gain the right to appoint two further boeotarchs after the capture
of Plataea in 427, so that she controlled two wards for the city, and two for Plataea, Scolus,
terra marique … 135

of administration of power,70 from the ho’ text it is clear that Boeotian policy
was the policy of the ruling party in Thebes.71 In fact the narrator explicitly
ascribes the conflict between Phocians and Boeotians (as well as the Corin-
thian war, 16–18) to the Theban plot of the pro-Athenian group led by Andro-
cleidas and Ismenias; there is also further evidence, coming from the narrative
displacement of the sixteenth and seventeenth chapters, that reinforces this
reading. In a circular way the description of the confederal structure and related
competencies starts with Thebes, which is the first city to be listed among
the eleven divisions (Θηβαῖοι μὲν τέτταρα⟨ς⟩ συνεβάλλοντο, δύο μὲν ὑπὲ[ρ τῆς]|
πόλεως, δύο δὲ ὑπὲρ Πλαταιέων καὶ Σκώλου καὶ Ἐ̣ ρ[̣ υ]θρῶ[ν] | καὶ Σκαφῶν καὶ τῶν
ἄλλων χωρίων τῶν πρότερον | μὲν ἐκείνοις συμπολιτευομένων, τότε δὲ συντε|λούντων
εἰς τὰς Θήβας, 16.3, ll. 394–399), and ends with the statement that the council
and the common assemblies of the Boeotians sat on the Cadmea (τὸ μὲν | οὖν
ἔθνος ὅλον οὕτως ἐπολιτεύετο, καὶ τὰ συνέδρια | {και} τὰ κοινὰ τῶν Βοιωτῶν ἐν τῇ
Καδμείᾳ συνεκά|θιζεν, 16.3, ll. 411–413). Furthermore, the seventeenth chapter,
recalls the preceding (16) by referring to the Theban stasiasmos and adopting
similar phrases (Βοιωτοὶ δὲ καὶ Φωκεῖς τούτου τοῦ θέρους εἰς | πόλεμον κατέστη-
σαν. ἐγένοντο δὲ τῆς ἔχθρας αὐτοῖς | [α]ἴτιοι μάλιστα τῶν ἐν ταῖς Θήβαις τινές· οὐ
γὰρ πολλοῖς | [ἔ]τεσιν πρότερον ἔτυχον εἰς στασιασμὸν οἱ Βοιωτοὶ | προελθόντες, 16.1,
ll. 379–383, and, ἐν δὲ ταῖς Θήβαις ἔτυχον οἱ βέλτιστοι καὶ γνω|ριμώτατοι τῶν πολι-
τῶν, ὥσπερ καὶ πρότερον εἴρη|κα, στασιάζοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους, 17.1, ll. 414–416).
Chapter 17 then goes back to the Decelean times, when another party (pro-
Spartan) controlled Thebes; it ends with a sentence that provides readers with
a synthesis of that deliberate comparison between Boeotian and Theban affairs
which is found throughout the narrative of both chapters 16 and 17: τὰ μὲν ο]ὖν
πράγματα τὰ κατ[ὰ | τὰ]ς Θήβας καὶ τ[ὴν Βοιωτίαν εἶχεν] οὕτως (17.5, ll. 464–
465).
Thebes controlled the places, called choria, that were formerly in the Pla-
taean sympolity (Scolus, Erythrae, Scaphae and some others),72 and that now

Erythrae, Scaphae and some other small towns, which along with Plataea had previously
formed one single state. Bruce (1967): 105 and 158. Cf. Lérida Lafarga (2007): 560ff.
70 Bruce (1967): 163.
71 Demand (1982): 37–38; McKechnie-Kern (1988): 157–158.
72 The period in which these towns became subject to Thebes is difficult to establish.
However, the chapter on the Decelean war (17) gives some help. Here it is told that the
inhabitants of Scolus, Erythrae and Scaphae, ‘as soon as the war between Athens and
Sparta began’ (17.3) and fearing an invasion by Athens, migrated to Thebes along with
peoples of Aulis, Schoenus and Potniae; this has led scholars to suggest 431 or, alternatively,
427 as possible dates for their subjection. Cf. Bruce (1967): 106.
136 chapter 6

were subjected to her (τότε δὲ συντε|λούντων εἰς Θήβας, 16.3). It is interesting

here the use of the word sympoliteia, that—unlike synteleia, which refers to
dependency of a little locality towards a bigger one, without any possibility of
self-determination73—hints at a new concept of federal association made (at
least in programmatic terms) on equal grounds.74 It appears for the first time
in Xenophon’s Hellenica in reference to the Olynthian confederacy75 and gives
us a clue for further considerations. Xenophon provides us, in fact, with precise
information about that federal system and its institutional aspects: federal citi-
zenship and common laws,76 sharing of incomes from markets and harbours,77
shared rights of epigamia and enktesis,78 military alliance.79 In comparison with
the polis-system the koinon has, thus, higher resources, a broader territory, a
stronger military and demographic power. But aside from those guarantees of
shared rights, the issue that a citizen of Acanthus raised before Spartan assem-
bly in the 380s, concerning Olynthus’ menaces against Thracia,80 shows that

73 Sympoliteia and synteleia originally and theoretically refer to distinct political structures,
though in the epoch of the forming of the Boeotian confederacy of 378 they appear rather
as complementary features of the process of political unification of Boeotia. See Beck
(2000): 331–344.
74 Cf. Lérida Lafarga (2007): 565–566. The Greek term used to name federal associations
before the fourth century is ethnos/genos or koinon. Cf. Consolo Langher (1996): viii–
xviii.
75 Xen. Hell. 5.2.12–19. The historian does not distinguish between the foundation of the
confederacy and its expansion in 382. The Chalcidian league existed presumably already
in the archaic period (Arist. Pol. 2.1274 b 23 ss.), but it is attested with certainty in 479 (Hdt.
8.127) and in 432 (Thuc. 1.58.2). See De Salvo (1968): 47–53, Consolo Langher (1996): 11–65.
76 Xen. Hell. 5.2.12.
77 Xen. Hell. 5.2.16.
78 Xen. Hell. 5.2.19.
79 Xen. Hell. 5.2.13.
80 However, Cligenes is aware that, despite the initial imposition suffered by the Chalcid-
ian cities, the federacy might definitely lead all adherent cities to advantageous condi-
tions because of solidarity and reciprocal dependency: ‘the cities which have been forced
against their will to share a common citizenship with Olynthus will soon revolt if they see
that there is any opposition. But this league may not be so easy to dissolve once the var-
ious peoples have become closely bound to each other by intermarriage and by property
relationships (which have been already voted) and once they recognise that it pays to be
on the side of the winner …’ (5.2.18–19). A similar situation is, moreover, envisaged by the
speech that Jason of Pherae delivered to Polydamas of Pharsalus: ‘if you were under com-
pulsion, you would be planning to do all the harm to me you could, and I on my side should
be wanting to keep you as weak as possible. But if I persuade you to join me of your own
accord, obviously we shall both do whatever we can to strengthen each other’ (Hell. 6.1.7).
terra marique … 137

the Chalcidian league was however a coercive system, resulting from the expan-
sionism of Olynthus.81 Was Olynthus, then, like Thebes?
The parallelisms noticed in chapters 16 and 17 of the ho (above) between
Boeotian and Theban affairs might be explained with the narrator’s aim of
distinguishing Boeotian responsibilities from those of Thebes: the federal sys-
tem would have been a very well balanced one if it had not been undermined
internally by the expansion of Thebes. The Thebans’ expansionist goals are,
moreover, well exemplified by their claim to represent the Boeotian confed-
eracy as a whole on more than one occasion, when Greek talks for a common
peace took place in 386, 375, and 371 bc.82 And, for his part, Xenophon is well
aware of Thebes’ hegemonic aspirations, and in particular of her responsibility
in causing the outbreak of the Corinthian war; he expresses a political evalua-
tion which is quite similar to that given by the ho:

In Thebes the leading men were well aware that the Spartans would never
break their treaties with their allies, unless someone committed an act of
war first. They therefore induced the Opuntian Locrians83 to levy money
from some territory of which both they and the Phocians claimed to be
the owners. The Theban view was that, if this happened, the Phocians
would invade Locris, and in this they were quite right.
Hell. 3.5.3

They [those with Androcleidas and Ismenias] thought that it would be

difficult to attack them openly, since neither the Thebans nor the Boeo-
tians would ever be persuaded to make war on the Spartans, who were
supreme in Greece. This was the trick they used to lead them into war:
they persuaded certain men among the Phocians to launch an attack on
the territory of the western Locrians.
P. Oxy. v 842, 18.2

81 Xen. Hell. 5.2.12–19. The contraposition between federal-system and polis-system is ex-
pressed well on a terminological level through the opposition (in Cligenes’ words) be-
tween συμπολιτεία and αὐτοπολῖται. The latter is in fact a hapax indicating the aspirations
of Acanthus to be governed by her own laws: βουλόμεθα μὲν τοῖς πατρίοις νόμοις χρῆσθαι καὶ
αὐτοπολῖται εἶναι (5.2.14). Bearzot (2004): 48–49.
82 In 386 Agesilaus forced the Thebans to concede autonomy to the Boeotian cities. Xen. Hell.
6.3.7–9. In 375 and 371 (before Leuctra) Thebes was excluded from the peace agreements.
Cf. Xen. 6.2.1; 6.3, Diod. 15.38, 15.50.4. Cf. Orsi (1987): 125–144, Bearzot (2004): 93–107. As for
scholarly disagreement on the concept of autonomia in reference to the status of Boeotian
cities, see Keen (1996): 113–125 and Hansen (1996 b), 127–136.
83 The eastern Locrians.
138 chapter 6

It is, thus, possible to infer that the Oxyrhynchus historian is replying to

Xenophon’s evaluation of Theban growth and giving a more detailed account
of the activism of the leading party at Thebes by inserting a broad digression
on the causes of the Corinthian war (16–18). Probably he feels the necessity to
clarify the issue of responsibilities and to distinguish Thebes’ political action
from that of the confederacy.

6.4 Conclusion

The examination conducted thus far gives new evidence on issues pertaining
to sea and land hegemony. The picture drawn in this chapter shows that the
Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon distance themselves from Thucydides’
reading of the Athenian empire and Athens’ hegemonic aspirations.
Historical patterns have changed: Thucydides’ Decelea ~ Sicily pattern,
which is expression of Athenian hegemonic aspirations at sea, is abandoned
and replaced by a new one, that of Decelea ~ Thebes. The association of the
same subject (Decelea) within the account of the outbreak of the Corinthian
war is proof that both the Oxyrhunchus historian and Xenophon give an un-
precedented attention to continental scenarios and related happenings.
The sea is seen as a barrier, a network of communications, a means to iso-
late people, a limit. This conclusion is due to a broad examination of some
historiographical patterns (the sea and the river seen as a barrier, the impor-
tance of thalassocracy, the ‘insulation’ of Athens, etc.); some of them go back a
long way till the Ionic thinkers and characterise several passages of Herodotus’
Histories; others are very telling especially in reference to Thucydides’ view of
Athens. Admittedly, these patterns are still valuable to the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian as well as to Xenophon: the sea has not lost its attractiveness at all, if
Xenophon even mirrors the old-fashioned rhetoric on the importance for a
state to holding sea hegemony. Nonetheless, the sea shows now its ambigu-
ous nuances in connecting and isolating people. The Decelea ~ Thebes pattern
suggests that great attention is addressed to land scenarios; new themes and
subjects emerge as well, such as federations and other forms of continental
power.
terra marique … 139

6.5 Analytical Description of the Toponyms Occurring in the ho

Occurrences:

hellas 3 Orchomenus 1 Magnesia 1

Parnassus (Mount) 1 Miletou Teichos 1
attica Pedieis (the plain 1 Mysia 2
Aegina 3 round) Mysian Olympus 2
Athens 2 Phanotis 1 Paphlagonia 2
Attica 2 Phocis 2 Phrygia (Greater/ 8
Decelea (Attica, 2+1 2 Plataea 1 Hellespontic)
adj. Decelean Potniae 1 Priene 1
war) Scaphae 2 Ryndacus (river) 1
Piraeus (Attica) 1 Schoenus 1 Sangarion 1
Thoricus (Attica) 1 Scolus 2 Sardis 3
Tanagra 1 Thebes (the plain 1
sparta Thebes 7 of, in Asia)
Pylos 1 Thespiae 1
Sparta 1 Thisbae 1 thracia
Amphipolis 1
boeotia asia minor Thasos 1
Acraephnium 1 Apia (the plain of) 1
Aulis 1 Cappadocia 1 ionia, syracuse,
Boeotia 5 Cayster (river and 1 egypt?
Cadmea (Thebes) 1 plain) Caunus (8+2 adj. 8
Chaeronea 1 Celaenae 2 Caunian, with
Copae 1 Cilicia 2 reference to a
Coronea 1 Cius in Mysia 1 river and a lake)
Daulis 1 Dascylium 1 Clazomenae 1
Elatea (the plain 1 Ephesian territory/ 3 Coressus (harbour) 1
round) Ephesus Cyprus 1
Erythrae 2 Gordium 1 Cyzicus 2
Eutresis 1 Hellespont 2 Kilbian (plain) 1
Haliartus 1 Lake Dascylitis 1 Notion 1
Hyampolis 1 Leonton Cephalae 1 Phoenicia 1
Hysiae 1 Lydia 3 Rhodes 4
Lebadea 1 Maeander (river 2 Sinope 1
Locris 2 and plain) Syracuse 1
140 chapter 6

Occurrences grouped according to geographical areas Percentage84

Hellas 3 2.30 %
Attica 11 8.46 %
Sparta 2 1.53 %
Boeotia 45 34.61 %
Asia Minor 45 34.61 %
Thracia 2 1.53 %
Ionia, Syracuse, Egypt? 22 16.92 %

84 The percentage is approximate, since I give only the first two numbers of the decimals.
 chapter 7

Historiography and Hegemony

This chapter arises from the previous and discusses further aspects of Greek
debate about hegemony. There are themes that were shared by both historians
and orators, and there is a common interest in land scenarios and land hegem-
ony that makes the Oxyrhynchus historian’s view very close to Xenophon’s.
Traces of such an interest can be found again, later, in Diodorus Siculus. Might
Diodorus have read his fourth-century sources, directly or indirectly? Do the
three historians reflect the terms of a genuine debate, independently? Both the
possibilities may be true, and the second suggestion, of course, would not be
excluded if the first were right.
Diodorus is particularly important in that he allows us to cast light on the
ho’s historiographical practice: he gives accounts which have parallels in the
ho; he resorts to a kind of vocabulary and uses narative patterns which are
also traceable in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s text. Here we intend to focus on
a particular aspect, that is a certain tendency of Diodorus’ narrative to simplify
the language of politics and to give generic labels (i.e. oligoi ~ polloi) to the
parts at stake in politics. This feature has its roots in Greek historiography,
and especially the Oxyrhynchus historian adopts such a way of simplifying the
language of historiography.

7.1 Sparta, or the Undisputed Hegemony

Xenophon seems to develop the idea that a state holds hegemony only if it holds
sea and land power at the same time. Several instances suggest this assumption.
The historian makes the Spartan Callicratidas say to Conon: ‘I am going to put
a stop to your fornication with the sea. It belongs to me’ (Hell. 1.6.15).1 The
fact the Sparta has sea and land control is clearly brought out by the case of
Corcyra (375bc): ‘the Corcyreans were now in a desperate position. Because
of the enemy’s superiority on land, they were getting no food in from their
farms, and because of his naval superiority they were importing nothing by

1 In the harbour of Mytilene (Lesbos) Conon is cut off from land and stopped at sea by Callic-
ratidas (Hell. 1.6.16–19). It seems that the Spartans have fulfilled their hegemonic potential:
this is testified by the dispute over leadership on sea that arose between Callicratidas and
Lysander’s friends (Hell. 1.6.4–6).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_008

142 chapter 7

sea’ (Hell. 6.2.8). Even after the Spartans lost their sea hegemony in the battle
of Cnidus (394 bc), they continued to be perceived as a menace at sea by the
Athenians: ‘it now (390 bc) appeared to the Athenians (νομίσαντες) that the
Spartans were once again growing powerful on the sea …’ (Hell. 4.8.25). Echoes
of this theme can be found in Isocrates and in later writers. The orator says
in his Panathenaicus that the Spartans ‘made peace with the man who had
led an army against them and who had purposed to annihilate both these
cities utterly and to enslave the rest of the Hellenes—with such a man, I
repeat, though they could easily have conquered him on both land and sea, they
drew up a peace for all time …’ (157–158).2 Polybius, listing the states that
contended for sypremacy in Greece, mentions Sparta as the only power which
held an undisputed hegemony (ἀδήριτος), consisting in land and sea control.3
Furthermore, Spartan victory at Aegospotami is recalled by Diodorus as one
that happened both on land and at sea.4
In Xenophon’s discussion about hegemony one suggestion is particularly
striking: it is easy especially for a land power to get control over sea; sea
hegemony to some extent appears as a ‘natural consequence’ of holding land
power. This is what the argumentation of Jason of Pherae shows:

10. As for the Athenians, I am quite sure that they also would do anything
to become allies of ours, but I myself am not in favour of entering into
friendly relations with them, because, in my view, I should find it even
easier to take over power on sea than on land, 11. and I think that the fol-
lowing considerations will show you that my calculations are reasonable.
It is from Macedonia that the Athenians get their timber, and, with Mace-
donia under our control, we shall clearly be able to build many more ships
than they can. And as for manning these ships, it seems reasonable to sup-
pose that here, too, we, with our large population of first-rate serfs, will be
in a better position than the Athenians. The same is true with regard to
supplying the crews. Is it not likely that we, who have so much corn that
we export it abroad, shall be better able to do this than the Athenians,
who have not even enough for themselves unless they buy it elsewhere?
12. Financially, too, it seems clear that we shall be in the stronger position;
we do not look to wretched little islands for our revenues but can draw
upon the races of a continent; for, once there is a Lord of Thessaly, all the

2 The peace of Antalcidas (386).

3 Polyb. 1.2.3. Cf. Diod. 14.10.1 and 13.1.
4 Diod. 11.60; Plut. Mor. 464 e.
historiography and hegemony 143

peoples around us pay tribute. And I am sure you know that the reason
why the King of Persia is the richest man on earth is that he gets his
revenue from a continent and not from islands. Yet I think that it would
be easier to subdue him than to subdue Greece. For I know that in Persia
everybody except for one man is educated to be a slave rather than to
stand up for himself, and I know to what extremities the King was brought
by comparatively small forces—the one that marched with Cyrus and the
one with Agesilaus.5
Hell. 6.1.10–12

The passage is part of a more extensive speech (6.1.1–16) that Polydamas of

Pharsalus delivered at Sparta, as proxenos of that city. His town was menaced by
the expansionism of Jason of Pherae, which was directed against the Thessalian
koinon, therefore Polydamas asked Sparta for help. This extract offers a speech
that Jason had previously delivered to Polydamas (a speech within another
speech). Jason’s argumentation emphasises the superiority of a land power, in
terms of number of populace, military resources, supplies and control over sea.
According to this view, being no more than a sea power means weakness, the
necessity of importing supplies and raw materials, and dependence on poor
islands.
Polydamas makes clear Jason’s political aims around 375bc:6 to get support
from Pharsalus and the cities depending on her in order to become tagos of
Thessaly.7 Polydamas goes back home without the Spartan support he has
asked for, and after the battle of Leuctra (371 bc) Jason will be elected as tagos.8
At that time Jason goes to Boeotia and, as ally of Thebes, plays the role of
moderator between the parties at stake (Thebes and the anti-Theban coalition),

5 Transl. by R. Warner.
6 Sordi (1958): 169–177; Momigliano (1966): 424 f. Some scholars assign the speech to 371. So
Accame (1941): 93 ff.; Mazzarino (1966): 367–368.
7 Xen. Hell. 6.1.8. It is not clear whether the subjection of Macedonia has happened at the time
in which the speech is delivered, or whether it is rather a plan for the future: we find in fact
the present participle ἔχοντες μέν γε Μακεδονίαν … πολὺ δήπου πλείους ἐκείνων [the Athenians]
ἱκανοὶ ἐσόμεθα ναῦς ποιήσασθαι (Xen. Hell. 6.1.11). Isocrates speaks of a temporary control over
Macedonia by Thessaly ([5] 20). Cf. Arr. An. 7.9.4. What is clear from Jason’s own words is that
he has already got numerous Thessalian and Epirotan allies, as well as an alliance with the
Boeotian confederacy (Xen. Hell. 6.1.5; 7; 10).
8 Xen. Hell. 6.1.18; 7.4.28. In 373 Jason is symmachos of Athens (Dem. [49] 10); but the alliance is
soon broken (cf. Polyaen. Strat. 3.9.40 on a presumable truce between Jason and Iphicrates),
and Jason’s name is erased from the stele of Nausinicus. Cargill (1981): 84ff.
144 chapter 7

discouraging all from further fighting.9 His policy recalls that of the Persian
King in the past: Jason prevents Thebes from annihilating Sparta ‘with the aim
of keeping the two powers in opposition so that each one of them should need
his help’ (Hell. 6.4.25). And indeed, Jason’s later plans of invading Greece seem
to be foreshadowed in Polydamas’ speech: ‘Yet I [ Jason] think that it would
be easier to subdue him than to subdue Greece’ (6.1.12). Jason is very close to
the fulfillment of his plans against Greece when, returning from Leuctra, he
destroys Heraclea’s fortifications; an explicit satement about Jason’s goals is
made by the narrator (6.4.27):

Clearly this was not because he was under any apprehension that, with
this pass open, anyone might march against his own dominions; what he
really had in mind was the possibility of some power seizing Heraclea
and her narrow pass and so being able to impede him from marching
wherever he wanted to in Greece.

The pre-eminent personality of Jason probably drew the attention of Xeno-

phon’s contemporaries, and this may explain why Xenophon felt the necessity
to digress from his main narrative for an entire chapter to make Jason explain
his motivations through his own words (Hell. 6.1.19). Jason’s story shows well
that the old dualism Athens-Sparta is to be abandoned. This is a very good
point, because it appears to contradict the Thucydidean rhetoric concerning
the importance of being a sea power that we have just found in the last two
books of Xenophon’s Hellenica (see above, ch. 6).
Yet there is no contradiction if we approach the issue in different terms.
In the fourth century both historians and orators used historiographical pat-
terns which did not necessarily fit specific circumstances and/or audiences.
Greek debate about the preeminence of a sea power or a land power gave life
to various patterns on the issue of hegemony. Let us take the cases of Lysias10
and Isocrates:11 they continue to emphasise the theme of an enduring superi-
ority of Athens due to her control over sea; this theme is not actual anymore
in the fourth century and echoes closely Herodotus’ arguments.12 Or think of
Xenophon who makes the unrealistic old Cimonian rhetoric revive. It becomes
important thus to question to what degree events overturned those paradigms,

9 Xen. Hell. 6.4.20–25; Diod. 15.54.5.

10 [2] 44.
11 [4] 93–94; 98; 139–141.
12 Hdt. 7.139 and 9.7.11.
historiography and hegemony 145

and how the Athenian audience still thought about them. For there is a mis-
match between events and the representations that both historians and ora-
tors made of them. Perhaps the most striking proof of this mismatch is to be
found in Isocrates’ Panegyricus, which in the 380s exhorts Athens to lead a
crusade against the Persians.13 Given the King’s peace (peace of Antalcidas,
386bc) and the fact that Athens is at the head of a panhellenic alliance—the
second Athenian league—made in respect of that peace agreement, Isocrates’
protreptic statements appear highly unfitting to his times in terms of feasibil-
ity.
The last part of Xenophon’s Hellenica (from book 6.3 to book 7.1) forms
what scholars have called the ‘Athenian section,’ an account mainly focused on
Athens, which emphasises the hope for a rapprochement between Athens and
Sparta.14 This section offers that ‘national’ characterisation of Athens as a city
that thanks to her magnanimity assists the wronged and oppressed, victims
of aggressions; the topic is in fact redolent of the image of the city given by
Herodotus in his eight book.15 The speeches contained in this Athenian section
have been widely studied, and two main approaches have been taken: scholars
have debated whether they fit the occasion in which they are delivered, and
thus whether they are reliable from a historical and political perspective;16
differently, the speeches have been considered as expression of Xenophon’s
moral and philosophical outlook.17 Most scholars agree that the notion that
Athens and Sparta ought to share hegemony would reflect Xenophon’s own
political view: from being an ardent supporter of Sparta the historian would
gradually have come to cherish the idea of an Atheno-Spartan co-operation;
he would give Athens the credit for this new political agenda.18
Yet, the two speeches delivered by Procles of Phlius that come from this
presumed Athenian section (Hell. 6.5.38–48 and 7.1.1–11) show at best the extent
of that mismatch between politics and historiographical representations of
them. The register adopted sets straight how unrealistic that rhetoric of co-
operation is when measured against the realities of the 370s, and this also
makes it hard to assume that the proposal of co-operation between Athens and

13 Cf. Flower (2000): 65–101.

14 Schepens (2001 b): 81.
15 Hdt. 8.142.3. Cf. Gray (1989): 110–111.
16 Cf. Schepens (2001 b): 81–96. This section has been also studied according to the per-
spective of historiographical intertextuality: Marincola (2011): 1–31, Baragwanath (2012):
317–341, Pelling (2013 b): 13–16.
17 Gray (1989): 112–131.
18 Cf. Schepens (2001 b): 96. See also Luppino-Manes (2000): 161–192.
146 chapter 7

Sparta, in the form of its historiographical representation, was one supported

warmly by Xenophon himself.19 For the true course of events will not see an
enduring development of that policy of rapprochement; although immediately
after the first speech of Procles was delivered the Athenians decided to send
Iphicrates to the Peloponnese in aid of Sparta (once the Thebans had invaded
the Peloponnese after the battle of Leuctra20), nevertheless his intervention
resulted in utter failure (Hell. 6.5.49–52). Furthermore, after the second speech
delivered by Procles, though the Athenians were initially enthusiastic about
his proposal (the Athenians, having command of the sea, should turn over
the Spartans the supreme command on land), nonetheless they voted for an
unrealistic proposal: Cephisodotus suggested to Sparta and Athens to share
hegemony in turn for five days each (Hell. 7.1.12–14). So a further question is to
be raised now, that is, how might Xenophon’s contemporary readers respond
to that rhetoric?
Procles’ speeches (Hell. 6.5.38–48 and 7.1.1–11) are delivered within a short
distance of time and on the occasion of two meetings, the one more informal,21
the other formalising the alliance between Athens and Sparta.22 The speeches
should be read together as a rhetorical piece written according to a model
drawn from epideictic oratory.23 The first speech contains in fact exempla from
the Athenian mythical and ‘national’ tradition, while the second offers realistic-
pragmatic hints to pursue a real policy.
The pragmatic section occupies Procles’ second speech. It suggests that
Athens and Sparta should share the supreme command, but this appears highly
unrealistic and anachronistic and recalls closely the Cimonian rhetoric of the
lame Greece without one of the two legs (Athens and Sparta),24 as well as

19 Cf. Luppino-Manes (2000): 179.

20 The Athenians called a meeting of the assembly according to a resolution of their council
because they were concerned about the Spartans. It happened that there were Spartan
and other Peloponnesian ambassadors in Athens who could attend the meeting and make
their view known.
21 Xen. Hell. 6.5.33–48.
22 Xen. Hell. 7.1.1–114.
23 Luppino-Manes (2000): 168.
24 Plutarch, quoting the poet Ion of Chios as his source, relates that Cimon on the occasion
of Sparta’s request for aid to Athens against her helots in revolt (the third Messenian war)
exhorted his citizens ‘not to suffer Hellas to be crippled (χωλήν), nor their city to be robbed
of her yoke-fellow (ἑτερόζυγα)’ (Cim. 16.8). The metaphor χωλός-ἑτερόζυξ is well known to
Aeschylus. He uses it in the Persians with reference to the two women (symbolising Greece
and Persia) under Xerxes’ yoke, who appeared in Atossa’s dream (Pers. 181–197). The notion
of a dual hegemony, which Athens and Sparta ought to share always standing together and
historiography and hegemony 147

Leptines’ warning of a blind Greece if deprived of one of the two eyes (Athens
and Sparta).25 For the Athenians on sea would risk their wives, children, and
the entire state, just as much as the Spartans would if they met with one defeat
on land (Hell. 7.1.6–7, and 10). The Cimonian idea of a concerted action between
the two cities is, moreover, foreshadowed, even before Procles’ speech, by the
words of the Spartan ambassadors (6.5.34):

They referred to those happy days when the two were acting in concert,
reminding their audience of how together they had driven back the Per-
sians and of how, when Athens was chosen by the Greeks to be the leader
of the naval forces and the guardian of the common funds, Sparta had sup-
ported this decision; and of how Athens on her side had given her support
to the unanimous choice of all the Greeks that Sparta should act as leader
by land.

This sense of political unrealism contributes to the intellectual climate into

which the proposal fits, hinting at a teleological vision of history. Procles’ belief,
‘this division of responsibility seems to be not merely a human expedient but
something ordained by providence and by the way things are’ (Hell. 7.1.2),
is followed by two sections of parallel narration that deploy a spectrum of
arguments, first for Athens’ leadership at sea, then for Sparta’s land control.
In favour of Athens’ sea command are her coastal position and proximity to
weaker naval powers (islands), the harbours, the fleet, the tradition of seaman-
ship, and the experience (7.1.3–7). For the Spartans’ leadership Procles gives as
arguments their inland position, their education system designed to produce
soldiers, their training in obedience, their ability to muster a big force quickly,
and the attraction of this for their allies (7.1.8–11). It looks as if the future, which
here means resilience and salvation, is something that has been pre-ordered by
both gods and nature.
The timeless character of this speech brings it close to the epideictic gen-
re,26 and along with the mythical exempla that occur in Procles’ first speech
(6.5.45–47) takes it back to a broader repertory of Athenian praxeis, presum-
ably stimulated by the outcome of the Persian wars: these deeds were recalled

protecting each other as the true leaders of Hellas (Hdt. 9.26–28 and 60), dates after the
battle of Plataea (479bc) and is consistent with the Cimonian ideology (462bc) traceable
in Plutarch’s passage. Flower (2000): 80 ff. Cf. also Pelling (2007 a): 95–96.
25 Arist. Rhet. 1411 a 4 f.
26 On the issue concerning literary genres in ancient times see Marincola (1999): 281–324.
148 chapter 7

by historians,27 philosophers,28 poets,29 and orators30 in both epideictic and

funeral speeches.31 They form a sort of mythical ‘catalogue’ which includes
a mythical pattern and a historical component. The mythical pattern is sub-
stantially unaltered through time: the Amazons (sometimes associated with
Eumolpus’ Thracians), Adrastus, and the Heraclides; the historical component
accommodates changes in the course of time, nevertheless it constantly begins
by mentioning the Persian wars.32
Procles’ first speech (6.5.38–48) can be divided in three sub-sections. The
first consists of an acute political analysis about the realistic danger of a Theban
attack against Athens once Sparta is out of the way (38–40). Here there is
much deeper awareness of political realites in comparison with some chapters
later, where Procles proposes the rhetorical image of ‘Athens-island’ (7.1.3). The
notion of self-interest and advantage is the key for reading this first sub-section:
συμφορώτερόν γε μεντἂν ὑμῖν αὐτοῖς βοηθήσαιτε ἐν ᾧ ἔτι εἰσὶν οἳ συμμαχοῖεν ἂν
ἢ εἰ ἀπολομένων αὐτῶν μόνοι ἀναγκάζοισθε διαμάχεσθαι πρὸς τοὺς Θηβαίους …
(‘Also it would be more to your interest to help yourselves while there are still
people to fight at your side than to wait until your potential allies are destroyed,
and then be forced to fight the final battle against the Thebans entirely by
yourselves’). Afterwards, the exemplum of Thermopylae is introduced to show
Spartan fidelity to the alliance with Athens (second sub-section, 41–44). Finally
Athens appears as the city that helps the victims of injustice (third sub-section,
45–47):

46. Now that is a fine story that is told about your ancestors—that they
refused to allow the Argives who died in the famous expedition against
the Cadmea to remain unburied. But you would be doing something finer
still in not allowing these living Spartans either to be humbled or to be
destroyed. 47. That was a fine action, too, of yours when you checked the
arrogance of Eurystheus and saved the lives of the sons of Heracles; but it
would be a finer one still if you saved not only the founders of the state
but the whole state as well. […]

27 Hdt. 9.27. Cf. Kierdorf (1966): 100–104, Loraux (2006): 103–117, Todd (2007): 149–157.
28 Plat. Menex. 239 b–c.
29 Aeschylus’ Persians and Euripides’ Heraclides and Suppliant Women. Cf. Macleod (1983):
140–158. Pelling (1997 b): 213–234, Bowie (1997): 39–62.
30 Lys. [2] 11–19; Dem. [60] 8; Isocr. [4] 54–70. Cf. Isocr. [6] 16–43.
31 Kierdorf (1966): 83–110. The scholar does not clarify what exactly he means with the
expression ‘Tradition des Katalogs der athenischen πράξεις’ (p. 84), whether a written or
an oral tradition.
32 Kierdorf (1966): 90.
historiography and hegemony 149

The myth of the Heraclides shows that as in the past Athens had already
saved the Spartans’ ancestors, now again the Athenians intend to renew that
ancient friendship by helping the Heraclides’ descendants menaced by Thebes
(45–48). Moreover, as in Isocrates’ speeches,33 also here the two mythical ac-
counts (of the Seven against Thebes and of the Heraclides) suggest that after
the Persian wars the Athenians helped Greek peoples against other Greek
peoples in the common cause of freedom. Despite the fact that the myth of
the Amazons (who at the head of the Scythians were trying to extend their
dominion over Europe) belongs to that mythical pattern (Amazons-Adrastus-
Heraclides), here it has been omitted; it presumably does not suit Xenophon’s
argumentation. In fact the myth of the Amazons might be understood by
Greek audiences as recalling the two Persian invasions of Greece; it may also
foreshadow new Persian attacks on Athens and Greece: this myth supports the
idea that the Athenians alone acted in behalf of all Greeks.34 But Xenophon
is mainly concerned with the theme of a common cause of Greeks against
other Greeks (Athenians and Spartans against Thebans). Thus the theme of
the Persian wars, though mentioned, is differently conceived: it is reduced to
the sole historical sample of Thermopylae to demonstrate Sparta’s reliability in
making effective the envisaged common co-operation (41–44).
History, tragedy, and oratory agree that Athenian generosity and compas-
sion for the weak and oppressed are chief features of the ‘character’ of Athens.
History and Attic oratory in dealing with that mythical pattern (Amazons-
Adrastus-Heraclides), tend to replace the national heroes of Athens’ remote
past with a collective subject, ‘the Athenians.’ The ethnonym might be felt by
the Athenian audience as closer to it than national heroes, hinting, as it does, at
recent events. Perhaps a sort of civic ideology developed too, as we can deduce
from the epitaphios logos.35 Athenian funeral speeches, celebrating the war-
dead, tend indeed to praise the city as a whole rather than any individuals.
So whereas, for instance, in Euripides’ play the war between Athens and Eleu-
sis culminates in the tragic disappearance of the Athenian king Erechtheus,36

33 See below.
34 Isocr. [4] 68; Lys. [2] 21; Aeschyl. Pers. 233; Dem. [60] 10.
35 On the issue of how tragedy and epitaphioi logoi fitted into the Athenian civic ideology cf.
Pelling (1997 b): 224–235 and Bowie (1997): 52.
36 Frr. 351–361 Nauck. In mythical times Athens went to war against Eleusis, which appealed
to the Thracian king Eumolpus, son of Poseidon. The Athenian king Erechtheus killed
Eumolpus in battle, but Poseidon to take revenge on that fact made the ground split with
his trident, so that Erechtheus was swallowed up by earth. Cf. Lycurg. [1] 98; Isocr. [12] 193;
Demar. FGrHist 42, f 4. Cf. Austin (1967): 11–67.
150 chapter 7

orators celebrate the heroic behaviour of the Athenians before Eumolpus’ Thra-
cians, without mentioning the name of the former king of Athens.37 It is the
Athenians who gave the Heraclides decisive help and not the mythical king
Demophon who is celebrated in Euripides’ Heraclides;38 and it is again Athens,
and not the mythical king Theseus, that won glory in the war against the Ama-
zons or recovered the bodies of the seven chiefs fallen at Thebes.39 Further-
more, the oration that, according to Herodotus, the Athenians delivered just
before the battle of Plataea40 lists a collection of inspiring mythical examples
which fitted Athenian civic ideology; these themes are found also in fourth-
century funeral speeches, and in particular in Lysias’Funeral Oration and Plato’s
Menexenus, as well as in Isocrates’ Panegyricus:41

Let us start with the Heraclides, whose champion the Tegeans remind us
they killed on the Isthmus; all the Heraclides were doing was trying to
avoid being enslaved by the Mycenaeans, but every Greek state to which
they came refused them shelter, until we took them in; and then with their
help we put an end to the brutal reign of Eurystheus, once we had defeated
the armies of the people who inhabited the Peloponnese in those days. In
the second place, let us take the Argives who had marched against Thebes
with Polynices, and who lay there dead and unburied; it is our proud claim
to have marched against the Cadmeans, recovered the bodies, and buried
them in our own land, in Eleusis. Then there was the successful campaign
of ours against the Amazons when they came from the river Thermodon
and invaded Attica.42 […]
hdt. 9.27

Aristotle considers the Athenian support for the Heraclides as one of three
mandatory themes in an Athenian eulogy of Athens, in a sentence which puts
the Heraclides third after the battles of Salamis and Marathon.43 Surely at the
time in which Xenophon wrote his audience no longer found the myth dis-

37 Isocr. [4] 68–70; Dem. [60] 8.

38 Lys. [2] 11–16; Isocr. [4] 54–60; Dem. [60] 8.
39 Lys. [2] 4–6; Isocr. [4] 54–60; Dem. [60] 8; Plut. Thes. 26ff.; 29.4–5; Paus. 1.2.1; Euripides’
Suppliant Women; Diod. 4.28; cf. 4.57.6.
40 This leaves no doubt to the ancient character of this pattern that spread at least as early
as 430, that is when Herodotus’ Histories was presumably published.
41 Todd (2007): 152–153.
42 Transl. by R. Waterfield.
43 Arist. Rhet. 2.22.6, 1396 a 12–14.
historiography and hegemony 151

quieting in the way that about half a century before the audience of Lysias’
Funeral Oration did. In Lysias’ times the myth offers ambiguous nuances, for
it hints at the link between the sons of Heracles and the Spartans and their
the role played during the Peloponnesian war (‘they [the Athenians] could not
know what sort of men the boys themselves [the Spartans] were going to turn
out to be,’ 2.13). Nor would Xenophon’s audience see any longer the Euripi-
dean paradox that Eurystheus’ Argives might eventually be allies,44 while the
descendants of those Heraclides would turn into bitter and ungrateful foes.45
Now Xenophon’s audience had probably in mind the most recent happenings
after Leuctra that led Messene to regain her independence, and that made the
myth of the return of the Heraclides resound in Isocrates’ Archidamus (16–33,
364bc). The peace talks of 367bc between Thebes and some Peloponnesian
states intended to impose the acceptance of Messene’s independence to the
other Peloponnesians. Disposed to comply with this demand a few Pelopon-
nesians, led by the Corinthians, met in congress at Sparta to urge a different
course.46 Isocrates chose Sparta as the setting of his Archidamus. Archidamus,
the son of the ruling king Agesilaus, rose in the assembly exhorting the Spartans
to die rather than to abandon Messene, their rightful and hereditary posses-
sion, since the Heraclides had offered them that land. A clear echo of this is
found in a passage of Xenophon’s Hellenica which refers to the same talks: ‘but
for themselves, they [the Spartans] said they would never submit to the loss of
Messene—the land handed down to them by their fathers’ (Hell. 7.4.9).47
It seems thus plausible that Xenophon is influenced by rhetorical topoi cir-
culating in his times and shares with Isocrates some of the main themes of
the Panegyricus and Archidamus. In the Panathenaicus (343 bc) a Spartan sym-
pathiser and ex-pupil of Isocrates blames the master for having restricted the

44 But for a different audience Eurystheus might have been standing as proxy for the Pelo-
ponnesian league and, thus, for Sparta (‘Eurystheus, together with those who at that time
controlled the Peloponnese,’ Lys. [2] 13). Cf. Todd (2007): 224.
45 Eurip. Heracl. 1032–1036. Cf. Pelling (1997 b): 227.
46 Xen. Hell. 7.4.1–11. Cf. Malkin (1994): 33–45.
47 The myth of the Heraclides seems to retain its popularity still in the epoch of Philip.
According to an inscription of the Achaean league, after the battle of Chaeronea (338bc)
Philip was presumably involved in an arbitration between Sparta and Megalopolis on the
Sciritis and the Aegytis, which in the inscription are said to belong to the Arcadians since
the return of the Heraclides: κ[αὶ ὅτι ἔκριν]αν οἱ δικασταὶ [γενέσθαι τὰν Σκιρ]ῖτιν καὶ τὰν
Αἰγῦτιν Ἀρ[κάδων ἀπὸ] τοῦ τοὺς Ἡρακλείδας εἰς [Π]ελοπόννασον κατελθεῖν. This is however
the hypothesis of the editor, for the name of Philip is missing; see Piérart (2001): 27–41 and
Syll. 665, ll. 34–35.
152 chapter 7

topics of his argumentation to Athens alone, and for having told those fables
which fall easily from the lips of everyone (εἰ μὲν περὶ μόνης αὐτῆς ποιήσει τοὺς
λόγους καὶ τὰ μυθώδη περὶ αὐτῆς ἐρεῖς ἃ πάντες θρυλοῦσιν, 237). It is clear that
the ex-pupil refers here to the stories concernig Eumolpus’ Thracians, the Ama-
zons, and Eurystheus which Isocrates has just mentioned a few chapters before
(193–194).48 That mythic pattern, which appears also in the Panegyricus (56–60
and 68–70), offers themes that presumably were over-stressed by contempo-
rary orators: the Spartan sympathiser says that Isocrates’ speech appears sim-
ilar to speeches composed by others (ὅμοια φανεῖται τὰ λεγόμενα τοῖς ὑπὸ τῶν
ἄλλων γεγραμμένοις, 237).

7.2 Diodorus and the Debate on Hegemony

The terms of Greek debate on collaborative developments recur again in Dio-

dorus. This might be explained either with the fact that Diodorus derived
directly or indirectly from the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon, or with
the assumption that all independently mirror the terms of a genuine debate.49
In fact, although the possibility for an enduring Atheno-Spartan co-operation
demonstrated to be highly unrealistic in the 370s, the debate on sharing hegem-
ony, which presumably originated soon after the end of the Persian wars, still
continues to be a matter of great importance in the fourth century bc and later.
The speech that the ephorus Endius (Diod. 13. 52–53) delivered at Athens
after the Spartan defeat of Cyzicus (410 bc) contains a peace proposal which
depicts Athens’ internal politics in a similar way as the ho does.50 We have
already drawn attention (chh. 4.4 and 5.1) to a section of Diodorus’ account of
the defeat of Cyzicus (13.53.1–2) and noticed a sort of bipolar configuration of
the Athenian political debate which finds parallels in a passage of the ho on

48 For the narrative devices used in the Panathenaicus see Gray: (1994 a), 223–271 and (1994
b): 99, note 14. See also Appendix, 2. History, Oratory and Their Audiences.
49 Cf. Diod. 13.52.3–8. See also 11.50.1–8: in a meeting of the assembly the younger men of
Sparta in 475bc claimed that Sparta ought to hold both sea and land hegemony. They
reminded the assembly of an ancient oracle that had warned Sparta to be aware of a lame
hegemony, without sea or land power (Diod. 11.50.4). This passage might even adumbrate
a pre-Cimonian ideal which dates back to the epoch of the Persian wars (cf. Hdt. 3.3 and
9.27).
50 Cf. Ruschenbusch (1981): 316–326, Sacks (1990): 93 and (1994): 213–232. Pesely (1985):
320–321 maintains that Endius’ speech echoes that of Pericles (Thuc. 1.140–144). Cf. also,
Parmeggiani (2011): 468, note 337.
historiography and hegemony 153

Athenian politics: Diodorus’ οἱ μὲν ἐπιεικέστατοι … οἱ δὲ πολεμοποιεῖν εἰωθότες

καὶ τὰς δημοσίας ταραχὰς ἰδίας ποιούμενοι … and the Oxyrhynchus historian’s
γνώ]ριμ[οι καὶ χα|ρίεντες / ἐπ⟨ι⟩εικεῖς καὶ τὰς οὐσίας ἔχοντες / πολλοὶ καὶ δημοτικοὶ
(P. Oxy. v 842, 6.2–3).
Similarly, Endius’ words appear to recall some of the themes which are
common to the arguments given by both Procles and Jason in Xenophon’s
Hellenica, such as (a) the idea that for Athens safety/ruin comes entirely from
the sea, (b) the topic of the poverty of islands, and the notion that (c) land
hegemony is more profitable than sea control:

(a) ὑμεῖς δὲ τῆς θαλάττης ἐκβληθέντες οὐχ ὑπὲρ ἡγεμονίας πεζῆς, ἀλλ’ ὑπὲρ ἀνα-
στάσεως ἀγωνιᾶτε / ‘if you are driven from the sea, contend, not for the
supremacy on land, but for survival’ (Diod. 13.52.6) ~ ὅτι ἐκ τῆς θαλάττης
ἅπασα ὑμῖν ἤρτηται σωτηρία / ‘all your safety depends upon the sea’ (Pro-
cles, Xen. Hell. 7.1.6)
ὑμεῖς δὲ πολίτας ἔχετε τοὺς πλείστους ἐν ταῖς ναυσίν / ‘you have on board
crews most of whom are citizens’ (Diod. 13.52.6) ~ ἀλλὰ μὴν τὰς γε τέχνας
τὰς περὶ ταῦτα πάσας οἰκείας ἔχετε / ‘you likewise possess as peculiarly your
own all the arts and crafts which have to do with ships’ (Procles, Xen. Hell.
7.1.4)
(b) ὑμῖν δὲ οἱ πενιχρότατοι τῶν κατὰ τὴν οἰκουμένην / ‘for you the most poverty-
stricken people of the inhabited world’ (Diod. 13.52.4) ~ καὶ χρήμασί γε
εἰκὸς δήπου ἡμᾶς ἀφθονωτέροις χρῆσθαι μὴ εἰς νησύδρια ἀποβλέποντας, ἀλλ’
ἠπειρωτικὰ ἔθνη καρπουμένους / ‘then as for money, we surely should be
likely to enjoy a greater abundance of it, for we should not be looking to
little islands for our revenues, but drawing upon the resources of peoples
of the continent’ (Jason, Xen. Hell. 6.1.12)51
(c) ἡμεῖς μὲν ἅπασαν τὴν Πελοπόννησον γεωργοῦμεν … / ‘as for us, we till the
entire Peloponnese’ (Diod. 13.52.4) and ἔπειθ’ ἡμεῖς μὲν κατὰ θάλατταν
πολεμοῦντες σκάφεσι πολιτικοῖς μόνον κινδυνεύομεν, ὑμεῖς δὲ πολίτας ἔχετε
τοὺς πλείστους ἐν ταῖς ναυσίν. τὸ δὲ μέγιστον, ἡμεῖς μὲν κἂν κρατηθῶμεν ἐν τοῖς
κατὰ θάλατταν πράγμασι, τήν γε κατὰ γῆν ἡγεμονίαν ὁμολογουμένως ἔχομεν /
‘in the second place, when we make war at sea, we risk losing only hulls
among resources of the state, while you have on board crews most of
whom are citizens. And, what is the most important, even if we meet
defeat in our actions at sea, we still maintain without dispute the mastery

51 Cf. Xen. Hell. 7.1.3: πλεῖσται γὰρ πόλεις τῶν δεομένων τῆς θαλάττης περὶ τὴν ὑμετέραν πόλιν
οἰκοῦσι, καὶ αὗται πᾶσαι ἀσθενέστεραι τῆς ὑμετέρας.
154 chapter 7

on land’ (Diod. 13.52.6) ~ [the Spartans] οἰκοῦσιν ἐν μεσογαίᾳ· ὥστε τῆς γῆς
κρατοῦντες καὶ εἰ θαλάττης εἴργοιντο, δύναιντ’ ἂν καλῶς διαζῆν / ‘they dwell in
the interior; hence, so long as they are masters of the land, they can lead a
comfortable existence even if they are shut off from the sea’ (Procles, Xen.
Hell. 7.1.8)

The similarities between the two authors are striking, especially in reference
to the opinion that even though Sparta suffered loss at sea, nevertheless the
city would continue to flourish (κατὰ γῆν ἡγεμονίαν ὁμολογουμένως ἔχομεν/ἂν
καλῶς διαζῆν). In addition, the opposition ἡμεῖς/ὑμεῖς in Endius’ speech, which
is often set in a strong position at the beginning of the sentence, aims to impress
Endius’ audience with the natural order of things (recalling perhaps Procles’
claim ἐμοὶ δὲ καὶ αὐτῷ δοκεῖ ταῦτα οὐκ ἀνθρωπίνῃ μᾶλλον ἢ θείᾳ φύσει τε καὶ τύχῃ
διωρίσθαι, Hell. 7.1.2)—that is, the weakness of a sea hegemon contrasted with
the superiority of a land power—and, thus, to persuade the Athenians to come
to terms with Sparta.
The uncertainty about chronology (410/409 bc according to Diodorus,
411/410bc for Philochorus,52 or 408/407 bc according to Androtion53) makes it
difficult to understand the precise mood of the times which Endius’ proposal
refers to. Furthermore, Aristotle’s evidence makes things more complicated,
since it assigns the episode to a different moment, that is, the aftermath of
the battle of Arginusae (406 bc, ap 34.1–2).54 Scholars have judged Diodorus’
and Aristotle’s accounts as very close in reference to the idea of making peace
and maintaining the status quo,55 the intervention of the Athenian demagogue,
Cleophon, against Endius’ proposal, and the disastrous effects of the Athenian
decision to refuse that alliance.56 However, it would not be surprising if the

52 FGrHist 328, f 139.

53 FGrHist 324, f 44. Cf. Luppino-Manes (2000): 139ff. is inclined to accept Androtion’s dating,
especially in consideration of the fact that only after Spartan conquest of Megaris (Diod.
13.65.1) could Sparta return Decelea to Athens, as Endius’ speech suggests, τὰ δὲ φρούρια
τὰ παρ’ ἀλλήλοις καταλῦσαι (Diod. 13.52.3).
54 Luppino-Manes (2000): 123–124.
55 ἔπειτα βουλομένων Λακεδαιμονίων ἐκ Δεκελείας ἀπιέναι καὶ ἐφ’ οἷς ἔχουσιν ἑκάτεροι εἰρήνην
ἄγειν / ‘when the Spartans were willing to evacuate Decelea on terms of both parties
retaining what they held, and to make peace,’ ap 34.1 ~ βουλόμεθα πρὸς ὑμᾶς ἄγειν εἰρήνην,
ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, καὶ τὰς μὲν πόλεις ἔχειν ἃς ἑκάτεροι κρατοῦμεν, τὰ δὲ φρούρια τὰ παρ’ ἀλλήλοις
καταλῦσαι / ‘we want to be at peace with you, men of Athens, and that each party should
keep the cities which it now possesses and cease to maintain its garrisons in the other’s
territory,’ Diod. 13.52.3.
56 μετ’ οὐ πολὺν χρόνον ἔγνωσαν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν / ‘they realised their mistake not long afterwards,’
historiography and hegemony 155

same narrative pattern were apllied to different episodes and times. Aeschines,
for instance, mentions the refusal of a peace offering and the Athenian Cleo-
phon as the responsible for that refusal ([2] 76), but unfortunately he does not
date the episode. Therefore, though scholars believe that these assumed peace
talks (the one would take place after the battle of Cyzicus and the other after
the battle of Arginusae) should be reduced to a single episode,57 the theme of
‘pacification’ might have become a sort of topos that fitted any circumstances
well, one we expect to see developed in different contexts whatever the his-
torical truth. Alternatively, there might have been several episodes in which
Cleophon spoke against peace proposals.58
What is particularly noteworthy is the fact that, presumably after the battle
of Cyzicus, Sparta could rely upon a number of moderate citizens at Athens,
who probably aimed to lead their city and were in favour of Sparta. In fact,
according to Aristotle’s account of the installation of the Thirty (404 bc), while
the oligarchs (gnorimoi) who belonged to clubs along with the exiles were eager
for oligarchy, and the demotikoi wanted to preserve democracy, the notables
(gnorimoi) who did not belong to any club, such as Archinus, Anytus, Cli-
tophon, Phormisius and their leader, Theramenes, aimed to restore the ances-
tral constitution (ap 34.3). Unfortunately, because of a sort of language sim-
plification found in historical works, through Diodorus’ evidence we cannot

ap 34.2 ~ μετενόησαν ὅτε οὐδὲν ὄφελος / ‘ [the Athenians] repented of it when it could do
them no good,’ Diod. 13.53.3. Luppino-Manes (2000): 125–126.
57 Rhodes (1981): 424–425. See Bleckmann (1998): 402 and Rood (2004 a): 383–390.
58 The theme of pacification in the face of the strong opposition of the democrats led by
Cleophon appears as a sort of fourth-century historiographical topos. At any rate, this does
not necessary impugn the historicity of the Diodorean meeting after Cyzicus, since more
than one episode might have really occurred, and have been related by using the same
narrative cliché. Diodorus might have even moulded that historical account according to
Thucydidean stylistical patterns; and he might also have injected there some topics related
to a later debate, that on land hegemony, which—as we have seen—was central to the
thought of both the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon. In fact, if Diodorus appears to
write with Thucydides in mind, nevertheless through Endius’ words he expresses the idea,
less developed in Thucydides, that a sea hegemon may be week if contrasted by a land
power. I am pretty happy with the suggestion made by Rood (2004 a): 383–390. For this
scholar the close intertextual similarities between the Diodorean account of the aftermath
of Cyzicus and Thucydides’ account of the Athenian response after Pylos orchestrated by
Cleon (4.21, and further other Thucydidean passages) do not deprive Diodorus’ report
of its historical reliability. See also Bleckmann (1998): 402, who, instead, in denying the
trustworthiness of Diodorus’ account, speaks of ‘ein künstliches Gegenstück,’ an artificial,
literary counterpart of Thucydides’ narrative.
156 chapter 7

identify those persons who formed a pro-Spartan group at Athens. In fact, the
historian assigns both democrats and moderates to a single group, and he does
so in Endius’ passage (Diod. 13.53.1–2) as well as later, with reference to the
peace talks of 404bc: οἱ γὰρ τῆς ὀλιγαρχίας ὀρεγόμενοι τὴν παλαιὰν κατάστασιν
ἔφασαν δεῖν ἀνανεοῦσθαι, καθ’ ἣν παντελῶς ὀλίγοι τῶν ὅλων προειστήκεισαν: οἱ δὲ
πλεῖστοι δημοκρατίας ὄντες ἐπιθυμηταὶ τὴν τῶν πατέρων πολιτείαν προεφέροντο,
καὶ ταύτην ἀπέφηναν ὁμολογουμένως οὖσαν δημοκρατίαν / ‘for those who were
bent on oligarchy asserted that the ancient constitution should be revived,
in which only a very few represented the state, whereas the greatest number,
who were partisans of democracy, made the government of their fathers their
platform and declared that this was by common consent a democracy’ (Diod.
14.3.3). According to Diodorus, thus, all together, moderates and democrats,
appealed to the traditional constitution of their forefathers.59

7.3 Political Realities and Historiographical Simplifications

It has been suggested that the episode of Endius’ embassy fits the period
following the battle of Cyzicus, when the Athenian oligarchs led by Pisander
and connected with king Agis failed in their attempt to move on Athens from
Decelea (Thuc. 8.71.2). And because the king ascribed all responsibilities for
this failure to the Spartan government (8.71.3), it would be plausible that a new
deal was at stake with the forming of a sort of Sparta-Athens axis.60 Presumably
this new deal was warmly supported at Athens by the notables, that is οἱ μὲν
ἐπιεικέστατοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων of whom Diodorus speaks (13.53.1). Despite that,
however, the historian simplifies the picture of the political divisions occurring
at Athens near the end of the fifth century (cf. ap 34.3, above).
From Endius’ passage (13.52–53) it is clear that Diodorus adopts some fourth-
century labels; the phrasing of Endius’ speech shows in fact the historian’s
familiarity with fourth-century words: think, for example, of the word dema-
gogos, that first appears in the fourth century, or the superlative of epieikes,
epieikestatoi, which is used with the same political meaning as that given by
Aristotle: a category of peoples that contrast with the demos.61 However, it is

59 See ch. 4.4 and Appendix, 1. A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Theramenes Papyrus
(P. Mich. 5982).
60 Especially if we accept Endius’ hostility towards Agis and consider his kinship with
Alcibiades. Luppino-Manes (2000): 133–134. Endius was son of Alcibiades. Mei (1997): 1026.
61 Differently, Thucydides, as well as, later, Xenophon, prefers the word prostates to indicate
the champion of the demos. Diod. 13.53.1–2; 14.4.2; 16.32.2; 17.36.1. Cf. Zoepffel (1974): 69–90.
historiography and hegemony 157

undoubtedly true that, although Diodorus is a Greek historian, he writes in the

Caesarian age and therefore shares with his contemporaries a mode of analysis
typical of Roman historians. Inspired by reading Greek historical works, Roman
historians tend to simplify political realities reducing them to schematic and
binary patterns. In Roman historiographical practice the Greek stereotypical
oligoi ~ demos pattern is used to explain the history of party divisions at Rome
between senate and people. Polybius makes the senate and the people two
of the three vital factors (aristocracy, democracy and monarchy) of his vision
of the Roman mixed constitution.62 Similarly, Dionysius of Halicarnassus in
describing the history of the early and middle republic follows the boule-demos
antithesis. Cassius Dio adopts that schema as a favourite device for analysing
late republican history. Sallust’s view of the two main parts of the state (pauci
and plebs) omits other categories, such as that of the equites. This is moreover
close to Plutarch’s representation of Roman politics.63
The Thucydidean vocabulary shows that the stereotypical opposition oligoi
~ polloi/demos was already adopted in the fifth century bc, often (though not
always) with reference to Athenian politics. The last phases of the Pelopon-
nesian war, that saw the allies’ defection from Athens, are a good example (even
if not the only one)64 of how that categorisation, despite the fact that it simpli-
fied certain phenomena, could help a reader to understand political settings
in states other than Sparta and Athens: hoi oligoi were mostly Spartan support-
ers, while hoi polloi were pro-Athenians. As Thucydides shows, in Greek cities’
domestic policy the prevalence of the one part over the other relied upon the
external support that it received.65
This binary opposition (oligoi ~ polloi/demos) which expresses moreover a
view of Greekness as torn between the two main powers (Athens and Sparta)

Occurrences of epieikes (and cognates) in Diodorus pertain mainly to the ethical sphere,
what is good and appropriate to circumstances, in terms of behaviour or speeches (1.93.4;
2.55.4; 5.34.1; 9.10.2; 11.59.3; 12.76.2; 14.105.3; 17.4.9; 31.9.4–7; 32.4.3; 37.13.2). See above, ch. 5.1.
62 He is, whilst a Greek historian, a Roman historian, in that his work is concerned with
explaining the growth of Rome.
63 As has been noted, very few Roman writers applied the boule-demos schema so constantly
and exclusively as Plutarch did. Pelling (2011 a): 208–236.
64 Take the statement (found within the Mytilenaean debate) that ‘in all the cities the
democracy [demos] is friendly to you [the Athenians]; either it does not join in with the
oligarchies [oligoi] in revolting, or, if it is forced to do so, it remains all the time hostile
to the rebels …’ (Thuc. 3.47.2). Or consider the two factions, oligoi and demos, at war in
Corcyra in 427 (3.74; 3.82). Still, think of the opposition led by the Argive demos against
the oligoi in 418 (5.82). See ch. 8.5.
65 Cf. My article (2010): 23–43. Cf. Sancho-Rocher (1990): 195–215.
158 chapter 7

and as organised politically according to one of the two models is found in the
Oxyrhynchus historian’s text. Here we read that during the Decelean and the
Corinthian wars, many cities were divided into pro-Athens (ἀττικίζοντες) and
pro-Sparta (λακωνίζοντες) factions.66 Furthermore, the dual schema (gnorimoi
kai charientes / epieikeis kai tas ousias echontes ~ demos / polloi kai demotikoi)
describing the groups operating at Athens before the Corinthian war echoes
closely Thucydides’ way of representing political realities. As in the case of
Thucydides’ terminology, in the ho, too, this binary schema does not do justice
to the complexity of the political debate of the epoch, in which many different
clubs (hetaireiai) and close political followers, οἱ περί τινα, were pretty rele-
vant.67 Scholars have maintained that party divisions such as that between the
faction of Thrasybulus, Aesimus and Anytus (hoi epieikeis, 1.2) and the group led
by Epicrates and Cephalus (hoi polloi kai demotikoi, 1.2) recall similar divisions
between the Many and the Few. This association has been rightly considered
as a very rough one, relying too much upon the modern concepts of Right, Cen-
tre and Left.68 Strauss, for example, mentions Thrasybulus’ political history to
prove the ambiguity of the ho’s terminology; he explains: ‘I question the clas-
sification of Thrasybulus as epieikes kai ousias echon. Compared to a Cleon or a
Cleophon, Thrasybulus might have seemed like a spokesman of the Few, but he
was no more so than Pericles had been. As a working hypothesis, let us assume
that by hoi polloi kai demotikoi, p [the ho] means politicians in the tradition of
Cleon, Hyperbolus, and Cleophon, who offered the demos fiery rhetoric (proba-
bly attacking the Three Thousand), state pay, and promise of speedily restoring
the empire: in short, men whose style and sometimes substance were more
populist (for want of a better word) than Thrasybulus’ (p. 91). The scholar traces
the existence of at least six groups in the immediate post-Peloponnesian war
(those of the two Thrasybuli, of Steiria69 and the Collytan, of Agyrrhius, Ando-
cides, Archinus, and of Epicrates and Cephalus): six factions that competed
for political power at Athens.70 Politicians often changed, partially or totally,
their opinions and coalitions on personal grounds and in connection with the
‘changeable balances’ of international politics. Take the case of Epicrates, for
example, who according to the Oxyrhynchus historian was the leader of the

66 See 7.3; 17.1; 18.1.

67 Krentz (1982): 46 ff. See ch. 5.1.
68 Strauss (1986): 90–120.
69 Bearzot (1997): 328–329, maintains that the evidence from Lysias [13] 80–81 seems to
dissociate Aesimus’ activity from those of Thrasybulus and Anytus.
70 Strauss (1986): 92–104.
historiography and hegemony 159

‘populist many’ in 395 bc (1.3), but later is found as fellow-ambassador of Ando-

cides in the peace talks of 392/391bc at Sparta.71
Furthermore, the Oxyrhynchus historian’s statement that the Athenian sup-
porters of the status quo in 395 bc, at the time of the Demaenetus affair (aimed
to support secretly Conon in Asia), were ‘the men of breeding and property’
(1.3) is approximate and unsatisfactory. There were, in fact, many Athenians
both of wealth and of good breeding also in Conon’s faction. Demaenetus him-
self might be a good example, for he belonged to the rich clan of the Bouzy-
gids.72 Probably, as has been maintained, ‘the men of breeding and property’
who opposed the Demaenetus affair at Athens and the Boeotian alliance, were
the former Three Thousand, the ex-men of the City, who had been politically
active at the time of the Peloponensian war.73 From Xenophon we learn in fact
that Theban ambassadors spoke at Athens on the eve of the Corinthian war in
favour of forming an anti-Spartan coalition; they emphasised that those who in
the past had belonged to the ‘party’ of Piraeus (ὅσοι τῶν ἐν ἄστει ἐγένεσθε, that
is, the democrats) ought to be enthusiasts for that alliance, implying perhaps
that only or especially the actual ex-men of the City (oligarchs) needed still to
be persuaded.74
Many Athenian leaders were also professional orators, or had fame as such
(Andocides, Agyrrhius, Cephalus, Thrasybulus of Collytus),75 and broadly
speaking all politicians needed to possess some rhetorical skills. It is possible
that the influence of oratory over politicians and the practice of rhetorical tech-
niques determined that oversimplification of political language which flowed
into historiography and that simplified the reading of political life. The use of
binary schemas was connected to a certain tendency to generalise rather than
to identify the individual features of a state, whether they be democratic or
oligarchic specificities. It reflects a desire to concentrate on the principles and
essentials at stake, so as to draw lessons from different circumstances of the
past and to apply them to the needs of orators’ own times. So it may seem
to Lysias more natural to use the term plethos especially in relation with the
second-person plural of the possessive pronoun, hymeteron, to denote ‘your

71 On Epicrates of Cephisia see Simon (1997): 1121.

72 Aeschin. [2] 78. Cf. Strauss (1986): 136.
73 Strauss (1986): 110–113.
74 Xen. Hell. 3.5.8–10. It is possible that at that time the ex-men of the City were still politically
active in Athens; eventually this was due to Archinus, who in 401 had given the chance to
everyone guilty of murders and involved in the regime of the Thirty to be reintegrated into
the life of the restored democracy. Bearzot (1997), 9–10.
75 Strauss (1986): 96–104.
160 chapter 7

democracy:’ this refers, in fact, to that vague ideal of democracy for which many
Athenians had fought rather than to any specific institution or form of govern-
ment. An exemplary case (among others) was surely that of Eucrates, brother
of Nicias, who was put to death by the Thirty in 404bc for opposing the estab-
lishment of oligarchy. He is recalled by Lysias to his audience as one who gave
evidence of loyal devotion to their democracy, τὸ πλῆθος τὸ ὑμέτερον (18.4–5).
This usage bearing ethical nuances would induce all Athenians to feel and per-
ceive themselves as distant from the enemy, the Thirty, and from the oligarchy
seen as a whole.76

7.4 Conclusion

Xenophon supports his main idea that Athens and Sparta ought to share he-
gemony through arguments that were well known to his audience, and were,
presumably, used by orators as well. Not only did common themes circulate
among historians and orators, but they also shared a particular way of under-
standing specific contexts—contemporary political divisions, political institu-
tions, states holding hegemonic power, land and sea power—that tended to
simplify political terminology so as to bring out broader meanings. Labels such
as plethos/demos and oligarchia, for example, do not denote particular institu-
tional bodies; they are very general terms that can endorse particular ethical
meanings and nuances in every specific context, and induce the audience to
think in the same terms as those the orator or the historian desires. This way
of reading historical happenings seems something that historians learned from
orators.
Xenophon’s evaluation of land hegemony recurs in Diodorus’ narrative. Dio-
dorus’ language (esp. Diod. 13. 52–53) shows a bipolar configuration of Greek
politics, the opposition between demos and oligoi. This is a sort of crystallisa-
tion of the political language, mainly due to a gulf between real events and peo-
ples’ perception of, and to a tendency to generalise rather than to identify the
individual features of a state, whether they be democratic or oligarchic speci-
ficities. Moreover, the tendency to simplify political realities, reducing them to
schematic and binary patterns, is very frequent in Roman historiography and
biography.

76 Lysias tends to use the definite article with the word ὀλιγαρχία when he is referring to
that regime. Cf. Todd (2007): 691. Generally speaking, very rarely orators used the word
plethos/demos to denote a particular institutional democratic body. Cf. Todd (2007): 620.
historiography and hegemony 161

The Thucydidean vocabulary shows that the stereotypical opposition oli-

goi~polloi/demos was already adopted in the fifth century, especially with ref-
erence to Athenian politics, and was intended to explain political settings in
states other than Sparta and Athens: hoi oligoi were mostly pro-Spartan citi-
zens, while hoi polloi were Athenian supporters. This binary pattern (oligoi~pol-
loi/demos), which expresses a view of Greekness as torn between the two main
powers and does not do justice to the complexity of the political debate of the
epoch, is found in the ho too. Here we learn that during the Decelean and the
Corinthian wars many cities were divided into pro-Athens (ἀττικίζοντες) and
pro-Sparta (λακωνίζοντες) factions.
 chapter 8

Historical Causation

The ho’s narrative is soaked in the political language used by Thucydides

which tells the history of Athens and her internal factions. Terms such as
polypragmoneo, hesychia, eirene, demokratia, stasiasmos, hetaireia, attikizo, or
politeuomai (P. Oxy. v 842, 7.2; 15.3; 16.1; 16.4; 17.1; 17.2),1 proper to the semantic
sphere of internal conflict, war and peace, are highly reminiscent of Thucy-
dides’ political terminology as they occur frequently throughout his narra-
tive.2
Furthermore, looking at the ho’s text it emerges that the work is also broadly
redolent of Thucydides’ view of politics3 and his theory of causation. Therefore,
this chapter aims to ask some important questions in order to explore the ho’s
debt to Thucydides: they concern patterns connected with historical causation,
individual and collective responsibilities, covert and uncovert motivations for
action, narrative clichés.

8.1 Why Do Things Happen?

As in Thucydides’ Histories, so also in the ho the narrator tends to impose

his single ‘monologic’ view on readers. But, if compared with his model, the
Oxyrhynchus historian shows a more deliberate and unequivocal attempt of
affirming his narrative voice: he raises questions that often have univocal an-
swers, and cares that his audience accept those answers without leaving room
for doubts. Although the shape of the ho’s narrative shows to be influenced
by Herodotus’ digressive style, not much of Herodotus’ explanatory mode is
found here. Herodotus’ understanding of why things happen is indeed complex
and subtle. It embraces the notions of responsibility and perhaps of guilt.
On a large scale Herodotus’ framework of explanation relies on the idea that
human actions, aimed to good or ill, will be balanced by a counteraction in the
same mode. The obligations of gratitude and revenge are fundamental human
motives for Herodotus, as a chain of obligation and revenge leads back from

1 Cf. Macleod (1983): 116, Hornblower (1991): 455.

2 Cf. Bauer (1913): 7–18.
3 Cf. ch. 5.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_009

historical causation 163

Salamis, Plataea and Marathon to Croesus and thence to Gyges or to the rape of
Io. The envy of divinity forms a pattern of supernatural intervention in human
life. At the same time ‘disruptiveness’ (to tarachodes) and the recurring idea of
‘chance’ stress the randomness and unpredictability of divine intervention.4 All
these motives are closely interrelated and the narrator tries to scrutinise them
through a polyphony of voices, coming from real informants or supposed to
be so. The unresolved relation between the focalisation through the narrator
and his explanatory intrusions which open questions up, as well as the lively
and detail-filled focalisations found in the logoi that Herodotus includes in the
narrative, mark perhaps the greatest distance from the monologic voice of the
ho’s narrator.5
Admittedly, there is one case in which a plurality of focalisations and inter-
nal audiences comes up in the ho too, showing the issue to be ambiguous in its
reading, just as it was in the eyes of the internal audience. If the reader should
believe in the Boeotians’ alleged reasons for the outbreak of the Corinthian war
then he/she would think of Spartan activism as the underlying cause; other-
wise, if the Spartan reading of that event—as well as the narrator’s explana-
tion!—prevailed, as presumably it did in Sparta and among her supporters, the
war would originate from a Theban conspiracy promoted by the pro-war party
active in the city (7.2–5; 18.4). But where Herodotus is constantly dialogical,
showing an intrusive narrator provided with a singular communicative verve,
and Thucydides is carefully analytical, the Oxyrhynchus historian gives a quite
‘economical’ view of events through a sort of ‘laconic’ way which shows a cer-
tain tendency to simplify any story. Therefore, in reading the ho it is particularly
useful to think in terms of ‘focalisation,’ or of ‘who sees the story:’ the viewpoints
of people and generals can be caught only through the narrative itself, for in
many cases the reasons of the participants are definitely given by the narrator
without explanations.
There is one particular Thucydideanism in the text that immediately attracts
the attention of the discriminating reader, that is, the ho’s constant recourse
to a kind of explanatory mode that echoes two words familiar to Thucydides’
readers, prophasis and aitia/aition. The use of these concepts, related as they
are to the language of historical causation, shows that the Oxyrhynchus histo-
rian is deeply inspired by his model; despite this, however, in some cases he
takes distance from Thucydides, giving his personal reading of the prophasis ~
aitia pattern. And we shall see how.

4 Gould (1989): 64–65 and 79.

5 Baragwanath (2008).
164 chapter 8

In the fifth century this dual conceptualisation, prophasis ~ aitia, a binary

scheme combining an underlying disposition with an immediate precipitating
cause, is found in the language of contemporary medicine, and the use of the
two words in the context of that binary opposition is more important than the
question of which side of the opposition gets which word. In fact, on the one
hand we can notice a certain tendency in Greek conceptualisation to accom-
modate a multiplicity of causes according to binary patterns,6 on the other the
language itself of medicine offers such a broad spectrum of meanings applied to
the word prophasis (the first appearing of an illness, observable cause, cause in
general, and explanation)7 that this makes us aware of the deceptive character
of any attempt to characterise that pattern (prophasis ~ aitia) definitively. This
is also partially due to modern tendency to find ‘exact’ translations for Greek
terms whose meaning is instead fluid, depending on their manifold uses in
different contexts.8 There is also that emphasis that some scholars put on Hip-
pocratic texts which show that sometimes some illnesses, pains, or affections
happen ‘without’ a prophasis: ἐρυσιπέλατα πολλὰ, τοῖσι μὲν μετὰ προφάςιος, τοῖσι
δ’ οὔ, or Φιλιστίδι τῇ Ἡρακλείδου γυναικὶ ἤρξατο πυρετὸς ὀξὺς, ἔρευθος προσώπου,
ἐξ οὐδεμιῆς προφάςιος, still τὸ δὲ ἄφωνον τινὰ ἐξαίφνης γενέσθαι, φλεβῶν ἀπολήψιες
λυπέουσιν, ἢν ὑγιαίνοντι τόδε ξυμβῇ ἄνευ προφάσιος ἢ ἄλλης αἰτίης ἰσχυρῆς.9 Accord-
ing to those scholars, if prophasis meant ‘cause’ then an illness without propha-
sis would be an illness without cause;10 therefore, a clear distinction between
prophasis and cause would seem consequently strengthened, all the more so
if Thucydides himself describing the plague at Athens speaks of an absolutely
unexpected phenomenon (τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους ἀπ’ οὐδεμιᾶς προφάσεως, ἀλλ’ ἐξαίφνης
ὑγιεῖς ὄντας πρῶτον μὲν τῆς κεφαλῆς θέρμαι ἰσχυραὶ καὶ τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν ἐρυθήματα
καὶ φλόγωσις ἐλάμβανε, 2.49.2). But it is not always so that diseases are without
prophasis, since sometimes they are without a clear prophasis, ἄνευ/ἄτερ προφά-
σιος φανερῆς,11 or without visible causes, ἄνευ προφάσεων ἐμφανέων.12 Moreover,

6 Pelling (2000): 85.

7 Robert (1976): 317–342.
8 See for example Schuller (1956): 971–984. Cf. Robert (1976): 333.
9 Epid. 3.3.3; Epid. 7.1.120; Acut. 4.1–2; Prorrh. 2. 30. Cf. Coac. 316: Ὀσφύος ἄλγημα, ἄνευ προ-
φάσιος πυκνὰ ἐπιφοιτέον, κακοήθεος ἀῤῥωστίης σημεῖον, 319: Οἷσιν ὀσφύος ἄλγημα καὶ πλευροῦ
ἄνευ προφάσιος, ἰκτεριώδεες γίνονται, 364: καὶ τὰ ἀλγήματα ἀφανιζόμενα χωρὶς προφάσιος, ὀλέ-
θρια, 389: δύσπνοοι δέ τινα χρόνον γενόμενοι παύσωνται χωρὶς προφάσιος. Cf. also Epid. 1.1.
10 Robert (1976): 325–326.
11 Aph. 2.41, 5.45 and 55; Acut. 3.70.
12 Prorrh. 2.14.26.
historical causation 165

the manifold uses of prophasis in different Hippocratic contexts lead us to

different conclusions. We could assume that the Hippocratics leave the concept
of prophasis slightly ambiguous, because controversial, in the sense that they
are aware that some causes are not wholly absent but only not visible or
perspicuous or transparent to their own knowledge: τοῦτο δὲ ὁρέω μαινομένους
ἀνθρώπους καὶ παραφρονέοντας ἀπὸ μηδεμιῆς προφάσιος ἐμφανέος.13
In Thucydides’ account of the Sicilian expedition prophasis can be associ-
ated to the subjective domain of ‘intention,’ ‘explanation,’ where ‘la cause se
confond avec l’intention du peuple qui a entrepris la conquête, où la sincérité
de l’explication est rigoureusement identique à la vérité de la cause.’14 Propha-
sis often occurs in contexts in which someone is speaking, therefore it suggests
an etymological link with the verb φημί (to say); it means ‘explanation,’ that is,
‘what is proferred as a reason,’ true or false or partially true.15 Alternatively, the
derivation of the notion prophais from προφαίνω is suggested by the fact that
at times a phenomenon that ‘precedes’ is followed by something else.16 Some-
times (but not always) in Thucydides an occasion which supplies an excuse
or pretext is told prophasis, as it is at 1.118.1, where the facts of Corcyra and
Potidaea, described as a prophasis, are to be taken as the ‘occasion’ (cf. 1.141.1
and 1.146). Moreover, unlike, for example, Demosthenes, who adds synonyms
to specify the meaning of prophasis (e.g. προφάσεις καὶ ἀφορμαί), Thucydides
often leaves the term slightly unclear and unspecified.17
Explaining the Peloponnesian war Thucydides says that after having set out
the grounds (aitiai) and the elements of rift between the two sides, Sparta and
Athens, he finds the truest explanation (alethestate prophasis) which was the
most unclear in what was openly said: the growth of Athens which frightened
Sparta forcing her to go to war (1.23.5–6). Scholars were tempted to interpret
this passage as if Thucydides wrote ἀληθεστάτην αἰτίαν instead of ἀληθεστάτην
πρόφασιν, thinking that he would mean the true underlying cause.18 But in that
case the historian blames openly Athens, which would be too easy and simple,
perhaps. Of course it was the Athenians who were responsible for becoming

13 Morb. Sacr. 1.14–15

14 Robert (1976): 333.
15 Cf. Pelling (2012 b): 561–562.
16 Cf. Pelling (2012 b): 561–562. On Herodotus’ use of prophasis as ‘excuse’ (or ‘pretext’)
and ‘occasion,’ see Pearson (1952): 208–209. In Herodotus prophasis and aitia may have
the same meaning, and therefore it is impossible to establish any constant relationship
between the two words.
17 Pearson (1952): 216.
18 For the discussion on this point see Pearson (1952): 219–220.
166 chapter 8

frighteningly great masters of Greeks, who now could even be seen as the slaves
of this ‘tyrant city;’ but here Thucydides is concerned with giving explanations,
a plurality of reasons arising by the various parts involved. Furthermore, a kind
of hierarchy of motives, a sort of graduation of causes, more or less true, seems
to come up in the text. As Pelling wrote, Thucydides’ passage may be easily
misleading:

It is not saying that there is only one ‘true’ cause: one explanation is truest,
carries most explanatory power, but that does not exclude the other
explanations from being true too. […] The ‘truest explanation’ makes it
clear why there was a war waiting to happen; the ‘grounds and elements
of rift’ explain why it happened in 431 rather than 435 or 427. It is even
clear why the one explanation is ‘truer,’ or at least more powerful, than
the other: without the less true explanation (Corcyra and Potidaea), we
would still have had a war at some time; without the truer one (Athenian
expansion), we should not have had a war at all.19 […]

According to Thucydides the aitiai were ‘openly expressed,’ while the alethes-
tate prophasis was ‘the most unclear in what was said’ (1.23.5–6). Thus, what
remained unclear was that (a) Athens became great, (b) frightened the Spar-
tans, (c) who were forced to make war. However, while we find a hint at the
first point in the speech of the Corinthians (1.71.3–4), in the Spartan debate20
nothing would lead us to think that there was no other feasible alternative to
war, since the Spartans themselves spoke as if there was at least the possibility
of refusing to be involved and of deciding either way.21
Surprisingly, also the aitiai remain unsaid in the mouths of those speakers.22
True, there was no need for Thucydides to recall the aitiai (Corcyra, Potidaea)
within the speeches delivered by the Corinthians, the Spartans, or the Athe-
nians, since he had already dealt extensively with them before, throughout
several chapters.23 All this would imply, moreover, the impossibility of sepa-

19 Pelling (2000): 88.

20 Thucydides reports a debate that took place at Sparta on the eve of the war; here Corinthi-
ans (1.67.4–72.1), Athenians (1.72.2–78.5), and Spartans (Archidamus, 1.80–85, and Sthene-
laidas, 1.86) explained their own reasons. About a month after that assembly, the Spartans
appointed a formal meeting of the whole Peloponnesian league, deliberating about the
opportunity to make war against Athens.
21 Thuc. 1.80–86. Pelling (2000): 112–113.
22 Cf. Debnar (2001): 30–47.
23 Pelling (2000): 119–120.
historical causation 167

rating Thucydides’ narrative from his speeches,24 for in the narrative speeches
are themselves ‘happenings’ which have consequences: they do have the same
explanatory force as other types of events. But why does that prophasis con-
tinue to be unsaid? Because unclear? It was not unclear certainly to those
speakers; for if that prophasis was unclear in what was said, this does not
necessarily mean that it was unclear also in their minds. Eventually, it might
have appeared unclear to many poeople, and Thucydides, who, moreover, lived
far from Athens when he wrote, was particularly concerned with the need
to uncover the ‘true’ explanations lying behind what had been said. It might
be possible thus that Thucydides reporting the speeches delivered at Sparta
wanted to convey what he himself believed, namely that the alethestate propha-
sis remained unclear to many Greeks, after what the speakers had said openly
(ἀφανεστάτην δὲ λόγῳ), that is to say, after what those Corinthians, Spartans,
and Athenians were supposed to have said on that occasion. Furthermore, the
superlative ἀφανεστάτην, ‘the most unclear,’ does not mean that it was wholly
unclear, but that some matters got more air-space and achieved more clarity
than others.
Thucydides identifies the aitiai of the war also with accusations, complaints
and quarrels that were in men’s mouths on both sides (the Spartan and the
Athenian), as is shown by the use of ἑκατέρων and the coupling of aitiai with
διαφοραί (1.23.5–6).25 Writing about the war the historian is more concerned to
tell how it happened and what it was like, rather than to use technical words
with an aspiration to precision. It has been suggested that he was influenced
by judiciary terminology and especially by Antiphon, as the contrastive cou-
ple φανερόν ~ ἀφανές is one of those particularly frequent in Greek judiciary
language.26 However, in the fourth century the language of causation does not
show any narrower or more specialised use of prophasis ~ aitia in compari-
son with Thucydides’ or Herodotus’ practice.27 In Demosthenes, for instance,
prophasis may mean either ‘excuse’ or ‘occasion,’ and perhaps also ‘motive.’
However, Demosthenes’ reader will notice that prophasis is not used by some-
one who is speaking of himself or of his client: he never says that he or his client

24 Rusten (2009): 1–28.

25 διότι δ’ ἔλυσαν, τὰς αἰτίας προύγραψα πρῶτον καὶ τὰς διαφοράς, τοῦ μή τινα ζητῆσαί ποτε ἐξ ὅτου
τοσοῦτος πόλεμος τοῖς Ἕλλησι κατέστη. τὴν μὲν γὰρ ἀληθεστάτην πρόφασιν, ἀφανεστάτην δὲ
λόγῳ, τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ἡγοῦμαι μεγάλους γιγνομένους καὶ φόβον παρέχοντας τοῖς Λακεδαιμονίοις
ἀναγκάσαι ἐς τὸ πολεμεῖν· αἱ δ’ ἐς τὸ φανερὸν λεγόμεναι αἰτίαι αἵδ’ ἦσαν ἑκατέρων, ἀφ’ ὧν
λύσαντες τὰς σπονδὰς ἐς τὸν πόλεμον κατέστησαν.
26 Robert (1976): 337.
27 Pearson (1952): 212–215.
168 chapter 8

has a perfect prophasis for prosecution or the best possible in defence, or that
the Athenians had a good prophasis to go to war against Philip. The negative
meaning of the word is pretty clear: no-one is proud of having a prophasis or of
offering it to someone else.28
In Thucydides’ passage on the outbreak of the Peloponnesian war (1.23.5–6)
prophasis is true (or, better, the truest explanation) de facto but still ἀφανεστάτην
δὲ λόγῳ. The narrator of the ho reverts to the Thucydidean notion of prophasis
only once, giving its verbal (participial) form, προφασιζόμενος. It means ‘to
set up as a pretext’ and contrasts with the true motivation that follows it
(15.1):

καθ’ ἑκά|[στην] ἡ̣ μ̣ ε[̣́ ρ]α̣ν̣ ἐξήτ[αζε τοὺς στρατιώτας] σὺν τοῖς ὅ|[πλοις] ἐν [τ]ῷ
λιμέν[ι, προφασιζόμενος μὲ]ν ἵνα μὴ ῥᾳ|[θυμο]ῦντες χείρους [γένωνται πρὸς
τὸν] πόλεμον, βου|[λόμε]νος δὲ παρασκε[υάζειν προθύμους] τοὺς Ῥοδίους |
[ἐὰν ἴ]δωσιν ἐν τοῖς ὅ̣[πλοις αὐτοὺς παρόν]τας τηνικαῦ|[τα τοῖ]ς ἔργοις ἐπι-
χειρε[ῖν·

Each day he reviewed the soldiers with their weapons at the harbour, the
pretext being that they should not become lazy and unfit for the war, but
in fact wanting to raise the morale of the Rhodians with the idea that if
they saw them in armour they might engage in action immeduately.

This makes it tempting to suggest that in the ho there is a sort of tendency

to reduce the spectrum of meanings for prophasis and to emphasise only one
possible meaning, that of ‘pretext.’ But this could easily turn out to understate
the depth of the Oxyrhynchus historian’s debt to Thucydides. The narrative of
the phase preceding the outbreak of the Corinthian war seems a sort of re-
moulding of Thucydides’ discussion of the causes of the Peloponnesian war
(18.2):

[δι]ανοηθέντες δὲ ταῦτα | περὶ τῶν πραγμάτων ἐνόμιζον ἀπὸ μὲν τοῦ φα|νεροῦ
χαλεπῶς ἔχειν ἐπιτίθεσθαι τούτοις· οὐδέποτε | γὰρ οὔτε Θηβαίους οὔτε τοὺς
ἄλλους Βοιωτοὺς πεισθή|σεσθαι πολεμεῖν Λακεδαιμονίοις ἄρχουσι τῆς Ἑλλά|
δος· ἐπιχειροῦντες [δ]ὲ διὰ ταύτης τῆς ἀπάτης προάγειν | εἰς τὸν πόλεμον
αὐτούς, ἀνέπεισαν ἄνδρας τινὰς Φω|κέων ἐμβαλεῖν εἰς τὴν Λοκρῶν τῶν Ἑσπε-
ρίων κα|λουμένων, οἷς ἐγένετο τῆς ἔχθρας αἰτία τοιαύτη. κτλ.

28 Pearson (1952): 212–214.

historical causation 169

This was their analysis of the situation; but they thought that it would
be difficult to attack them openly, since neither the Thebans nor the
Boeotians would ever be persuaded to make war on the Spartans, who
were supreme in Greece. This was the trick they used to lead them into
war: they persuaded certain men among the Phocians to launch an attack
on the territory of the western Locrians. Enmity between them arose from
the following cause. […]

The term φανερόν shows that the goal of attacking the Spartans cannot be
openly achieved and consequently said in order to involve other Greeks into
war. Thebes’ desire29 to overthrow the Spartan empire (βουλόμενοι | μὲν καταλῦ-
σαι τ[ὴν ἀρχὴν αὐτῶ]ν, 18.1) recalls the Thucydidean ‘truest explanation,’ which
also in Thucydides remained ἀφανεστάτην δὲ λόγῳ, the most unclear, because—
as we have suggested above—it was least expressed in what was said at that
time. What we do not find in the ho are the various degrees of truth traceable
in Thucydides’ passage (1.23.5–6). For instance, the reason for hostility between
Phocians and Locrians is called αἰτία τοιαύτη and in the following section the
narrator explains it without leaving room for doubts: those peoples disputed
for a land which was a sort of boundary area between Locris and Phocis (18.3).
If something must be ἀφανές then it may require (even though not always) a
trick, ἀπάτη. So the Thebans reverted to a deceitful business: they persuaded
certain men among the Phocians to launch an attack on the territory of the
western Locrians (18.2; cf. 18.4); then the Locrians urged the Boeotians to get
involved in that affair against the Phocians; this implied, moreover, a Boeotian
intevention against the Spartans, supporters of the Phocians (18.4).
But what about the aitiai, according to the ho? Aitiai/aitia are ‘grounds’
for doing something (the passage just quoted, 18.2), ‘allegations’ (17.1), the
‘explanations’ that people had been giving, presumably at the time in which
the author wrote (7.2). For the narrator aitioi, or people responsible for the
Corinthian war, were some among the Thebans (16.1); aitios was the King
himself, responsible for the desertion of his mercenaries, again, according to
the narrator (19.1). There is a constant concern not to leave anything unclear,
since the narrator tends to correct explanations that appear untrue to his view.
So, for instance, while some say that the causes, αἴτια, of the Corinthian war
are to be found in the money that Timocrates granted to some Greek cities to
make them go to war against Sparta (7.2), the narrator resorts to a narrative
device to confute this: he holds off from saying the motivations for Athens to

29 To be precise, the desire of Androcleidas’ party.

170 chapter 8

make that war (which he had started to discuss) by inserting a digression going
back to the times of the Decelean war; through this digression he shows that
the true reason lies in the Corinthians’ wish to bring about a change of policy
(7.2–5).
The theme of historical causation in relation to the outbreak of the war
was probably felt as a priority by the author if one considers the number of
chapters and the very detailed analysis devoted to this theme (7 and 16–18). As
we have shown before (chapter 2), digressions are necessary to clarify things;
for, embedded as they are in the narrative, they strengthen and emphasise the
point of view of the narrator; the text would suffer for unclarity if they were not
where they are.
‘Ground,’ ‘explanation,’ ‘allegation,’ ‘culpability:’ these are the meanings for
aitiai/aitia/aitios. But that is not all. There is also a tendency to personalise
causes and explanations, either by telling an event through the point of view
(intentions and thoughts) of the participants or by using the participial form
of verbs expressing ‘will,’ like βούλομαι, or ‘pretext,’ like προφασίζομαι (see the
passage cited above, 15.1): when οἱ περὶ τὸν Ἀνδροκλείδαν, that is, the anti-
Spartan party at Thebes led by Androcleidas, wanted (βουλόμενοι) to overthrow
the Spartan empire, they thought (οἰόμενοι) that they could achieve easily
that. But thinking ([δι]ανοηθέντες) of that, they acknowledged (ἐνόμιζον) that
they could not put it before them (Thebans, Boeotians, and others) openly;
therefore, they reverted to a trick (18.1–2).

8.2 To Blame or not to Blame … Individual and Collective

Responsibilities

Does αἴτιος have the same meaning and nuances as αἴτιον/αἴτια and αἰτία do?
In the ho while alleged responsibilities, aitiai and aitia, are adduced by imper-
sonal sides, καίτοι τι|νὲς λέγ[ουσιν αἴτια γενέσθ]αι (7.2), [ο]ἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Ἰσμηνίαν
| αἰτίαν μὲν̣ εἶχον ἀττικίζειν (17.1), οἷς [Locrians and Phocians] ἐγένετο τῆς ἔχθρας
αἰτία τοιαύτη (18.2), and sometimes they are refuted by the narrator,30 the cul-
pability of someone who is aitios looks as if ascertained and the aitios is also
slightly biased by the narrator: take, for example, ἐγένοντο δὲ τῆς ἔχθρας αὐτοῖς
| αἴτιοι μάλιστα τῶν ἐν ταῖς Θήβαις τινές κτλ. (16.1) and τούτων δὲ βασιλεὺς αἴτιός
ἐστι⟨ν⟩ κτλ. (19.2). Similarly, in Xenophon the narrator hints at aitios as at some-
one who is to be blamed. He gets that effect through direct or indirect speeches

30 At 7.2 and 17.1.

historical causation 171

charging someone with something: in 407 bc while some people at Athens said
that Alcibiades was the best of the citizens and had been banished without
just cause (οὐ δικαίως), others maintained that he alone was responsible for
their past troubles, τῶν παροιχομένων αὐτοῖς κακῶν μόνος αἴτιος εἴη (1.4.13 and 17).
After killing Tissaphernes, Tithraustes said to Agesilaus that the man responsi-
ble for all their mutual troubles had been justly punished (αἴτιος τῶν πραγμάτων
καὶ ὑμῖν καὶ ἡμῖν ἔχει τὴν δίκην, 3.4.25).
The question is big indeed and opens a broad spectrum of issues and con-
nections. The use of the adjective aitios with a slight nuance of ‘blame’ is com-
mon to fifth-century historical and medical writings. In the Hippocratic corpus
while the neutral substantive to aition is used with the meaning of ‘that which
is responsible for’ in a very broad and general sense, aitios may refer to people
who are responsible for doing something and who sometimes are also biased,
either men or gods. So in the treatise The Art we read: ‘surely it is much more
likely that the physician gives proper orders, which the patient not unnaturally
is unable to follow; and not following them he meets with death, the cause (τὰς
αἰτίας) of which illogical reasoners attribute to the innocent (τοῖς οὐδὲν αἰτίοις),
allowing the guilty (τοὺς αἰτίους) to go free’ (7.24–25).31 The polemic seems to
be addressed to presumed apologies made by sophists, whose speeches usu-
ally tried to overturn the arguments of the accusers in order to vindicate the
accused.32 Blame for people’s behaviour is also found in The Sacred Disease,
‘all these [remedies] they enjoin with reference to their divinity, as if possessed
of more knowledge, and announcing beforehand (προφάσιας λέγοντες) other
causes so that if the person should recover, theirs would be the honour and
credit; and if he should die, they would have a certain defence, as if the gods,
and not they, were to blame (αἴτιοί εἰσιν)’ (1.40–44).33 This closely resembles
forensic speeches in the way that the speaker, after having listened to the ther-
apeutic prescriptions made by his rivals (here not reported), denounces the
most subtle device that they use, that is to say, ascribing the whole responsi-
bility to the divinity but advocating also other causes which can allow them to
claim credit for an eventual healing.34

31 For the relation of this passage with Gorgias’ style see Jouanna (2000): 174.
32 Cf. Gorg. Hel. dk 82 b 11 (6). Jouanna (2000): 174.
33 There are many cases throughout the corpus in which αἴτιος, α, ον is referred to inanimate
beings or to illnesses and means ‘cause’, like aitia. See, for example, Aër. 4.3; 6.2; 9.4; 12.3;
14.2; 16.1; 16.5.
34 In a context in which doctors were in competition with herbalists, drug-sellers, ‘purifiers’
and sellers of charms and incantations, and anyone could claim to cure the sick, many
medical writings were in polemic with that sort of alleged healers. The consequent inse-
172 chapter 8

Not only do medical writings resort to metaphors coming from the language
of oratory, but they also develop a view of causation that recalls the language
of politics. In Ancient Medicine (16), for instance, the interaction of different
forces within human body is often explained with the help of political images,
especially those of ‘balance of power’35 and dynameis, which mean ‘physical
forces’ working in the body as ‘political powers’ do in the city. In so doing the
work appears to echo a kind of vocabulary that is familiar from Thucydides’
historiography onwards. The idea that Thucydides was attempting to do for
history what, at the same time, Hippocrates was trying to do for medicine has
been rightly abandoned some years ago by Hornblower, as both traditions, the
historical and the medical, might have taken similar paths independently.36
This does not exclude, however, the possibility that they could also influence
each other. Thucydides’ well-known description of the plague recalls many
diseases of the same type described by the Hippocratics, in that it spread
unexpectedly;37 furthermore, Thucydides’ use of aition with the meaning of
‘that which is responsible for’ is not dissimilar from the Hippocratics’ use,
especially when the term explains the causes of physical phenomena: ἐγένετο
δὲ καὶ ἐν Πεπαρήθῳ κύματος ἐπαναχώρησίς τις, οὐ μέντοι ἐπέκλυσέ γε· καὶ σεισμὸς
τοῦ τείχους τι κατέβαλε καὶ τὸ πρυτανεῖον καὶ ἄλλας οἰκίας ὀλίγας. αἴτιον δ’ ἔγωγε
νομίζω τοῦ τοιούτου, ᾗ ἰσχυρότατος ὁ σεισμὸς ἐγένετο, κατὰ τοῦτο ἀποστέλλειν τε
τὴν θάλασσαν καὶ ἐξαπίνης πάλιν ἐπισπωμένην βιαιότερον τὴν ἐπίκλυσιν ποιεῖν·
ἄνευ δὲ σεισμοῦ οὐκ ἄν μοι δοκεῖ τὸ τοιοῦτο ξυμβῆναι γενέσθαι (Thuc. 3.89.4–5).38
The cause of the seaquake—a totally impersonal force—is to be found in the
earthquake, without which such an accident would have never happened.39

curity felt by doctors about their own position led them to claim the scientific quality of
medicine, and to insist on the distinction between doctor and layman. Cf. Lloyd (1978):
9–60.
35 This image goes back to Alcmaeon, according to whom health lies in the isonomia of
certain powers (dynameis) in the body. Lloyd (1978): 29–30.
36 Hornblower (1987): 110–135.
37 Cf. above. Cf. also Robert (1976): 325.
38 ‘At Peparethus there was also a withdrawal of the sea, but not in this case followed by
a surge: and an earthquake demolished part of the wall, the town hall, and a few other
buildings. I believe the cause of this phenomenon to be that the sea retires at the point
where the seismic shock is strongest, and is then suddenly flung back with all the greater
violence, creating the inundation. I do not think that tidal waves could occur without an
earthquake’ (transl. by M. Hammond).
39 Scholars suggest today that links are also found between Herodotus’Histories and contem-
porary medicine, in the sense that the historian appears to be familiar with Hippocratic
methods and background in explaining the causes of diseases. Cf. Thomas (2000): 28–74.
historical causation 173

As we have seen in the previous section, there is a pattern in the ho express-

ing the true intentions and thoughts of people along with the specious rea-
sons put forward, that is, the βούλομαι (‘will’) ~ προφασίζομαι (‘pretext’) schema.
This sharp contrast between true personal motivations and alleged prophaseis
is already found in Herodotus’ narrative. When the Spartan king Leutychides
came to Athens and demanded back hostages, the Athenians were unwilling
to give them back and made excuses, saying that two kings had given them the
trust and they deemed it wrong to return them to one without the other: ὡς
δὲ ἀπικόμενος Λευτυχίδης ἐς τὰς Ἀθήνας ἀπαίτεε τὴν παρακαταθήκην, οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι
προφάσις εἷλκον οὐ βουλόμενοι ἀποδοῦναι, φάντες δύο σφέας ἐόντας βασιλέας παραθέ-
σθαι καὶ οὐ δικαιοῦν τῷ ἑτέρῳ ἄνευ τοῦ ἑτέρου ἀποδιδόναι (Hdt. 6.86.1). For his part,
Thucydides says that on the eve of the first Sicilian expedition, the Athenians
sent it upon the plea of their common descent, but in reality they wanted to pre-
vent a Sicilian exportation of corn to the Peloponnese and to test the possibility
of bringing Sicily into subjection: καὶ ἔπεμψαν οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι τῆς μὲν οἰκειότητος
προφάσει, βουλόμενοι δὲ μήτε σῖτον ἐς τὴν Πελοπόννησον ἄγεσθαι αὐτόθεν πρόπει-
ράν τε ποιούμενοι εἰ σφίσι δυνατὰ εἴη τὰ ἐν τῇ Σικελίᾳ πράγματα ὑποχείρια γενέσθαι
(3.86.4). Again, when the second Athenian expedition to Sicily was expected to
happen, Hermocrates’ words made clear a similar interplay between Athenian
propaganda and true motives: Ἀθηναῖοι γὰρ ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς, ὃ πάνυ θαυμάζετε, πολλῇ
στρατιᾷ ὥρμηνται καὶ ναυτικῇ καὶ πεζῇ, πρόφασιν μὲν Ἐγεσταίων ξυμμαχίᾳ καὶ Λεον-
τίνων κατοικίσει, τὸ δὲ ἀληθὲς Σικελίας ἐπιθυμίᾳ, μάλιστα δὲ τῆς ἡμετέρας πόλεως,
ἡγούμενοι, εἰ ταύτην σχοῖεν, ῥᾳδίως καὶ τἆλλα ἕξειν (6.33.2). Both Herodotus and
Thucydides give examples of collective responsibilities: they show the purposes
of all Athenians, seen as a whole. Is it right to assert that collective respon-
sibilities are not very relevant for the Oxyrhynchus historian, since the ho’s
text shows mostly intentions and motives of single individuals, Conon, a small
group of politicians, Agesilaus? One may object that it is not possible to make
such a claim on the basis of some 20 lacunose pages of fragments out of a work
that must have been several hundred pages long. Moreover, there might be a
further objection too: in Thucydides both Alcibiades and Cleon appear as very
manipulative men who mislead the Athenian people and achieve their goals
(5.40–45 and 4.26.3). Despite that, however, Thucydides does not make any
individuals really responsible for Athenian policy-making. The best example
comes perhaps from Pericles. On the eve of the Peloponnesian war the Athe-
nian decision to form an alliance with Corcyra (rather than with Corinth) was
controversial and led to a lively debate within the Athenian assembly (1.44.1).
Unlike Plutarch,40 who with reference to that episode credits a collective action

40 Per. 29.1. The biographer tends to ascribe collective decisions to single individuals.
174 chapter 8

to Pericles alone, Thucydides does not attribute to the statesman the decision
to go to war. It is true that Pericles’ speech assumes forcefulness, as it is reported
by the narrator without any answering speech on opposite sides (Thuc. 1.141–
145), and this seems to stress the centrality of the politician in dealing with war
strategy. Nonetheless this masks that Athens’ refusal to meet Sparta’s demands
was due to the lack of political rivalry within Athens herself at the time of Per-
icles’ government.41 It also implies that that war was the inevitable result of
the growth in Athenian power and that Pericles’ resolution was coherent with
the necessity of maintaining that power. Conversely, the main protagonists of
the ho carry personal responsibility for their own military strategies in Asia
as well as for their military choices. The reader will notice that, not without
irony perhaps, both Conon and Agesilaus are similar in many leading traits
to the Persian usurper Cyrus, and are thus associated to an ideal type of man
who, not well integrated in his native political system, is viewed with suspicion
also among Greek authorities.42 Only Conon’s prothumia, as in the past that of
Cyrus, saved the King’s campaign, and, needless to say, throughout the narra-
tive he is seen as fully involved in Persian affairs, so that the reader might even
neglect any implications for Athens of Conon’s military activity. Again, espe-
cially those among the Mysians who were independent (that is, not subjected
to the King) chose to participate in the Spartan expedition of Agesilaus, shar-
ing efforts and maybe objectives.43 People not well integrated in their political
system sided with Agesialus, who, for his part, was criticised by Spartan author-
ities. As the use of the concept of polypragmosyne/polypragmoneo has shown,
the Oxyrhynchus historian appears to be mainly interested in telling stories
related to individuals and groups responsible for war actions. Responsibilities,
previously seen as collective become here mostly individual. Take, for exam-
ple, Thucydides’ concern for the characterisation of Corinthians, Spartans and
Athenians, seen as a whole, which emerges from the speeches that he makes
them deliver on the eve of the Peloponnesian war.

8.3 Visibility and Clarity in Historical Causation

The reflections so far on historical causation and individuals’ responsibilities

lead us to go further, and to deepen our exploration: the role played by the

41 From a comic fragment we know that Cleon was active already in 431 bc. Hermippus fr. 47
Kassel. Cf. Rood (1998): 32.
42 14.2; 20.6.
43 21.1.
historical causation 175

notions of clarity, visibility, visual language and by the related issue of lack of
visibility is here discussed. In fact the language of causation both in Hippocratic
texts and in historical ones has shown itself as oscillating between the opposing
concepts of φανερόν ~ ἀφανές and related semantic fields (above, 8.1). Φανερόν,
σαφές and cognates may be meant in a metaphorical sense with reference
to what is distinctly seen and clearly understood, in contrast with specious
or unclear reasons, explanations, or motives adduced by speakers. They may
also be related to ‘visibility’ in a more concrete sense, like that conveyed by
descriptions of physical realities, such as, for example, battles and ambushes.
Our point is to understand how far both meanings are relevant for Thucydides
as well as for the Oxyrhynchus historian, and whether the ho depends on
Thucydidean patterns.
Dionysius, criticising Thucydides’ shaping of his narrative, reproaches the
historian for having given two causes of the war (διττὰς δὲ ταύτας44 ὑποθέμενος),
the true (τήν τε ἀληθῆ μέν), which was not publicised (οὐκ εἰς ἅπαντας δὲ λεγομέ-
νην), that is, the growth of Athenian power, and the false (καὶ τὴν οὐκ ἀληθῆ μέν),
which was invented by the Spartans, that is, the Athenian sending of an allied
force to help the Corcyreans against the Corinthians. Nevertheless, continues
Dionysius, contrary to what he should have done, he did not begin his narra-
tive from the true cause (οὐκ ἀπὸ τῆς ἀληθοῦς), but from the other (De Thuc.
10.13–18). Yet, as we have seen, it is not so much and not only a matter of oppo-
sition between truth and falsehood, true or false causes; the historian develops
a rather complex view that implies different degrees both of truth and of clar-
ity. For some reasons the truest cause of the war remained the most unclear
(ἀφανεστάτην) in what was openly said (1.23); and, moreover, the general aim of
Thucydides’ writing was to give the reader a clear insight (τὸ σαφές)—he does
not speak of truth!—of those events for a better understanding of such or sim-
ilar happenings in the future (1.22). Furthermore, as we shall see, the φανερόν ~
ἀφανές pattern may also explain events.
Besides that evident mismatch between what was openly said to explain the
war and real underlying motivations,45 a similar sort of gulf between words
and intentions can be found particularly in those speeches that accompany
the political initiatives taken by Alcibiades. Needless to say, all kinds of speech
(direct, indirect, free indirect) in all literary genres contain a certain degree of
manipulation, and in Thucydides there are plenty of disingenuous discourses.
It has been suggested, for example, that book eight differentiates itself particu-

44 τὰς αἰτίας.
45 Thuc. 1.67–86.
176 chapter 8

larly from the others in that its speeches are manifestly insincere, since speak-
ers try to persuade their audiences through falsehoods, artfully invented.46
However, rather than discovering the falsehoods that lie behind what is said,47
or showing clashes between speeches and deeds,48 we intend to discuss those
cases in which more subtle reasons would remain unclear in speeches, if the
narrator did not unveil them. So, for instance, though Alcibiades considered
that an alliance with the Argives would be really more profitable than siding
with the Spartans, it was especially for the resentment felt against the Athenians
(φρονήματι φιλονικῶν ἠναντιοῦτο, 5.43.2) that he supported the Argive alliance
by deceiving the Athenians. They had slighted him by excluding him from the
peace negotiations (the peace of Nicias). Therefore he alleged that the Spar-
tans were not to be trusted, since they wanted to be allied of the Athenians
to overthrow the Argives and to proceed against the Athenians, once they had
been isolated (5.43.3). Later, when Spartan plenipotentiary ambassadors went
to Athens and spoke to the boule for renewing the peace of Nicias, making
moreover good offers to the Athenians, Alcibiades adopted a device (μηχανᾶ-
ται δὲ πρὸς αὐτοὺς τοιόνδε τι). He persuaded (πείθει) them not to admit before
the assembly that they had come with full powers, with the promise of restor-
ing Pylos to Sparta. But his real intention—says the narrator—was to detach
those ambassadors from Nicias, once he had accused them publicly before that
assembly of insincere intentions and of never saying the same things (5.45.2–
4):

2. He persuaded them [the Spartan ambassadors], adding his personal

guarantee, that if they disavowed the possession of full authority when
they appeared before the assembly, he would secure them the return of
Pylos (using his own influence with the Athenians as strongly in their
support as it had so far been in opposition) and ensure reconciliation
in all other matters. 3. His real purpose (βουλόμενος) in these dealings
was to distance the Spartan envoys from Nicias and to give himself the
opportunity to denounce the Spartans in the assembly as insincere in
their professed intentions and never consistent from one statement to
the next—and so to achieve alliance with Argos, Elis, and Mantinea.
4. The plan worked. When the envoys appeared before the people and

46 Greenwood (2006): 83–108.

47 Cleon, for example, lies deliberately after bad news from Pylos comes to Athens (Thuc.
4.27); Themistocles dupes the Spartans in order to build the city walls (Thuc. 1.100). See
Greenwood (2006): 57–82.
48 Consider the controversial figure of Brasidas, for instance.
historical causation 177

were asked if they had fully authority, they replied that they did not, a
statement quite contrary to what they had said in the council. At this
the Athenians lost patience, and with Alcibiades inveighing against the
Spartans yet more strongly than ever they followed his lead and were
ready to bring in the Argive envoys and their colleagues and make an
alliance there and then.49

Besides, while Nicias’ feeling and reasoning (ἀκούσιος μὲν ᾑρημένος ἄρχειν, νομί-
ζων δὲ τὴν πόλιν οὐκ ὀρθῶς βεβουλεῦσθαι, ἀλλὰ προφάσει βραχείᾳ καὶ εὐπρεπεῖ
τῆς Σικελίας ἁπάσης, μεγάλου ἔργου, ἐφίεσθαι) mostly fit the speeches and the
strategies of persuasion he adopted in order to dissuade the Athenians from
the second Sicilian expedition (6.8.4–14.1), Alcibiades’ personal reasons and
ambitions (βουλόμενος τῷ τε Νικίᾳ ἐναντιοῦσθαι, ὢν καὶ ἐς τἆλλα διάφορος τὰ πολι-
τικὰ καὶ ὅτι αὐτοῦ διαβόλως ἐμνήσθη, καὶ μάλιστα στρατηγῆσαί τε ἐπιθυμῶν καὶ
ἐλπίζων Σικελίαν τε δι’ αὐτοῦ καὶ Καρχηδόνα λήψεσθαι καὶ τὰ ἴδια ἅμα εὐτυχήσας
χρήμασί τε καὶ δόξῃ ὠφελήσειν, 6.15.2) are not fully transparent in the arguments
deployed throughout his speech. It is true that he appeals to his ancestors, his
Olympic prizes, as well as his military achievements, in order to demonstrate
that despite his youth he is worthy to command. And, as regards the Atheni-
ans’ reason for carrying out an expedition of that sort, he shows the insightful
view that internal political divisions had weakened Syracuse; her instability
was mainly due to the frequent changes in the body of citizens made by the
tyrants. Nevertheless, later he offers generic statements that forecast an unre-
alistc scenario: the Athenians should assist their allies in consideration of even-
tual menaces coming from western peoples. Furthermore, since the Athenians
were not able to exercise a careful stewardship of the limits of their empire
they should intervene (‘it is necessary to plot against some and not let go our
hold upon others, because there is a danger of coming ourselves under the
empire of others should we not ourselves hold empire over other people,’ 6.15–
18.3).
In an analogous way, a mismatch between what was publicly said and peo-
ple’s true intentions can be found in the ho. The Thebans connected with
Androcleidas’ and Ismenias’ party wanted to overthrow the Spartan empire;
they thought that they could achieve it easily by supposing that the King would
support them financially, and that Athenians, Corinthians and Argives would
share in that war because of their long-standing enmity towards the Spartans.
Yet, reasoning that they could not attack openly the Spartans nor involve the

49 Transl. by M. Hammond.
178 chapter 8

Thebans and Boeotians openly in a war against Sparta, they resorted to a device.
They persuaded some among the Phocians to attack the Locrian territory (18.1–
2):

1. The party of Androcleidas and Ismenias hastened to engage the peo-

ple in war against the Spartans, wanting (βουλόμενοι) to overthrow their
empire, so that they would not be swept aside by the Spartans because
of the pro-Spartan party. They thought (οἰόμενοι) that they would achieve
this easily, supposing that the King would provide the money which the
envoy from Persia had promised, and that the Corinthians, Argives and
Athenians would share in the war, since, being enemies of the Spartans,
they would secure the support of their citizens. 2. This was their analysis
of the situation ([δι]ανοηθέντες); but they thought that it would be difficult
to attack them openly (ἀπὸ μὲν τοῦ φα|νεροῦ), since neither the Thebans
nor the Boeotians would ever be persuaded to make war on the Spartans,
who were supreme in Greece. This was the trick they used to lead them
into war: they persuaded (ἀνέπεισαν) certain men among the Phocians to
launch an attack on the territory of the western Locrians. Enmity between
them arose from the following cause (αἰτία τοιαύτη). […]

The underlying cause (αἰτία τοιαύτη) of enmity between Phocians and Locrians
is used by Androcleidas’ men to lead the Phocians to invade Locris, so as to
involve in the conflict both the Boeotians, in aid of the Locrians, and the
Spartans, who were close supporters of the Phocians (18.3). Here the whole
matter was not clear to all sides, and what may have been said openly to the
Phocians (ἀνέπεισαν) did not fit the real motives of the speakers.
Furthermore, also in more ‘physical’ terms visibility plays an interesting
role in the ho’s text. Visual language accompanies Conon’s strategy at Rhodes:
each day he reviewed the soldiers with their weapons at the harbour, with the
true aim (βου|[λόμε]νος) of raising the Rhodians’ morale. According to his rea-
soning, by seeing (ἐὰν ἴ]δωσιν) the soldiers in armour they would in fact be
prompter to act and overthrow the oligarchy of the island (15.1, ll. 351–352). His
specious statement (προφασιζόμενος)—he wanted in that way to prevent his
troops from becoming lazy and unfit for the war—was presumably clear to all.
In the account of the democratic putsch at Rhodes, the text puts great empha-
sis on the Rhodians’ sight (ὡς δὲ σύνηθες ἅ]πασιν ἐποί|[ησεν] ὁρᾶν τὸν ἐξετα[σμόν,
15.1, ll. 353–354), but, paradoxically, it is indeed the absence of Conon, the man
who pulls the strings (βου]λόμενος | [μὴ π]αρεῖναι τῇ διαφθο[ρᾷ τῶν ἀρχόντω]ν̣,
15.1, ll. 355–356), that marks the starting-point of the overthrowing of the Rho-
dian government.
historical causation 179

That visibility and lack of it, connected to theatres of war, has deep roots
in Greek literature is undeniable, and the record of quotations and examples
might be innumerable. Nevertheless, as we shall see, the Oxyrhynchus his-
torian seems distinctively Thucydidean in shaping his narrative according to
the φανερόν ~ ἀφανές pattern connected to battle descriptions and ambushes.
Thucydides, for his part, is pioneering in his attempt to explore in rational terms
the complex relation between ‘seen’ and ‘unseen.’ Let us turn, then, to his reflec-
tions on the battle of Epipolae which emphasise the importance of visibility
and lack of it (7.44.1):

The Athenians were now thrown into such helpless confusion that it was
not been easy to establish from either side a detailed account of what
exactly happened. Events are clearer (σαφέστερα) in daytime operations,
but even then the participants have no overall picture, but only a vague
knowledge of what was going on in their own particular area. In a night
battle—and this was the only one fought between large armies in the
whole of the war—how could anyone be certain of anything (σαφῶς)?
There was a bright moon, and as happens in moonlight they could see
each other (ἑώρων) as human shapes (ὄψιν τοῦ σώματος προορᾶν) from
some distance, but without any confident recognition of friend or foe.

These statements might be read as a sort of metatextual allusion to the diffi-

culty that an author faces with when he shapes the narrative in order to give
to readers as well as to other writers a bird’s-eye view of the events; the nar-
rator recognises the partial outlook of ‘who sees the happenings’ in ways that
go beyond the limits properly related to the conditions of visibility or lack of
visibility for the onlookers.
The cognitive element is indeed important in Thucydides’ Histories. For
instance, in the first expedition against Amphipolis (Thuc. 4.81–108) Brasidas
based his strategy on the awareness of the gaze of the others, of public recep-
tion, showing himself moderate and fair (108); the narrator’s focus on percep-
tions reinforces that appearance: Brasidas seemed a good man in every respects
(4.81.2–3).50 People’s perceptions explain the events of the aftermath of the
Athenian capture of Megara’s port: the awareness that the Megarians were wait-
ing to see which side would win (the Athenian or the Spartan) was one of the

50 As in the speeches on Mytilene (3.13.7; 39.7; 46.2), so also in the speech delivered by
Brasidas to the Acanthians (85.5–6) he appeals to the perceptions of others. In order to
be received in their alliance, he manipulates the Acanthians by playing with the sense of
how other people will perceive them. Cf. Rood (1998): 69–82.
180 chapter 8

factors that led Brasidas’ army to occupy a convenient position and to remain
quiet till the Athenians withdrew; another factor was Brasidas’ perception that
the Athenians might not want to fight, so that the Spartans could gain with-
out battle what they came for (4.73).51 In the account of the renewed military
operations at Amphipolis (5.6–13), visibility is artfully expressed through visual
language:52 Brasidas encamped on high ground (ἐπὶ μετεώρου), not far from
Amphipolis, in a place that commanded a view in all directions (κατεφαίνετο
πάντα αὐτόθεν), so that the enemy (Cleon) could not move his army without
being seen (οὐκ ἂν ἔλαθεν αὐτὸν). Brasidas’ expectation—that Cleon would go
up against Amphipolis (5.6.3)—turns out to be true (5.7.1),53 while Cleon’s train
of thoughts will reveal itself to be wrong. Posting his force on a strong hill before
Amphipolis, he thought that he could withdraw whenever he pleased without
a battle, as no-one was visible (ἐφαίνετο) on the wall of Amphipolis or was seen
coming out by the gates of that city which were closed (5.7.5). The narrative of
the battle, shaped between foresight (that of Brasidas) and lack of foresight (of
Cleon), is not without paradoxes. As has been noticed, ‘everything comes into
view while Cleon is looking in the wrong place.’54 That is, when Brasidas came
down from his high hill and was seen (φανεροῦ γενομένου αὐτοῦ) in the city while
sacrificing, the news was referred to Cleon, who at the same time had gone for-
ward to get a view (κατὰ τὴν θέαν) of the situation; and because he could not
risk a battle without reinforcements he ordered his men to retreat (5.10).
In the narrative of the stand-off at Pylos (4.29–34),55 the train of Demos-
thenes’ thoughts, grounded on the past experience,56 comes to be at odds with
what follows next. Because the island of Sphacteria was for the most part cov-
ered with woods and had no roads—so thinks Demosthenes—the Spartans
could attack from an unseen position (ἐξ ἀφανοῦς χωρίου) and inflict damage
upon a large army after it had landed; their eventual mistakes would not be
manifest (δῆλα) to the Athenians, while those of the Athenians would be totally
clear (καταφανῆ ἂν εἶναι πάντα τὰ ἁμαρτήματα) to their opponents (4.29.3). Yet,

51 Cf. Rood (1998): 63–69.

52 Greenwood (2006): 19–41.
53 Note that Brasidas’ perceptions come to be true at Megara as well as on this occasion: ‘I
[Brasidas] imagine that the enemy ascended the hill in overlooking (κατὰ θέαν) us and
because they could not have expected that anybody would come out for battle against
them, and now, with broken ranks and intent upon reconnoitering, are taking small
account of us.’ (5.9.3–4).
54 Greenwood (2006): 28.
55 Cf. Rood (1998): 26–39.
56 Thuc. 3.97–98.
historical causation 181

a little later Demosthenes got a better view of the Spartans at Sphacteria, real-
ising moreover that they were more numerous than he had previously thought.
Furthermore, he also found that it was less difficult to make a landing on the
island than he had supposed (4.30.3). Unlike those of Brasidas, then, his percep-
tions reveal themselves to be wrong, since, at the end, the Athenian reinforce-
ment could land even without being seen by the foe (λαθόντες τὴν ἀπόβασιν,
4.32.1), and in the course of the battle it was the Spartans who rather lost sight
of what was going on (ἀποκεκλῃμένοι μὲν τῇ ὄψει τοῦ προορᾶν, 4.34.3).
Similarly to Thucydides’ view, in the ho people’s sights and perceptions in
battles, including their wrong perceptions, are tools that explain their actions.
In the descriptions of the two battles involving Agesilaus in Asia during the
Lydian and Mysian campaigns (11.4–5; 21.2), the ‘unseen’ along with what is ‘vis-
ible’ is a decisive feature in determining future developments and outcomes. In
close agreement with Xenocles, who laid in ambush waiting for the barbarians,
Agesilaus served as a decoy, leading his army forward in order to draw the atten-
tion of the barbarians in mass. To some extent he should foresee what would
follow, since we read later that the barbarians all together pursued the Greeks as
they were accustomed to doing so (συνα[κολουθήσ]αντες | ὡς εἰώθεσα[ν, 11.4). For
his part Xenocles, unseen and possibly without a clear view of what was going
on, and basing only on his own assumption (ὑπ]έλαβεν), decided to become
visible (ἀνα[στήσ]ας ἐκ τῆς ἐνέδρας), launching his attack. Agesilaus’ decision
to continue pursuing the barbarians is made after seeing (κατιδὼν) their dis-
order (they fled all over the plain) and terror (11.5). Furthemore, there is one
example in the ho which shows that what is visible may be largely deceitful.
In the Mysian campaign Agesilaus posted in ambush most of the Dercylidean
mercenaries, and led his army forward. His strategy seems to repeat what he
had previously done in Lydia, and thus here too the unseen ambush will be
decisive. But what mainly deceives the Mysians turns out to be what is indeed
visible to them, that is, their own perception of Agesilaus’ march: ‘they thought
(οἰηθ[έντες) that Agesilaus was going away on account of the loss received on
the previous day, and they came out of their villages and began to pursue him
with the intention of attacking the rearguard in the same way’ (21.2).
One might wonder how distinctively Thucydidean this narrative develop-
ment can be. Now, there are several cases of descriptions of ambushes in Thucy-
dides’ narrative,57 and one in particular, rich of details, puts analogous stress on
visibility and lack of visibility (4.67.1–5). In the account of the Athenian attack
on Megara what is ‘covered’ and thus ‘unseen’ will be decisive for the good

57 2.81.5; 3.90.2–3; 3.108.1; 3.112.6; 5.56.4; 7.32.2.

182 chapter 8

outcome of the enterprise. There is a twofold deceit, a twofold ambush: the

one comes from the Athenian company that, under cover of night (ὑπὸ νύκτα)
after landing near Megara (at Minoa), took position in a ditch (ἐν ὀρύγματι ἐκα-
θέζοντο); the other is led by the Athenian general Demosthenes, who, with a
company of light-armed Plataeans, and in collaboration with some Megarian
traitors, set an ambuscade at Enyalius, not far from Megara. During that night
no-one perceived (ᾔσθετο οὐδεὶς) what was going on except the men who knew
the business (οἷς ἐπιμελὲς ἦν εἰδέναι). Each night they regularly opened the gates
of the city, drew a sculling boat on a cart and, putting it out to the sea, sailed to
check the area around the harbour. Before daybreak (πρὶν ἡμέραν εἶναι πάλιν),
however, they carted the boat back into the fortifications, so that if no boat
were visible near the harbour (μὴ ὄντος ἐν τῷ λιμένι πλοίου φανεροῦ μηδενός),
their work would pass unnoticed (ἀφανὴς δὴ εἴη ἡ φυλακή) to the Athenians at
Minoa (4.67.4–5):

4. On this occasion the wagon was already at the gates, and they were
opened as usual to let the boat in: seeing (ἰδόντες) their moment (all this
was part of the preconcerted plan) the Athenians charged out from their
ambush, running fast to reach the gates before they could be shut again
and while the wagon was still between them to prevent their closing. At
the same time their Megarian collaborators killed the guards on the gates.
5. The first to run inside (at the point where the trophy now stands) were
the Plataeans and border-guards with Demosthenes.

The trick of the boat that on a cart goes through the city gates allowing the
enemies to come into the fortifications from the shore seems, moreover, a far-
away Homeric echo. Similar emphasis on night operations, when the lack of
visibility conceals men and movements, can be found in a fragment of the
Florence papyrus. The damaged state of its preservation allow us to say with cer-
tainty only that we are dealing with a clandestine night exchange of messages
between a man named Myndos, or coming from the Carian town Myndos, and
an Athenian harmost, who was on guard at the walls of a city, whose name is
unknown. The man who was outside the city laid low in the wood; the Athe-
nian, after taking over his guard duty, sent signals to that man, who then came
out from the forest, and the two communicated through messages tied to a rope
(psi xiii 1304, 5.2):58

58 For scholarly discussions about chronology, see Cf. Mariotta (2001): 167–174.
historical causation 183

For with him … 2. in the temple of Demeter and Persephone, which is

[near?] the walls … through the … had happened … the wood … but he
stood about at night and kept quiet for some time having hidden himself
in the wood. But when the Athenian was standing at his post he, letting
down a rope over the wall, would make a sign that he had taken over the
guard duty, either by calling or by throwing a stone, and the Myndian
coming out the wood first of all would take and keep any note that might
have been let down by him; then he would himself attach another note to
the rope.

This set of actions, that may be also part of an ambush or at least a preparation
phase, adds auditive elements to the Thucydidean visual pattern: the Athenian
gave signals to the man by calling him or throwing a stone (ἢ φθεγξάμενο[ς ἢ
λί]|θῳ βαλών); this is in fact unknown to Thucydides’ descriptions of ambushes
and battles, where visibility predominates. Possibly the Anabasis of Xenophon
would open the way for a further development of that pattern. There is one
example of ambush accompained with aural aspects other than with visual
perceptions and people’s thoughts. In a day-time ambush the brightness of
bronze-shields makes men particularly visible. In the course of the action a
Mysian man who had led the attack against the Greeks is heard shouting for
help by his men, who consequently came out to pick him up and assist him:
οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι Κρῆτες (ἁλίσκεσθαι γὰρ ἔφασαν τῷ δρόμῳ), ἐκπεσόντες ἐκ τῆς ὁδοῦ εἰς
ὕλην κατὰ τὰς νάπας καλινδούμενοι ἐσώθησαν, ὁ Μυσὸς δὲ κατὰ τὴν ὁδὸν φεύγων
ἐβόα βοηθεῖν· καὶ ἐβοήθησαν αὐτῷ, καὶ ἀνέλαβον τετρωμένον, An. 5.2.31–32.

8.4 Thebes, or Intra-Greek Hostility

The Oxyrhynchus historian’s account of the Theban responsibilities in lead-

ing the Greeks to war (18.1–2) is interesting for more than one reason. It recalls
the language of causation as well as the notion of ‘visibility’ in historical devel-
opments, both reminiscent of Thucydides’ narrative. In addition, it reminds
us of the analogous reading that Xenophon himself gives of the causes of the
outbreak of the Corinthian war (Hell. 3.5.3). We have already suggested (ch. 6)
that the Oxyrhynchus historian, possibly in response to Xenophon’s narrative,
tries to clarify the responsibilities concerning especially the Thebans on the
eve of the Corinthian war; the insertion of a digression on the Boeotian con-
stitution appears to be coherent with the authorial intent of distinguishing
the Theban responsibilities from those of the rest of the confederate cities.
We have shown that Xenophon, for his part, is aware of Thebes’ hegemonic
184 chapter 8

aspirations just before the outbreak of that war, and that some events (i.e.
the account of the coup of Sycion led by Euphron in 367bc) suggest that the
historian puts emphasis on the Theban responsibilities throughout his narra-
tive.
Now it is time to ask whether we are dealing indeed with a sort of narrative
cliché on the Thebans. The question is to find out whether a shared stereotyp-
ical view of Thebes, that might go back a long way, is particularly a feature of
historiographical rhetoric, traceable in several authors in a way that transcends
references to specific contexts or contingencies.
The issue of responsibilities in the ho’s text seems to hint at features typical
of the ‘character’ of the Thebans: they are seen as a manipulative people who
pull the strings behind the scenes. The plan of a Phocian attack on the Locrian
territory is secretly devised by the Thebans (a party) in order to involve the
Greeks in that conflict (18.1–2). In some ways this is reminiscent of Thucyd-
ides’ account of the Theban attack on Plataea of 431 bc (2.1–6). Both accounts
involve a small-scale furtive attack that escalates into a full-scale war (the
Peloponnesian war there, the Corinthian here); in Thucydides too, like in the
ho, the Thebans acted in secret with some people who could facilitate the
achievement of their goal: a furtive attack was launched by those Thebans
who plotted in connection with some Plataeans. The entry of the Thebans into
Plataea was, in fact, due to the party of those Plataeans who, led by Naucleides,
sought to use their political power as a means to get control over their city; this
happened at the expense of their political enemies. Naucleides negotiated, on
the Theban side, with Eurymachus, son of Leontiades (2.2–3):

2. The Thebans were invited and the gates opened to them by a group of
Plataeans, Naucleides and his party, who for motives of personal power
wished to eliminate their opponents among the citizens and align the city
with Thebes. 3. Their agent in this was one of the most influential men in
Thebes, Eurymachus the son of Leontiades.

It is interesting to notice that the same Eurymachus is mentioned by Herodotus

in relation to the story of the surrender to Xerxes of the Theban contingent
at Thermopylae. Leontiades, the Theban leader of that military force, was the
first to be branded with the King’s marks, and his son was later killed by the
Plataeans (7.233.2). Here Herodotus does not give a full and detailed account of
the attack on Plataea; he is rather interested in telling the story of Eurymachus’
death. The historian alludes to it presumably because the Plataean episode
was perceived as a quite familiar and recent event. However, by way of con-
necting Eurymachus’ family with Leontiades, he might also imply some sort of
historical causation 185

continuity not only in the unfortunate fate of both,59 but also in their charac-
ter and behaviour. That Herodotus gives some negative examples of Theban
conduct is shown, moreover, by the fact that some of the Thebans before the
battle of Thermopylae are described as staying at Leonidas’ side ‘reluctantly’
and ‘unwillingly’ (7.222); and the choice they made to survive by handing them-
selves over to the Persians (7.233) is given by the narrator not without blame.60
Besides, Thebes’ mythical history is for Herodotus a sort of negative paradigm
that may explain intra-Greek hostilities. Such is the case, for instance, of the
legendary hostility between the two brothers, Eteocles and Polynices, which
is at the origin of the historical hostility between the two kings, Cleomenes
and Demaratus, at Sparta: one of the Heraclides, ancestors of the Spartan
kings, descended indeed from Polynices (6.52.2–8).61 Furthermore, Herodotus’
account of Polynices’ expedition with the Argives against his brother Eteocles
(9.27.2–4) seems to foreshadow and explain both the Greek response to Thebes
after her attack on Plataea and the hostility between Athens and Thebes in
Herodotus’ own day.62
The references that both Xenophon and Isocrates make to this same mythi-
cal episode, that is the Argive expedition led by Polynices against Thebes (Hell.
6.5.46: τῶν μὲν οὖν ὑμετέρων προγόνων καλὸν λέγεται, ὅτε τοὺς Ἀργείων τελευτή-
σαντας ἐπὶ τῇ Καδμείᾳ οὐκ εἴασαν ἀτάφους γενέσθαι, and Paneg. 55: οὗτος μὲν ἐκ
τῆς στρατείας τῆς επὶ Θήβας δεδυστυχηκώς, καὶ τοὺς ὑπὸ τῇ Καδμείᾳ τελευτήσαν-
τας αὐτὸς μὲν οὐ δυνάμενος ἀνελέσθαι …), may suggest that the theme reminded
their audiences of the most recent episode of the Athenian liberation of the
fortress of Thebes, the Cadmea, from the Spartan garrison of 379bc (Hell. 5.4.1–
18). All the more so if, as has been suggested, in moulding his account of the
liberation of Cadmea (Hell. 5.4.1–9), Xenophon appears to have followed the
mythological pattern of the ‘Seven against Thebes,’ differing slighlty from Greek
tradition on that subject: not twelve returners to Thebes (as in Plutarch), but
seven, and no mention of Pelopidas, replaced with the collective and common
effort of the seven heroes willing to return home.63 What is particularly strik-
ing in Xenophon’s depiction of Theban behaviour throughout book five is that
it resembles the picture offered by the Oxyrhynchus historian: the Thebans
appear ready to persuade or corrupt others, and to foment hostilities among
other Greeks (18.1–2). After the liberation of the Cadmea, the Thebans feared

59 Rubincam (1981): 47–49.

60 See Baragwanath (2008): 226.
61 Baragwanath (2008): 173–174.
62 Flower-Marincola (2002): 153–155.
63 Schmitzer (1998): 123–139; Pelling (2013 b): 13–16.
186 chapter 8

for their own safety and wanted to avoid the accusation that they alone made
war against Sparta;64 therefore they corrupted Sphodrias, the Spartan governor
of Thespiae, in order to lead him to invade Attica and, consequently, to make
the Athenians go to war against the Spartans (Hell. 5.4.20):

On their side the Thebans also were alarmed at the prospect of having
to fight against the Spartans entirely by themselves. So they thought out
the following plan. By a bribe, so it was said, they induced Sphodrias, the
Spartan governor at Thespiae, to invade Attica, so that he might force
Athens into war with Sparta.65

Here it is not so much or not only a matter of mere responsibilities, but we

are possibly also dealing with a stereotypical view of the Thebans, that is a
reading which shows them as a particularly selfish people, who cause divisions
among Greeks. This characterisation appears, moreover, to be in line with
poetic (think of Euripides’ Suppliant Women), rhetoric as well as philosophic
evidence. In Plato’s Menexenus the Thebans (identified generically with the
Boeotians) along with the Corinthians and the Argives are mentioned as having
handed the Greeks of the mainland over to the Persians (386);66 and it is also
possible to glimpse here the old charge of medising (245 c). A few Isocratean
statements about Theban behaviour show further developments of the image
of Thebes as a selfish city: ‘the Thebans in the former circumstances in all
their embassies would plead the cause of freedom and independence; but now
that they believe they have secured licence for themselves (νομίζουσιν αὑτοῖς
ἄδειαν γεγενῆσθαι),67 disregarding everything else, they have the effrontery to
speak in defence of their private gain and of their own acts of violence, and
they assert that it is to the advantage of their allies that the Thebans should
have our country …’ (Plataicus [14] 24–25). According to Isocrates, although
the Thebans accused the Spartans of having occupied the Cadmea, Thebes’
dominion over Greece (pleonexia) was not different from that of Sparta ([14]
19–20). The passage suggests a sort of ideal association between Sparta’s and
Thebes’ behaviour, for the notion that the Thebans are selfishly interested in
their own safety echoes a similar idea expressed by Lysias with reference to the

64 The Athenians punished their two generals who were involved in the plot, when they saw
that the Spartans were now going past Attica and invading the country of Thebes (Hell.
5.4.19).
65 Transl. by R. Warner.
66 Dušanić (2005): 115.
67 373 bc.
historical causation 187

Spartans: at the time of the Persian wars they built a wall across the Isthmus
and, happy with their own safety (καὶ ἀγαπώντων μὲν τῇ σωτηρίᾳ), left the
Athenian request for help in abeyance.68 Moreover, for Isocrates the Corinthian
war was due to the hybris of the Thebans, who revealed themselves as unfaithful
and untrustworthy towards both the agreements and their benefactors. This
appears to be in accordance with the Oxyrhynchus historian’s view (Plataicus
[14] 27–29):

27. When the Corinthian war broke out because of their overbearing
conduct (ὕβριν) and the Spartans had marched against them, though
the Thebans had been saved by you [Athenians], they were so far from
showing their gratitude for this service that, when you had put an end
to the war, they abandoned you and entered into the alliance with the
Spartans.69 […] 28. The Thebans, though they dwelt in a city of such
importance, did not have the fortitude even to remain neutral, but were
guilty of such cowardice and baseness (εἰς τοῦτ’ ἀνανδρίας καὶ πονηρίας
ἦλθον) as to give their solemn oath to join the Spartans in attacking you,
the saviours of their city. For this they were punished by the gods, and
after the Cadmea was captured, they were forced to take refuge here in
Athens. By this they furnished the crowning proof of their perfidy (μάλιστ’
ἐπεδείξαντο τὴν αὑτῶν ἀπιστίαν); 29. for when they had again been saved by
your power and were restored to their city,70 they did not remain faithful
for a single instant, but immediately sent ambassadors to Sparta, showing
themselves ready to be slaves and to alter in no respect their former
agreements with Sparta.71 […]

Isocrates’ audience of the Plataicus (371bc) may have in mind the very recent
invasion of Plataea by Thebes (373 bc). Furthermore, the theme of the occupa-
tion/liberation of the Cadmea is contemporary enough to look as historically
valuable in itself; however, it may also be a ‘rhetorical’ theme; after all, the
priority of the speech is to make a plea for an Athenian intervention against
Thebes. Thus the topic of the Cadmea comes over as especially credible for its
mix of recent historical memory and appeal to a comfortably familiar rhetori-
cal stereotype. It is not coincidental that we read a sort of presentism in other
Isocratean hints at the Cadmean fortress, with the echo of a distant legend

68 Lys. [2] 42–46; cf. Hdt 9.7–8 and 7.139.

69 386 bc.
70 379 bc.
71 Transl. by Larue Van Hook.
188 chapter 8

given by the recent memories (ὑπὸ τῇ Καδμείᾳ, [4] 55 and [14] 52–53):72 these
references are made in close association with the saga of the Seven against
Thebes, within speeches, such as the Panegiricus and the Plataicus, that solicit
a military intervention by Athens.
The topic of the liberation of the Cadmea reminded Greek audiences of the
previous occupation of the fortress, along with the decisive role that on that
occasion was played by the Thebans. They acted as instigators and provoca-
teurs of the Spartans (Xen. Hell. 5.2.25–36).73 The division in factions at Thebes
is shown by Xenophon in relation to the events preceding the putsch of the
Cadmea: the polemarchs Leontiades and Ismenias were at variance with one
other and both of them were leaders of political clubs; this is highly familiar
and coherent with the analogous picture that the Oxyrhynchus historian gives
of Theban politics. Are, then, the Thebans instigators and provocateurs, con-
cerned only with their own interest?
Yes, they are. Or, at least, they are represented in that way. They are used
to corrupting people: think of the case of Sphodrias (above, Hell. 5.4.20), for
instance, or that of the Locrians, who received Theban money to attack the
Phocians (the casus belli) just before the Corinthian war broke out (Hell. 3.5.3).
But the Thebans are also particularly manipulative in order to achieve their
political goals. The assistance that Theban ambassadors offered to Athens—in
defence of the victims (τοῖς ἀδικουμένοις) of Spartan imperialism (pleonexia)—
is presented by Xenophon through a speech that the Thebans delivered at
Athens on the eve of the Corinthian war; their assistance is presented as a
means for Athens to recover her old empire. It is not difficult here to see the
fallacious game of the speakers who, while assigning to Thebes that role which
was traditionally held by Athens—of the city that defends the oppressed,
wronged, and victims of injustice74—, try to conceal Thebes’ true intention to
make her own profit from that war (Hell. 3.5.10; 14; 15):

10. Now we are all aware, men of Athens, that you would like to get back
the empire which you used to have. Surely this is most likely to happen if
you go to the help of all victims of Spartan injustice. […] 14. It is not likely,
then, that if you come forward in your turn to take the lead of all those
who have been so obviously injured, you will become much the greatest

72 Cf. Isocr. [12] 171–172. On the two versions of the Athenian intervention in recovering the
Argive fallen (Athens would fight, according to the Panegyricus, or would use diplomacy,
according to the Panathenaicus and Plataicus), see Gray (1994 b): 83–104.
73 Cf. Riedinger (1991): 173–180.
74 See above, ch. 7.1.
historical causation 189

power that has ever existed? […] 15. These, then, are our proposals. Please,
believe us, Athenians, when we say that in our opinion we are inviting you
to take a course which promises much more benefit for Athens than for
Thebes.

Furthermore, Leontiades’ invitation to the Spartan Phoebidas to occupy the

Cadmea (383bc) falls in the time of a religious festival (Xen. Hell. 5.2.26–29),
just as the Theban attack on Plataea of 431 bc did (Thuc. 3.56.2).75 The Thebans
thus take advantage of holiday times to surprise their enemy. The rhetoric used
by Leontiades can be put in close relation with that of the Theban ambassadors
(above), with some striking thematic correspondences: ‘rêve d’ empire chez les
Athéniens, patriotisme et goût de la gloire chez Phoibidas, souci de sécurité
chez les Lacédémoniens; le même art aussi de minimiser, ou même de taire,
les avantages personnels qu’ils en retireront, le même art enfin d’ entraîner
le partenaire dans une aventure incertaine, en taisant les risques, la force de
Sparte pour les Athéniens, la colère de la cité pour Phoibidas, celle des dieux,
dans la perspective de Xénophon pour les Lacédémoniens.’76 Admittedly, this
kind of rhetoric might also fit with every sort of protreptic discourse aimed to
minimise risks and exaggerate the advantages coming from an unpredictable
military intervention. But what is particularly interesting in both cases is that
the Theban rhetoric chiefly contributes to the modelling of the Thebans’ char-
acter, developing a sustained picture which is also fully consistent with their
actions.77
The Oxyrhynchus historian’s audience presumably bore all that in mind, and
they may also have thought of more recent historical developments, especially
in consideration that Thebes was acting now in complete unison with Philip.78
The Athenian general mood toward the Thebans was largely hostile at the time
in which the Oxyrhynchus historian wrote.79 In the fifties, when the Athenian
allies left the league, starting the so-called Social war (357–355 bc), Greece was
seized with anti-Persian fever, and alarming rumours of Persian armaments
spread widely. The Thebans, who had medised in 480 bc and had negotiated a
new alliance with the Persians under Pelopidas in 367bc, were now considered
as potential allies of the King on his expected return. Demosthenes delivering
a speech to the Athenian assembly surprises everyone by doubting that Thebes

75 See Hornblower (2007): 141.

76 Riedinger (1991): 176.
77 Riedinger (1991): 176: ‘Aux Thébains qui parlent, font exactement pendant les Thébains qui
agissent, ceux qu’on voit dans deux manœuvres de provocation.’
78 Dem. [5] 20.
79 See chh. 3, 5 and 6.
190 chapter 8

would really betray the Greek cause in the case of a new invasion by the Persians
(On the Navy [14] 33–34):80

33. Now, if anyone expects the Thebans to take his side, it is difficult to
speak to you about them, because you have such a hearty dislike of them
(διὰ γὰρ τὸ μισεῖν αὐτοὺς) that you would not care to hear any good of them,
even if it were true; but yet, when dealing with grave matters, one must
not on any pretext pass over an important consideration. For my part, I
believe that the Thebans are so little likely to join the King in an attack on
Greece that they would pay a large sum, 34. if they had it, to get a chance
of expiating their former sins against the Greeks (τὰς προτέρας ἀναλύσον-
ται πρὸς τοὺς Ἕλληνας ἀμαρτίας). If, however, some think that the Thebans
are fated always to be on the wrong side, at any rate you all know this, that
if the Thebans stand by the King, their enemies are bound to stand by the
Greeks.81

Though orators’ moods were easily changeable in the course of time—think

of Isocrates’ unconsistent views, for example—and a potential menace might
also become a potential ally,82 it is clear that a stereotypical view about the
Thebans had been affecting and disquieting Greek opinion (in particular, at
Athens) for a long time; so that it became quite familiar to consider them as
a people stained by the mark of medism and selfishness. Therefore, about two
centuries later Polybius (4.31.5–6) censures the Thebans for medising out of
fear during the Persian wars, and criticises Pindar for approving their decision
to remain inactive.83

8.5 Stasis, or the Dimension of Internal Conflict. What Awareness of

Thucydides?

The ho’s narrative resorts to a kind of political language that fits the semantic
sphere of internal political conflict, and is highly reminiscent of Thucydidean

80 Cf. Shrimpton (1971): 310–318.

81 Transl. by J.H. Vince.
82 In the speech For the People of Megalopolis [16], Demosthenes supports an alliance with
Thebes to arrest Spartan pleonexia (21).
83 However, Polybius is incorrect in his treatment of Pindar by quoting f 109, because the
remaining two lines of Polybius’ quotation (known from Stobaeus) show that the poem
did not refer to the Persian wars, but to internal strives. So Hornblower (2004): 60–63.
historical causation 191

terminology. The language of conflict is beyond any doubt intimately related

to themes of historical causation, individual and collective responsibilities. It
is, moreover, interesting to understand to what degree Thucydides’ reading of
Greek staseis can be found in the ho and in Xenophon: they seem to share
the Thucydidean pattern which shows Greek cities as torn between oligoi and
demos.
The Oxyrhynchus historian describes the democratic revolution that took
place at Rhodes in 395 bc as follows (15.2–3):

2. They [Hieronymus and Nicophemus, Conon’s lieutenants] bided their

time during that day, and when the soldiers were there for the review on
the following day in the usual fashion, they led some under arms to the
harbour and others to just outside the market place ([ἔξω τῆ]ς ἀγορᾶς).
Those of the Rhodians who were in the know, when they realised it was
time to undertake the deed, gathered with daggers in the market place (εἰς
τὴν ἀγοράν), and one of them, Dorimachus, got up on the stone where the
herald made announcements, and, shouting out as loud as he could, said
‘Citizens, let’s go for the tyrants as quick as we can!’ As he was shouting for
support, the rest rushed with daggers to the meeting of the magistrates
and killed the Diagorean family and eleven of the other citizens, and
having done this they gathered the mass of the Rhodians into an assembly,
3. and as soon as they were assembled, Conon came back from Caunus
with the triremes. Those who had perpetrated the massacre overthrew
the existing constitution and set up a democracy, and made a few of the
citizens exiles. So this was the outcome of the revolution (ἐπανάστασις) in
Rhodes.

The account is moulded in a way that might remind us of the plot of Cinadon,
even though that remained unfulfilled (Hell. 3.3.4–11). In both cases the agora
is the pre-established place for conspiracy, where the putsch is expected to
start, and where conspirators plan to gather.84 In Xenophon the ephors are
acquainted with the affair by an informer, who tells them that he had been
taken by Cinadon to the edge of the market place (ἐπὶ τὸ ἔσχατον τῆς ἀγορᾶς)
and had been told to consider all people in the agora as potential allies (τοὺς
δ’ ἄλλους πάντας συμμάχους πλέον ἢ τετρακισχιλίους ὄντας τοὺς ἐν τῇ ἀγορᾷ, Hell.
3.3.5). A further noteworthy aspect is the extent of anonymity: the informer, the

84 This is a longstanding topos occurring in different contexts to represent a Greek stasis (see
Plut. Lyc. 5.4).
192 chapter 8

ephors, the other conspirators are unnamed just as the Rhodian plotters, the
magistrates and the killed citizens are; the only personalities which emerge are
Cinadon, on the one side, and Dorimachus, on the other. The massacre of the
oligarchic family at Rhodes can be associated with the even more bloodthirsty
expectations of Cinadon, who would have been glad to eat the Spartiates alive
(ὅπου γὰρ ἐν τούτοις τις λόγος γένοιτο περὶ Σπαρτιατῶν, οὐδένα δύνασθαι κρύπτειν
τὸ μὴ οὐχ ἡδέως ἂν καὶ ὠμῶν ἐσθίειν αὐτῶν, Hell. 3.3.6). By hinting at cannibalism
as expression of the man’s ferocity, Xenophon might have in mind the case of
the Potidaeans, as related by Thucydides: besieged by the Athenians, after great
suffering ‘they even tasted each other’—which is, moreover, the first example of
cannibalism in the classical age (καί τινες καὶ ἀλλήλων ἐγέγευντο, Thuc. 2.70.1).85
It has been rightly noticed that Thucydides, Xenophon and the Oxyrhynchus
historian show great interest in dealing with Greek internal conflicts.86 The
point here is to understand whether and to what extent both Xenophon’s
Hellenica and the ho might share aspects of Thucydides’ view of stasis. The
Thucydidean narrative offers to the reader an extraordinary set of staseis and
prodosiai happening in concomitance with external attacks, in which local in-
terests are closely interwoven with those of the two hegemonic powers, Athens
and Sparta. In a very few cases Thucydides deals with social-economic grounds
of a local revolution,87 and staseis are mostly seen as moments of conflict
between demos/plethos and dynatoi/oligoi, whose social contexts are generally
treated in a stereotypical way. This has been explained by scholars as a result
of Thucydides’ political ‘ideology,’ which would lead him to represent internal
conflicts as seditions caused and fomented mainly by contrasts of ideological
nature.88 In coherence with his historiographical project and dealing with the
biggest conflict ever—the Peloponnesian war—Thucydides’ main concern is
to show oscillations between Athens and Sparta by their respective allies, and
to clarify the allies’ aligning with the one side or the other. The most exemplary
case is offered by the account of the Corcyrean stasis (3.82–84), as it shows that:

[…] everywhere there were internal divisions such that the democratic
leaders called in the Athenians and the oligarchs called in the Spartans.

85 Hornblower (2010): 29. Also Herodotean patterns (temporal formulas) have been found
within the account of Cinadon’s plot; see Gray (1989): 39–45. As for Arcaic times the desire
to eat someone raw is first attested in Hom. Il. 22.346–347: Achilles wishes he had the
courage to eat Hector’s flesh after cutting it.
86 Gehrke (1985): 9.
87 Thuc. 8.21; 5.4.2–4; 4.84.1–2 and 88.1–2. Moggi (1999): 41–72. Cf. Fisher (2000): 83–123.
88 Moggi (1999): 49–54.
historical causation 193

In peacetime they would have had neither the excuse nor the will to invite
this intervention: but in time of war, when alliances were available to
either party to the detriment of their opponents and thereby their own
advantage, there were ready opportunities for revolutionaries to call in
one side or the other.
thuc. 3.82.1

Greece appears as torn between Spartan and Athenian supporters still in the
ho and in Xenophon’s Hellenica. We have already shown that the Oxyrhynchus
historian hands down a picture of Athens and Sparta as that of cities eager
to support their own partisans.89 The Theban stasiasmos which happened
a few years before the outbreak of the Corinthian war (16.1) can be consid-
ered the underlying cause of the war itself, as some years later the Theban
party of Androcleidas will engage the people in that war against the Spartans
(18.1),

Βοιωτοὶ δὲ καὶ Φωκεῖς τούτου τοῦ θέρους εἰς | πόλεμον κατέστησαν. ἐγένοντο
δὲ τῆς ἔχθρας αὐτοῖς | [α]ἴτιοι μάλιστα τῶν ἐν ταῖς Θήβαις τινές· οὐ γὰρ πολλοῖς
| [ἔ]τεσιν πρότερον ἔτυχον εἰς στασιασμὸν οἱ Βοιωτοὶ | προελθόντες.

This summer the Boeotians and the Phocians went to war. Those chiefly
responsible for the bad relations between them were some people in
Thebes. Not many years previously there had been political conflict in
Boeotia.
16.1

The two Theban factions of Androcleidas and Leontiades were involved respec-
tively in Athenian and Spartan politics, as the former sided with the Athenians
(attikizontes), while the latter supported the Spartans (lakonizontes):

Ἐν δὲ ταῖς Θήβαις ἔτυχον οἱ βέλτιστοι καὶ γνω|ριμώτατοι τῶν πολιτῶν, ὥσπερ

καὶ πρότερον εἴρη|κα, στασιάζοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους. ἡγοῦντο δὲ τοῦ μέ|ρους τοῦ
μὲν Ἰσμηνίας κα[ὶ] Ἀντίθεος καὶ Ἀνδροκλ⟨είδα⟩ς, | τοῦ δὲ Λεοντιάδης καὶ Ἀσίας
καὶ Κο⟨ιρα⟩τάδας, ἐφρό|νουν δὲ τῶν πολιτευομένων οἱ μὲν περὶ τὸν Λεοντι|άδην
τὰ Λακεδαιμονίων, [ο]ἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν Ἰσμηνίαν | αἰτίαν μὲν̣ εἶχον ἀττικίζειν, ἐξ
ὧν πρόθυμοι πρὸς | τὸν δῆμον ἐγένοντο ὡς ἔφυγ⟨ε⟩ν·

89 Ch. 5.
194 chapter 8

In Thebes the best and most notable of the citizens, as I have already
said, were in dispute with each other about politics. One faction was
led by Leontiades, Astias, and Coeratadas. Leontiades’ party supported
the Spartans; Ismenias’ party was accused of supporting the Athenians,
arising from their support for the demos when it was in exile.
17.1

This political setting goes back at least to the time of the Decelean war, when
Leontiades’ party was in power at Thebes (17.3). The peculiar attention that the
Oxyrhynchus historian pays to Theban parties struggling for power is some-
thing already emerged from the Thucydidean narrative of the assault on Plataea
(2.1–6). As we have said, Thucydides usually leaves the impression that poli-
tics all over Greece are dominated by supporters of Spartans or Athenians, and
that any change in that balance favours the one side or the other;90 yet in the
Plataean case (2.1–6) the historian abandons his tendency to generalise accord-
ing to the oligoi ~ demos pattern and enters for a while into Theban internal
politics (2.2–3):

2. The Thebans were invited and the gates opened to them by a group
of Plataeans, Naucleides and his party (οἱ μετ’ αὐτοῦ), who for motives of
personal power wished to eliminate their opponents among the citizens
and align the city with Thebes. 3. Their agent in this was one of the most
influential men in Thebes, Eurymachus the son of Leontiades.

The historian names the people involved in that affair. In Thucydides the
expression οἱ μετ’ αὐτοῦ usually carries the nuance of what could be a temporary
physical presence of people around someone (here Naucleides); however, here
it might hint at the abstract idea of ‘the group of followers,’ foreshadowing the
standardised οἱ περί τινα form that in the ho clearly designates political groups
or hetaireiai.91

90 See ch. 7.3.

91 P. Oxy. v 842, 17.2. In Thucydides the expression οἱ περί τινα mostly means ‘troops’ under
someone (4.33.1; 5.13; 6.97.3; 8.28.4; 8.105.2–3), or ‘fellow-ambassadors’ (5.21; 8.67.1); in two
cases it clearly indicates a political group set up around someone (5.46.4; 8.98.1). Also
Xenophon uses the formula οἱ περί τινα with the meaning of partisans (Hell. 3.2.27; 5.3.13;
5.4.49; 6.4.18; 6.5.7) as well as of troops (2.4.6; 3.4.13; 3.4.20; 4.4.9; 4.5.15; 5.1.12; 5.1.26; 6.5.26;
7.2.14; 7.4.15). Cf. Thuc. 3.82.7, where the historian uses the term ξύνοδοι with reference to
political groups of citizens that were active within Greek cities at the time of Corcyra’s
disorders.
historical causation 195

It seems that Xenophon too echoes the Thucydidean picture of a continuing

havoc caused in Greece by staseis as well as the interplay between internal and
external forces. This is found, for instance, in his account of the occupation
of the Cadmea: the Theban fortress was occupied by the Spartan Phoebidas,
who acted in conjunction with the pro-Spartan party of Leontiades at Thebes
(Hell. 5.2.25–36, 383bc). Furthermore, the narrative of the disorders occurred
at Elis (Hell. 3.2.21–31, 402/401bc) as well as at Phlius (Hell. 5.2.8–10; 5.3.10–17;
5.3.21–25, 384bc) shows even more clearly that the Thucydidean explanatory
model of internal divisions and external support is adopted by Xenophon as
a tool for explaining revolutions.92 Elis was attacked by the Spartans, because
she had concluded an alliance with Athenians, Argives and Mantineans and
had committed some impious acts against the Spartans (21–23):

27. […] In the city was Xenias, the man of whom they say that he meas-
ured out the money he got by his father by the bushel, and he and his
party (οἱ περὶ Ξενίαν) were anxious to get the credit for bringing the city
over to the Spartans. So, while the country was being ravaged and Agis’
army was in the neighbourhood of Cyllene, Xenias and his friends, with
swords in their hands, rushed out of a house and began a massacre of their
opponents. After killing a man who looked like Thrasydaeus, the leader
of the democratic party (τοῦ δήμου προστάτῃ), they imagined that it was
really Thrasydaeus whom they had killed, and so the democratic party
lost heart and put up no resistance, 28. while the murderers assumed
that there was nothing more to be done, and those who shared their
views (οἱ ὁμογνώμονες αὐτοῖς) came out and paraded under arms in the
market place (εἰς τὴν ἀγοράν). In fact, however, Thrasydaeus had been
drinking and was still sleeping it off, and as soon as the people realised
that he was not dead they crowded round his house on all sides, as a
swarm of bees crowds round its leader. 29. Thrasydaeus put himself at
their head; there was a battle in which the democrats were victorious,
and those who had tried to seize power by violence fled to the Spar-
tans.
Hell. 3.2.27–29

The stasis is reported in detail and the topic of the agora as the canonical place
where to make a revolt start occurs once again. The narrative makes it clear that
the city was afflicted by internal divisions, for some sympathised with Sparta,

92 Fisher (2000): 110–111.

196 chapter 8

others with Athens, and the two groups were led respectively by Xenias and
Thrasydaeus. The Thucydidean pattern is, thus, found also here.
However, the case of Phlius gives evidence that historical realities were much
more complex than the oligoi ~ demos pattern shows. The pro-Spartan exiled
Phliasians asked Sparta to help them to be restored (Hell. 5.2.8–10). Personal
factors are much more important than political ones: the exiles had many rela-
tions and friends inside Phlius and, moreover, were also supported by others
who wished for a change of government (καὶ γὰρ συγγενεῖς πολλοὶ ἔνδον ἦσαν
τῶν φευγόντων καὶ ἄλλως εὐμενεῖς, καὶ οἷα δὴ ἐν ταῖς πλείσταις πόλεσι νεωτέρων
τινὲς ἐπιθυμοῦντες πραγμάτων κατάγειν ἐβούλοντο τὴν φυγήν, Hell. 5.2.9). Hence
the Phliasian democracy agreed to receive the exiles, but since the restoration
of their property caused endless disputes, the exiles appealed again to Sparta
(Hell. 5.3.11). Agesilaus agreed with those complaints especially because the
followers of Podanemus had been friends of his father (τῷ μὲν πατρὶ αὐτοῦ Ἀρχι-
δάμῳ ξένοι ἦσαν οἱ περὶ Ποδάνεμον) and were now among the restored exiles;
on the other hand, the partisans of Procles were friends of his own (αὐτῷ δὲ οἱ
ἀμφὶ Προκλέα, Hell. 5.3.13). Similarly, it was also personal grounds that, accord-
ing to the Oxyrhynchus historian, influenced the Corinthian Timolaus to set
aside his pro-Spartan disposition and share the Greek cause against Sparta (the
Corinthian war), while other Corinthians wished to bring about a change of
policy (τῶν δὲ Κορινθίων | οἱ μεταστῆσαι τὰ πρά[γμ]ατα ζητοῦντες κτλ. Τ[ιμό]|λαος
δὲ μόνος αὐτοῖς διάφορος γεγονὼς ἰδ[ί]ων ἐγ|κλημάτων ἕνεκα, πρότερον ἄριστα δια-
κείμεν[ος] | καὶ μάλιστα λακωνίζων, 7.3).
From the evidence thus far it is clear that the Thucydidean pattern appears
to be unsatisfactory, because it cannot fit more complex realities. All the more
so as there are cases in which the Thucydidean model has become ‘paradig-
matic;’ it has been readapted to a kind of narrative of exemplary character.
Thucydides’ view of Greek politics has given way to further developments that
have nothing to do with real policies, but show, instead, moral exempla of
good and bad collective behaviour. This is the case of the Cyropaedia, where
Xenophon deals with the theme of stasis and decadence after Cyrus’ death to
show a great distance both temporal and moral between the Persians under
Cyrus and those of Xenophon’s own times. The parallel with Thucydides’ analy-
sis of the Corcyrean revolution is striking, and many Thucydidean motifs recur,
such as betrayal of oaths and mutual distrust (Thuc. 3.82.7; 83.2; Cyr. 8.8.2 f),
devaluation of kinship bonds (Thuc. 3.82.6; Cyr. 8.8.27), injustice and illegality
(Thuc. 3.82.6; 82.8; Cyr. 8.8.5; 8.8.27), impiety (Thuc. 3.82.8; Cyr. 8.8.27).93

93 So Nicolai (2010): 279–289.

historical causation 197

8.6 Conclusion

The Oxyrhynchus historian’s narrative is striking in that the work is broadly

redolent of Thucydides’ view of politics as well as of his theory of causa-
tion. There is one particular Thucydideanism in the text, that is, the constant
recourse to a kind of explanatory mode that echoes two words very familiar
to Thucydides’ readers: prophasis and aitia/aition. The language of causation is
helpful in clarifying the issue of people’s responsibilities; examples from the ho
and Athenian authors have shown that there was a kind of shared stereotypical
view about the Thebans: they are portrayed as a particularly selfish people who
caused divisions among Greeks.
Reflections on historical causation and people’s responsibilities have led us
extend our examination to the role played by clarity, visibility and visual lan-
guage (as well as by the correlated notion of lack of visibility).94 The language of
causation both in Hippocratic texts and in historical ones shows itself as oscil-
lating between the opposing concepts of φανερόν ~ ἀφανές and related semantic
fields. This pattern refers to what is distinctly seen and clearly understood, in
contrast with specious or unclear reasons, explanations or motives adduced by
speakers. It may also be related to ‘visibility’ in a more concrete sense, like that
conveyed by descriptions of physical realities, such as, for example, battles and
ambushes.
The language of conflict is beyond any doubt intimately related to the theme
of historical causation, and the ho’s debt to Thucydides’ view of individual and
collective responsibilities is noteworthy. Thucydides’ reading of Greek staseis
can be found not only in the Oxyrhynchus historian’s narrative but also in
that of Xenophon; their works seem to share the same Thucydidean pattern
of seeing Greek cities as torn between oligoi and demos.

94 Greenwood (2006).
 chapter 9

‘Moralism’ in Historiography

The terminology connected with the language of causation throughout the ho

shows the narrator’s tendency to attribute blame to peoples and their political
actions.1 Consequently, this gives us good reasons to talk in terms of morality.
We need to clarify those aspects related to the moral view conveyed by the
narrative. How does morality work in the ho? Can blame be considered as
part of a broader inspirational and ‘moralistic’ historiographical project? Are
there any precedents or models? These are some of the questions addressed by
this chapter. Other questions concern the exploration of patterns of ‘morality’
and ‘moralism’ in the narrative of Xenophon (Hellenica), Theopompus and
Ephorus; the last two are, moreover, potential candidates for the authoriship
of the ho. This approach can be helpful in showing parallels and differences.

9.1 The ho and Thucydides: What ‘Moralism’?

The ho’s account of the run-up to the Corinthian war (7 and 16–18) is charac-
terised by a continuous interplay between specious reasons and hidden respon-
sibilities. Despite the shared opinion according to which the causes (αἴτια) of
the Corinthian war consisted in the money that an emissary of the King, Tim-
ocrates, granted to some Greek cities to lead them to war against Sparta, the
true reason for going to that war is ultimately to be found in Spartan imperial-
ism. For their part, those Greek cities that participated in that conflict had good
reasons to engage in war against Sparta (7.2):

Some say2 that the money from him [Timocrates] was the cause of con-
certed action by these people and by some of the Boeotians and some
in the other cities previously mentioned. But they do not know that all
had long been ill-disposed (δυσμενῶς ἔχειν) towards the Spartans, look-
ing out for a way that they might make the cities adopt a war policy. For
the Argives and the Boeotians hated (ἐμίσουν) the Spartans because they

1 Cf. ch. 8.
2 The expression τινὲς λέγουσιν (7.2) seems to indicate some who spoke at the time in which
the author wrote.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_010

‘moralism’ in historiography 199

treated as friends their enemies among the citizens (τοῖς ἐναν[τίοι]ς τῶν
πολιτῶν | αὐτοῖς ἐχρῶντο φίλοις).

Other than Sparta, Athens is to be blamed too for an irresponsible imperialistic

policy; besides, her politicians conducted a demagogic policy. Some of the
Athenians were in the habit of supporting Conon in Asia, with weapons and
ships (7.1), as they intended to turn their city to a policy of conquest (7.2):

And those who hated them [the Spartans] in Athens were the people who
desired to turn the Athenians from tranquillity and peace and lead them
towards war and a vigorous policy (πο|λεμεῖν καὶ π[ολ]υπρα[γ]μονεῖν),
so that it might be possible for them to obtain money from the public
treasury.

We have already raised doubts on how reliable this assumption may be, as it
does not seem to correspond to any real vigorous political course that Athens
started pursuing in these years (the 390s).3 To some extent the triggering cause
of the outbreak of the Corinthian war is implicitly related to the policy of
the Athenian democrats, who, according to the Oxyrhynchus historian, were
supported by the Theban party of Androcleidas and Ismenias ([ο]ἱ δὲ περὶ τὸν
Ἰσμηνίαν | αἰτίαν μὲν̣ εἶχον ἀττικίζειν, 17.1), that is the people most responsible
for engaging other Greek cities in that war against the Spartans (18.1–2). It
is possible to find a good deal of blame also in the narrator’s portrait of this
Theban faction, whose policy seems characterised much more by personal
ambition in struggling for power than by a genuine will to support Athens and
the democrats (17.1):

In Thebes the best and most notable of the citizens, as I have already said,
were in dispute with each other about politics (στασιάζοντες πρὸς ἀλλή-
λους). One faction was led by Ismenias, Antitheus and Androcleidas, the
other by Leontiades, Astias, and Coeratadas. Leontiades’ party supported
the Spartans; Ismenias’ party was accused of supporting the Athenians,
arising from their support for the demos when it was in exile. However,
they were not concerned for the Athenians (οὐ μὴν ἐφρόν||[τιζον] τ̣ῶ̣ [ν
Ἀ]θηναίων), but … when … they chose rather … being ready to do evil
(κακῶς ποιεῖν ἑτοίμους).

3 Ch. 5.
200 chapter 9

As we have noticed, the way in which the Oxyrhynchus historian deals with
the Theban stasiasmos—seen as the result of internal division among the citi-
zens, who are torn between Athens and Sparta—finds its roots in Thucydides’
particular view of Greek politics (ch. 8). Now, it is time to ask how far the
Oxyrhynchus historian’s moral judgements and his readiness to make moral
evaluations recall Thucydides’ use of terms referring to moral contexts and aim-
ing to clarify historical courses and developments.
The narrator of the ho is not a ‘moralist,’ in the sense that he does not employ
any persuasive rhetoric to explore ethics and to point ethical truths.4 Yet the
embedded praise-and-blame scheme resulting from the Oxyrhynchus histo-
rian’s understanding of war causation and peoples’ responsibilities to a certain
degree might also be a way to convey ethical insights and, possibly, advice for
the future. Being extraordinary concerned with clarity, and tending to impose
his own perspective and to correct views that appear contrary to his opin-
ion, the narrator turns to explanations which embed examples of reproachful
behaviour. So, it was Spartan harsh treatment of Greek cities and not the money
of the Persian King that caused the war; still, it was the competition for leader-
ship at Thebes and the renaissance of Athenian imperialistic aspirations that
started the war. Even though explanations, underlying and triggering causes
are closely interwoven with moral implications, and the grounds for this or that
course are to be found in the behaviour of people who are more or less com-
mended, the narrative seems to put much more emphasis on the explanatory
factor than on the inspirational.
To some extent morality acts in a similar way as it does in Thucydides, where
morality chiefly ‘explains’ things. Moral issues are interwoven with didacticism,
and with the need to provide the reader with ethic lessons and paradigms,5
especially when a debate on imperialism is at stake.6 Thucydides’ tendency to
generalise on human nature and men’s behaviour has been sometimes judged
as ‘moralising,’ but throughout the narrative ethical arguments seem rather
concerned with ‘morale’ than with ‘morals.’7
A distinction needs to be made between ethical judgements we find in
speeches (here we find most of them) and those which are in the narrator’s

4 On ‘moralism’ see Duff (1999): 66–71, Pelling (2011 a): 237–251.

5 Generalising comments are characteristic of Thucydides; they mostly fall into a number of
broad categories: statements about the nature of war, about the behaviour of states, about
the psychological basis of empire, and more specifically about political or ideological issues
concerning the Athenian empire. Cf. Meister (1955): 78ff., Hammond (1973): 49–59.
6 On moral claims made to justify Athenian rule see Pelling (2012 a): 306–310.
7 Rutherford (1994): 57.
‘moralism’ in historiography 201

own voice or implied by his narrative. The fact that most ethical judgements are
especially found in speeches shows that in the Histories there is more interest
in tracing the way that people think and speak than in presenting Thucydides’
own moral judgements (or at least presenting them explicitly). Perhaps the
most telling case is offered by the Mytilenaean debate, a meeting which took
place in Athens in order to reconsider a previous decision to put to death all
Mytilenaean males, after the city had revolted against the Athenians (3.37–48).
Cleon attacks his audience and the speakers who urge reconsideration of that
decision. Throughout his speech he refers to ethical reasons, and assimilates
the idea of dikaion to what is considered xympheron for Athens. Cleon certainly
thinks he can teach his audience a lesson on how to rule (3.40.6; 8):

6. Those who do harm to another without justification most often press

their attack all the way to his destruction, wary of the danger from an
enemy left standing: they know that the survivor of a gratuitous attack
is the more bitter for his experience than an opponent in open and
equal war. […] 8. Punish them as they deserve, and set a clear example
(παράδειγμα) to the rest of the allies that the penalty for revolt will be
death. When that is understood, you will be less distracted from the
enemy by the need to fight your own allies.8

Cleon alternates general statements on how the relation between rulers and
ruled works and precise instructions for avoiding disturbances in the future.
When an unexpected piece of good fortune comes strongly and suddenly,
it inclines cities to overstate their own condition; this is what happened to
Mytilene, and what might happen again to other allies if the Athenians do
not vote for an exemplary penalty against the rebels and their city (3.39.5–
6):

5. We should never have treated the Mytilenaeans with greater regard

than the others, and then we would not have seen this degree of pre-
sumption: it is general human nature to despise indulgence and respect
an unyielding stand. […] 6. Consider now the effect on our other allies.
If they see you applying the same sanctions to secessions forced by the
enemy and to deliberate revolts, do you not think that all will revolt on
the slightest pretext, when the reward for success is liberation and the
penalty for failure nothing very drastic?

8 Transl. by M. Hammond.
202 chapter 9

Also Diodotus, who supports the opposite view (moderation towards the
rebels) in comparison with Cleon’s proposal, still exploits the same rhetoric
about human nature, individual and collective mistakes, as well as the same
notion of practical advantage for Athens (ξυμφέρον, χρήσιμον, χρησίμως, 3.44.2–
4; 45–46). Diodotus is displaying to the audience what is the wise course
for the Athenians rather than the just one, which means again, as in Cleon’s
speech, being concerned with Athenian self-interest (περὶ τῆς ἡμετέρας εὐβου-
λίας, 3.44.1):

2. If a city does start a revolt and then recognises that there is no chance
of success, she can come to terms when she is still able to refund our
expenses and continue to pay tribute in future. But if we go the other
way, do you not think that all will make more thorough preparations than
they do at present? […] 4. So rather than judging the offenders by the
strict letter of the law, to our own detriment, we should seek to ensure
by moderation in our punishment that in time to come we still have the
financial resource of allied cities capable of their contribution.
thuc. 3.46.2; 4

Diodotus’ moral lesson looks more elaborate than that of Cleon, and in this
sense his didacticism comes up even more clearly. He appeals to poverty that
through necessity leads people to presumptuous pride and to the greed for hav-
ing more; hope, desire and fortune are additional ingredients, which determine
courses of actions that cannot be prevented at all, for there are no effective
deterrents against them (3.45). Paradoxically the only case in which Diodotus
turns to the theme of justice is indeed with reference to a false argument. If
the Athenians destroy the people of Mytilene, that is the democratic faction,
who had no share in the matter (this, in fact, is untrue, since the demos too
joined the revolt along with the oligarchs),9 they would first commit the injus-
tice (ἀδικήσετε) of killing their benefactors; and, since the Athenians treat guilty
and innocent in the same way, this would lead any future rebels elsewhere to
have on their side the democrats in their cities (3.47.3). Diodotus leaves open
another possibility too, that is, Athens’ alienation of the people of Mytilene
(καὶ εἰ ἠδίκησαν, 3.47.4); but he uses both the possibilities to the same aim, to
enforce the lesson that he is giving: ‘for the maintenance of our empire I con-
sider it much more expedient to tolerate injustice done to us than to justify, as
we could, the destruction of people we would do better to spare’ (3.47).

9 Connor (1984): 87–88.

‘moralism’ in historiography 203

Are, thus, ethical arguments, embedded in broader contexts, aimed to ex-

plain and give instructions? Yes, they are, at least to Thucydides’ internal audi-
ence. Thucydides’ speakers are using ethical language to offer practical teach-
ing on how to act; that is, ethical judgements convey advice for the future. In
Cleon’s case the ethical language is strong, and large part of his speech is based
on what he sees as expediency; in Diodotus’ case the ethical approach is less
strong than in Cleon’s, but it may be felt as potentially strong enough in his
audience’s mind. Besides, both Diodotus and Cleon rather than weighing peo-
ple’s wrongdoing or good behaviour seem mainly disputing for the prize for
being the best teacher of imperialism, one who gives insight especially on how
to preserve it. Cleon himself and later Diodotus too are embodying thus the sort
of practice that Cleon has just decried at 3.38, where he criticises the agonistic
rhetoric of a man who would speak in favour of the Mytilenaeans by resorting
to dubtful sophisms.
It is noteworthy that the Melians too use the same rhetoric as the Athenians
do, and intentionally and expressly resort to arguments connected with the
xympheron rather than to those pertaining to justice (ἀνάγκη γὰρ, ἐπειδὴ ὑμεῖς
οὕτω παρὰ τὸ δίκαιον τὸ ξυμφέρον λέγειν ὑπέθεσθε, 5.90), though the Melians’
arguments are not felt as the natural ones to make in such a predicament: the
Melians do so because the Athenians have insisted on it. In the course of the
dialogue the discussion focuses on the issue of how to preserve the Athenian
empire, whether through the acceptance of the allies’ neutrality and freedom
(the Melians’ view) or by denying it (the Athenians’ view):

Mel. Do you not think that our alternative offers you security? Since you
have diverted us from talk of justice (δικαίων λόγων) and want us to follow
your doctrine of expediency (ξυμφόρῳ), we must try again by another
route and state our own interest (χρήσιμον), which might convince you
if it happens to coincide with yours. At present there are several neutrals:
do you want to make enemies of them all?
thuc. 5.98

Both sides, thus, speak the same language of interest and advantage, and the
moral implications of the dialogue are tools of intellectual enlightenment
which convey also a sort of ‘moral’ lesson. The dialogue teaches that a weak
state should not trust in hope and fortune (101–103; compare this with Diodotus’
speech), or in allies’ loyalty (106). The Melians appeal to the Spartans’ own
interest (τῷ ξυμφέροντι αὐτῶν) in helping them: by abandoning Melos, her
colony, Sparta would appear faithless in the eyes of her allies (106). But, as the
Athenians make clear, moral claims such as justice and honour involve danger
204 chapter 9

(τὸ δὲ δίκαιον καὶ καλὸν μετὰ κινδύνου δρᾶσθαι), which the Spartans are generally
loath to face, while interest goes hand-in-hand with safety (τὸ ξυμφέρον μὲν μετ’
ἀσφαλείας εἶναι, 107). And in the following chapters up to the end of the dialogue
the Athenians point out to the Melians how Spartan self-interest works (109–
111).
How morally questionable this approach to history might have appeared to
the ancient reader, as it does to the modern one, is controversial,10 and raises a
further and important question: could Thucydides’ readers draw moral con-
clusions from the juxtaposition of Cleon’s and Diodotus’ conflicting advice,
or from the Athenians’ and Melians’ rhetoric? Has Thucydides’ Histories the
practical goal to instruct future leaders and generals on how to make right
moves, to say right things, and to avoid mistakes?11 As Hunter’s insightful anal-
ysis of Thucydides’ narrative shows, ‘there are two ways human beings can
learn. Either the paradeigma, the example of others, teaches them, or, if they
refuse to draw that lesson, they must learn the hard way. Then time and expe-
rience will be their teachers.’12 People can learn from history. And this is the
case, for example, when the Syracusans, while waiting for the arrival of the
Athenian expedition under Demosthenes and Eurymedon (413 bc), made inno-
vations in their fleet in the same way as the Corinthians did before engaging
their squadron at Naupactus (7.36.2 and 34).13 So within Thucydides’ narra-
tive people learn from examples/experiences. It may be true that also Thucy-
dides’ readers learned from the examples/experiences given in the Histories
and applied those lessons to real contexts which they happened to be in. A
reader experienced in military tactics may have assumed that the Syracusans
learned from the Corinthians and, at the same time, may have learned a bit
more in practical terms from that reading. A reader experienced in politics
may have found insightful (even though not just) the arguments displayed by
both Cleon and Diodotus. It is true that it might be hard for a reader of the
Mytilenean debate to draw practical conclusions on how to behave in similar
circumstances in the future; however, that may be due to the fact that Thucy-
dides himself, acknowledging that it is difficult, wanted to allow readers to
make up their own mind.

10 Cf. Pelling (2012 a): 306.

11 Cf. Rutherford (1994): 54. Of course, there are several other cases in which Thucydides
appeals to moral issues: the appalled nature of the narrator’s voice over Mycalessus at
7.29; the judgement on Nicias, where his motives at 7.48 may get less criticism than we
expect (esp. 7.86); Alcibiades’ moral excesses.
12 Hunter (1973): 80.
13 Hunter (1973): 85–94.
‘moralism’ in historiography 205

Let us turn now to a further case which shows clearly that moral elements
in Thucydidean narrative contribute to explain events. The stasis at Corcyra
is due to a political faction that was determined to draw Corcyra away from
the alliance with Athens towards alignment with Corinth; therefore this party
came into conflict with the Athenian supporters in Corcyra (3.70). This gives
way to the historian’s reflection on psychological and moral implications of
that event. The origin of the stasis is traced back to personal factors such as
people’s self-aggrandizement (pleonexia) and ambition (philotimia, 3.82.8). As
has often been observed, this analysis resembles Thucydides’ description of the
plague, which follows a similar narrative pattern.14 Nevertheless in the case
of the description of the pestilence more emphasis is put on the afflictions
produced by the disease than on the innate disposition of the Athenians.
The plague caused a series of bold actions within the city (ῥᾷον γὰρ ἐτόλμα
τις …) as well as the suspension of any human and divine conventions and
restraints (2.53.1–4). Of course, there is some innate disposition to react in
this way (2.47–48), but at least such an innate nature does not look to have a
distinctively Athenian tinge. In the case of Corcyra the innate character of the
Athenians is, instead, emphasised: the account tells in fact about human nature
displaying Thucydides’ tendency to generalise about it. Self-aggrandizement
and ambition come gradually up as manifestations of human disposition, as
they are ultimately not seen as passing moods, externally imposed by crises or
afflictions (3.84.2):15

With all life thrown into chaos at this time of crisis for the city, human
nature triumphed over law: it had always been inclined to criminal break-
ing of the laws, but now it revelled in showing itself the slave of passion,
a stronger force than justice, and the enemy of anything higher.

Just as in Thucydides, so also in the Oxyrhynchus historian morality chiefly

enhances our understanding. Moral examples may also teach, and they might
be meant by the historian as a means to deliver a legacy for future generations
of leaders and generals. Yet it seems that Thucydides’ narrative conveys ‘moral’
lessons in ways that clarify why things needed to develop in a particular way; we
find a kind of historical necessity absent in the ho. Of course we are not imply-
ing that everything is neatly predetermined in Thucydides’ view; for a degree
of probability, predictability, and even steerability of historical and political

14 Connor (1984): 99.

15 Connor (1984): 102.
206 chapter 9

processes may in fact clash with unforeseeable chance and unpredictable

human nature, which give life to a train of events that go beyond any orig-
inal planning.16 The Oxyrhynchus historian is interested in explaining why
things are as they are. There is no concern for that Thucydidean view tending
to generalise about human behaviour and psychology. The Oxyrhynchus his-
torian seems to elaborate an approach that, in reading the past, has its main
focus in matters of immediate contingency. So, for example, the Athenians’
activism (polypragmosyne), though it recalls closely Thucydides’ characterisa-
tion of that people (ch. 5), is not so much a matter of generalisation, nor does
it give room for a broader reflection on human nature: the Athenians are not
seen as a whole, or as acting always in that way; not all are well disposed or
prepared to adopt an aggressive policy, but only a few among them ([ο]ἱ δ’ [ἐ]ν
ταῖς Ἀθήναις, 7.2, ll. 43–44). If the Oxyrhynchus historian’s moral outlook may
have been aimed to give political advice or injunctions that should be put into
effect, it does not seem to convey any general ethical truth about human phu-
sis; morality is mainly an explanatory means by which the narrator clarifies and
expounds how and why certain historical courses took place in a specific way.

9.2 ‘Moralism,’ ‘Morality,’ and Moral Lessons

Any discussion of ‘morality’ in the ho inevitably invites us to turn to other

contemporary authors who are usually set in a particular intellectual context,
where a peculiar concern in instructing the reader in virtues and in giving
moral exempla is found. I refer to Xenophon (Hellenica), Theopompus, and
Ephorus. The modern category of ‘moralism,’ currently applied by Pownal to
some of fourth-century historians,17 might appear as an overstatement of this
peculiar historical trend—a matter of over-generalisation perhaps. Nonethe-
less, we can think of the brand ‘moralism’ as generically referring to a broad
range of individuals’ and peoples’ good and bad doings that are praised or
blamed. In this sense, then, authors such as Theopompus, Xenophon, and
Ephorus show a peculiar concern in instructing the reader in virtues and in giv-
ing moral exempla. The concept of ‘moralism’ is indeed interesting and helpful
to us, as it can provide a basis for a fuller understanding and definition of the
character of the ho, when this text is seen against the development of other
fourth-century historical works. Furhtermore, by showing the manifold mean-

16 Cf. Stahl (2003).

17 Pownall (2004). Cf. Marincola (2007): 171–179.
‘moralism’ in historiography 207

ings and nuances related to the notion of ‘moralism,’ especially throughout the
works of Theopompus and Ephorus, it will be possible to throw further light on
the authorship issue of the ho, since those historians are generally considered
as potential candidates for the authorship.
Moral consciousness, a certain awareness of what is good and bad in terms
of moral behaviour is given throughout Xenophon’s Hellenica either by the
narrator’s voice or by what people are supposed to say or think. Moral elements
in Xenophon show how people behave and how they should behave as well;
and this paves the way for finding throughout his narrative a twofold kind of
‘moralism,’ descriptive and prescriptive:18 the former shows when a certain
type of behaviour is just illustrated, while the latter gives implicit or explicit
protreptic indications on how someone should behave.
Even though Xenophon prefers to teach virtue by exempla, there are a few
cases in which the narrator comments explicitly upon what he judges as good
or bad behaviour. This is the case when the death of the Spartan Teleutias at
Olynthus, due to his rash decision to launch an attack against the Olynthi-
ans, leads the narrator to generalise upon human conduct. Disasters such as
this teach a lesson about anger: it is wrong to punish anyone, even a slave, in
anger; especially in dealing with enemies it is utterly and entirely wrong to act
under the influence of anger, that is, without deliberation (ὀργή ~ γνώμη, Hell.
5.3.7). There is also explicit praise in describing the conduct of good leaders
involved in military operations, such as Agesilaus (4.3.19), Iphicrates (6.2.32),19
Chabrias and Callistratus (39). Noble deeds performed by the Phliasians show-
ing their fidelity to Spartan cause deserve the narrator’s praise as well (7.2.2; 16;
7.3.1).
Several examples of descriptive moralism can be found in Xenophon’s narra-
tive. They teach that a morally good commander is also a successful one, while
a bad general deserves wholly his fate. Self-control and sense of duty or lack
of these are key aspects of Xenophon’s description of good or bad generals’
behaviour as well. The Spartan Diphridas, who succeeded Thibron in leading
the campaign against the satrap Struthas in Asia Minor (391 bc), was success-
ful. The reason for this seems to lie in the fact that, unlike Thibron, he fulfilled
his duties, was a more organised and enterprising commander, and, above all,
was not distracted by bodily pleasures (Hell. 4.8.22):

18 Pelling (2011 a): 239; cf. Duff (1999).

19 But see 6.5.51 where the narrator, who does not conceal to have praised Iphicrates, criti-
cises his action.
208 chapter 9

Diphridas had just as attractive a personality as Thibron, and as a general

he was both more efficient and more enterprising (μᾶλλόν τε συντεταγμέ-
νος καὶ ἐγχειρητικώτερος στρατηγός). He was not the slave of bodily pleas-
ure (οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐκράτουν αὐτοῦ αἱ τοῦ σώματος ἡδοναί) and he always stuck to
the job in hand.

On the contrary, Thibron was used to doing his raids against the enemy in a
disorderly and overconfident manner (ἀτάκτως καὶ καταφρονητικῶς), and was
unconcerned with the safety of the men under his command, neglecting his
duties and pursuing his own pleasures. It is not a coincidence that Thibron was
killed along with the flute player Thersander, with whom he was engaged in
throwing the discus (4.8.18–19): because of his delay in helping his forces he
met failure at the hands of Struthas.
Self-control and total devotion to one’s own duty seem to be the key qualities
that led Jason to fulfill his expansionist project in Thessaly, and to extend his
influence all over Greece (6.1.8–13; 6.4.19–32):

15. He will not think it right to rest until he has reached the point for which
he set out and done all that had to be done. And he has trained his men
to behave in the same way, although he also knows how to gratify the
feelings of his soldiers when they have won some success as the result
of extra hard work. So all who follow him have learned this too—that one
can have a good time also, if one works for it. 16. Then, too, he is more self-
controlled (ἐγκρατέστατος) than any man I know with regard to all bodily
pleasures (τὸ σῶμα ἡδονῶν). These never take up his time and prevent him
from doing what has to be done.
Hell. 6.1.15–16

Also the Spartan Dercylidas had fulfilled his duties in Asia better than his
predecessor Thibron had done: ‘and from the very beginning his conduct in
the command showed a marked contrast to that of Thibron. He led his army
through friendly country all the way to the Aeolis, in Pharnabazus’ territory,
and his troops did no harm to the allies on the march’ (3.1.10; cf. 3.2.1; 399bc).
Yet in 389bc, while operating in Aegean, he was replaced by Anaxibius not
through any fault of his own, but because Anaxibius had friends in high places
(4.8.32). Now the reader’s expectations are not disappointed by the outcome of
that new engagement: it was Anaxibius’ inability, and his disregard of omens
and gods that led the Spartans to an unsuccessful result (4.8.32–39). On the
contrary, Teleutias’ conduct shows that pity for gods and concern for one’s
soldiers are indeed proper to a good general and lead to positive outcomes
‘moralism’ in historiography 209

(5.1.14–24). Moreover, Alcibiades’ extravagance and neglect of duty (δι’ ἀμέ-

λειάν τε καὶ ἀκράτειαν) was judged by many at Athens to be the main cause
of the Athenian failure at Notion (1.5.16–17; 407 bc); and Mnasippus’ bad war-
fare management (6.2.16), along with the inability to restrain the excesses
of his soldiers, seems mostly responsible for his defeat at Corcyra (6.2.6–24,
373bc):

There were magnificent houses, too, which he [Mnasippus] destroyed,

and well-stocked wine-cellars on the country estates. The result was, so
it was said, that his soldiers got such a taste for luxurious living (εἰς
τοῦτο τρυφῆς ἐλθεῖν) that they would drink no wine unless it had a fine
bouquet.
Hell. 6.2.6

Sometimes Xenophon’s narrative looks to the Herodotean model, especially

when the theme of divine retribution for impious actions is at stake. In this
case the narrative shows a sharp uplifting intent (prescriptive moralism).20 The
warning signal lying behind the description of times of prosperity and indi-
cating that nemesis is soon to fall upon offenders forms a pattern that puts
Xenophon and Herodotus in close relation. The narrator’s evaluation of Spar-
tan success against Phlius and Olynthus of the 380s appears in Xenophon as
a warning that foreshadows Sparta’s later misfortune (παντάπασιν ἤδη καλῶς
καὶ ἀσφαλῶς ἡ ἀρχὴ ἐδόκει αὐτοῖς κατεσκευάσθαι / ‘Thus it appeared that now
at last Spartan supremacy had been well and truly established,’ 5.3.27): those
Spartan achievements only apparently are a means to corroborate Spartan
hegemony that by that time seemed fully and securely established. This recalls
Herodotus’ similar statement on Croesus’ military achievements that fore-
shadow his impending fate (κατεστραμμένων δὲ τούτων καὶ προσεπικτωμένου
Κροίσου Λυδοῖσι, ἀπικνέονται ἐς Σάρδις ἀκμαζούσας πλούτῳ ἄλλοι τε οἱ πάντες ἐκ τῆς
Ἑλλάδος σοφισταί, οἳ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον ἐτύγχανον ἐόντες, ὡς ἕκαστος αὐτῶν ἀπικνέ-
οιτο / ‘when these peoples had been subdued and while Croesus was increasing
the Lydian empire, Sardis was at the height of her prosperity and was visited
on occasion by every learned Greek who was alive at the time,’ 1.28.1–29.1).21
An even clearer case might be the way Herodotus leaves that topic at 1.34.1,
where it is said that a nemesis from Heaven is about to overtake Croesus. In the
chapter that follows Xenophon’s statement about Spartan momentary prosper-

20 For Herodotus’ influence on Xenophons’ Hellenica, see Gray (1989).

21 Transl. by R. Waterfield (slightly modified). Pownall (2004): 68.
210 chapter 9

ity (5.3.27) the narrator explicitly says that the Spartans wholly deserved their
fate, and namely a divine retribution for having seized the Cadmea, the fortress
of Thebes, breaking the King’s peace (Hell. 5.4.1):

Many examples could be given both from Greek and foreign history to
show that the gods are not indifferent to irreligion or to evil doing (ὡς
θεοὶ οὔτε τῶν ἀσεβούντων οὔτε τῶν ἀνόσια ποιούντων ἀμελοῦσι). Here I shall
mention only the case which occurs at this point in my narrative. The
Spartans had sworn to leave the cities independent, and then they had
seized the acropolis of Thebes. Now they were punished by the action
of these men, and these men alone, whom they had wronged (ὑπ’ αὐτῶν
μόνων τῶν ἀδικηθέντων ἐκολάσθησαν), although before that time they had
never been conquered by any nation on earth.22

Herodotus’ explanatory mode, embracing the notions of responsibility and

guilt of those who break a previous equilibrium and may touch off an act of
divine intervention which sets a new order, seems mirrored in Xenophon’s
treatment of people who are punished by gods for their wrongdoing. Supernat-
ural intervention in human life shows throughout the Hellenica a counteraction
that balances a previous disruptiveness. The Spartan seizure of the Cadmea,
so vigorously denounced by the narrator (5.4.1) is perhaps the peak of a series
of similar offences committed by the Spartans, for which the gods will punish
them at Leuctra about a decade later. After the peace talks of 371 bc preceding
that battle the Spartans did not heed the advice of their fellow citizen, Prothous,
to disband their army in Boeotia, as they had sworn to do in those talks (6.3.18–
19); instead, they began military operation against that territory. The narrator
underlines the soundness of Prothous’ proposal, showing that the deity was
leading Sparta on to destruction (Hell. 6.4.2–3):

2. By doing this, he said, it seemed to him that they would be most

likely to win the favour of the gods (τούς τε θεοὺς εὐμενεστάτους εἶναι)
and also provoke the least possible discontent from the cities. 3. How-
ever, when the Spartan assembly heard this from him they considered
that he was talking utter nonsense. It looks as though they were already
being impelled by some divine power (ἤδη γάρ, ὡς ἔοικε, τὸ δαιμόνιον
ἦγεν).

22 Transl. by R. Warner.
‘moralism’ in historiography 211

This is not in itself an act of divine punishment, rather of divine leading on

into crime that will lead to punishment.23 However, it may be that the gods only
intervene in this way because of previous human transgressions, even though
that is left implicit.
Moreover, the death of Lycomedes, the leader of the Arcadian confederacy,
is also due to divine intervention in human affairs. He is a victim of chance.
The narrator comments that Lycomedes perished at the hand of the deity
(δαιμονιώτατα ἀποθνῄσκει). After negotiating an alliance with the Athenians, he
left Athens, embarked on a ship, and agreed with the sailors that they should
put him ashore at the point that he would choose himself (Hell. 7.4.3; 362bc).
Then he chose to land at the spot where some Arcadian exiles happened to be.
All this seems a pointer to the reader, who certainly recalls that Lycomedes’
ambition had been responsible for the excessive arrogance and the downfall
of his fellow Arcadians at the hands of the Spartans some years before, in
368bc (ἄλλως φιλότιμος, οὗτος ἐνέπλησε φρονήματος τοὺς Ἀρκάδας, 7.1.23–32).
The mention of the Arcadian exiles at the conclusion of Lycomedes’ story is
not without significance. In the same way as he had led the Arcadians to their
downfall he is now led by them to ruin. Without any doubt the cultured reader
recognises Lycomedes’ hybris as the main reason for his later punishment.
In the course of the Corinthian war the Corinthians who had taken the
money from the King and were the most responsible for that war made plans
for a massacre of fellow citizens, realising that unless the peace party of Corinth
were suppressed there was a strong likelihood that Corinth would revert to her
previous alliance with Sparta (4.4.2–3; 393bc). This action is followed by divine
vengeance upon the guilty, who are characterised by the narrator as utterly
sacrilegious (ἀνοσιώτατοι) for their impious action (ἀσέβεια). Moreover, later
the Corinthian exiles asked the Spartans for help against their fellow citizens,
and for the Spartans this was an extraordinary opportunity given to them by
the god beyond any expectations (ἔδωκε γὰρ τότε γε ὁ θεὸς αὐτοῖς ἔργον οἷον οὐδ’
ηὔξαντό ποτ’ ἄν, 4.4.12).
All these examples give moral teaching, as to say, ‘in negative’ form: they
clarify what must not be done, in order to prevent such or similar outcomes.
Further cases of protreptic moralism through negative exempla show what
would happen to anyone when he behaves in the same way as some people
do. So everyone would learn from the story of Meidias’ usurpation of Mania’s
satrapy that the person who acts in that way incurs the reversal of his fortune,

23 There are Homeric precedents, especially the story of Athena who inspires Pandarus to
break the truce in Hom. Il. 4.
212 chapter 9

losing what he had illicitly appropriated (3.1.20–28). Moral teaching also comes
from the dialogue between Agesilaus and Lysander; the former, belittled by the
personal ambition of Lysander, who has exerted power over his own followers
in Asia, deposes him on that charge (3.4.7–10). Lysander and with him the
reader are taught the lesson that friends (people of the same political group)
are meant to increase each other’s power, not to diminish it.
Prescriptive moralism in Xenophon can also be expressed in a ‘positive’
way, when it gives explicit indications for actions to be taken for the future.
Callistratus’ words at the peace talks of 371 bc, aiming to persuade Spartans
and Athenians to share their hegemony, are clearly using a moralising paradigm
that comes from people’s common experience (Hell. 6.3.16–17):

16. Personally, I do not admire the athlete who after constantly winning
in the games and after having won a great reputation is so fond of com-
petition that he never stops until all his training ends in defeat. Nor do
I admire the gambler who doubles his stakes after one lucky throw. 17.
I observe that most people of that sort end up by having nothing at all.
Should not we also recognise this fact, and never become involved in a
fight where one either wins or loses all? Should we not rather become
friends while we are still strong and still successful?

Good teaching and bad teaching may also be juxtaposed, so as to explain and
clarify the particular course of an event. Procles’ speech, delivered after the
battle of Leuctra,24 urges the Athenians to accept the proposal to divide the
responsibilities for leadership in the newly-formed alliance between Athens
and Sparta (Hell. 7.1.2–11). The ideas that Procles expresses appear as morally
superior to the self-interest espoused later by Cephisodotus’ speech, and Pro-
cles’ reference to the gods puts him on a higher moral level (ἐμοὶ δὲ καὶ αὐτῷ
δοκεῖ ταῦτα οὐκ ἀνθρωπίνῃ μᾶλλον ἢ θείᾳ φύσει τε καὶ τύχῃ διωρίσθαι / ‘in my opin-
ion this division of responsibility seems to be not merely a human expedient
but something ordained by providence and by the way things are,’ 7.1.2; ἔτι δὲ καὶ
ἀπὸ τῶν θεῶν δέδοται ὑμῖν [Athenians] εὐτυχεῖν ἐν τούτῳ / ‘and from heaven, too,
you have been granted success in this,’ 7.1.5; ἐπεὶ δ’ ὁ θεὸς ἔδωκέ ποτε αὐτοῖς [the
Spartans] κατὰ θάλατταν ἐπικρατῆσαι … / ‘when in the end heaven gave them
the control of the sea …,’ 7.1.6). The contrastive reading of the two speeches
uncovers the fecklessness and incompetence of the Athenian demos (μετεπεί-
σθησαν): the people will be led by demagogues like Cephisodotus into deciding

24 See above, ch. 7.1.

‘moralism’ in historiography 213

for the wrong course, voting that each part should hold the supreme command
in turn for periods of five days at a time (7.1.12–14).
In some cases moral judgements put emphasis on the explanatory factor
rather than on that descriptive or inspirational, and in so doing Xenophon
seems to share the Oxyrhynchus historian’s way of dealing with ‘morality’
that—as we have shown—has a precedent in Thucydides’ narrative. There are
in fact cases in which blame and moral arguments appear to explain particular
historical courses. Perhaps the most telling case is given by the section on the
outbreak of the Corinthian war; here an embedded focalisation shows that
the Spartans were very happy to start a war against the Thebans, as they had
suffered several offences at the hands of the Thebans (Hell. 3.5.5):

The Spartans were glad enough to have a pretext (ἄσμενοι ἔλαβον πρό-
φασιν) for a campaign against the Thebans, since they had been angry
with them for some time. First, the Thebans had claimed the tithe due to
Apollo at Decelea; they had refused to follow the Spartans against Piraeus
and were accused of having persuaded the Corinthians also to refuse.
The Spartans also remembered (ἀνεμιμνῄσκοντο) that the Thebans had
not allowed Agesilaus to sacrifice at Aulis and had thrown down from the
altar the victims that had been sacrificed already; and they had failed to
join Agesilaus on his campaign in Asia. The Spartans calculated (ἐλογί-
ζοντο), too, that this was just the right moment for leading an army against
Thebes and putting an end to Theban insolence (παῦσαι τῆς εἰς αὐτοὺς
ὕβρεως).

Blame is here a tool that explains why that war started, according to the Spartan
perspective. Similarly, moral reasons too are put in the mouth of the Theban
ambassadors who went to Athens on the eve of that war. Moral factors come
into question to emphasise the reasons of the other side, the anti-Spartan
coalition: according to the Thebans the main reason why the Athenians should
join the war was to get back their empire by going to the help of all the victims
of Spartan injustice (τοῖς ὑπ’ ἐκείνων ἀδικουμένοις βοηθοῖτε, 3.5.10), given that
Spartan dominion was greedy and arrogant (ἡ Λακεδαιμονίων πλεονεξία πολὺ
εὐκαταλυτωτέρα ἐστὶ τῆς ὑμετέρας γενομένης ἀρχῆς, 3.5.15). Sparta was hated by
most of her subjects either in the Greek mainland or in Asia Minor (καὶ νῦν γε, ἂν
φανεροὶ γενώμεθα ἡμεῖς τε καὶ ὑμεῖς συνασπιδοῦντες ἐναντία τοῖς Λακεδαιμονίοις, εὖ
ἴστε, ἀναφανήσονται πολλοὶ οἱ μισοῦντες αὐτούς / ‘so now if people see Thebes and
Athens falling into line together against Sparta, you can be quite sure that those
who hate Sparta will soon show themselves in full numbers,’ 3.5.11). Argives,
Corinthians, Arcadians, and Achaeans were unhappy, as they did not get any
214 chapter 9

share of power, glory and money in return for their military service provided
to Sparta; as for the islanders, ex-allies of Athens, they had received a double
measure of servitude, that is, governors as well as decarchies (12–13). Moral
considerations provided by both sides form a sort of narrative premise that
gives reason for the involvement of each of them in that war.
Moral grounds also explain the reason why a group of Athenian and Theban
conspirators cooperated in liberating the Cadmea from Spartan control: the
bad doings of the polemarch Archias, the tyrannical rule of Philippus (τὰ περὶ
Ἀρχίαν τε τὸν πολεμαρχοῦντα καὶ τὴν περὶ Φίλιππον τυραννίδα) and the hate felt
by Archias’ secretary, Phillidas, for the state of affairs in Thebes (μισοῦντα αὐτὸν
ἔτι μᾶλλον αὑτοῦ τὰ οἴκοι, 5.4.2).
Xenophon represents moral charges made by peoples as closely connected
with the true motivations which caused specific historical developments; in so
doing he shares with the Oxyrhynchus historian Thucydides’ general approach
to moral issues. Furthermore, Xenophon’s narrative seems to recall the ap-
proach to politics held by two Thucydidean leaders, Cleon and Diodotus. These,
debating justice, focused on what appeared to them as advantageous to their
city, or rather, to their own party.25 Similarly, Sphodrias’ acquittal was due
to Archidamus’ love for Cleonymous, Sphodrias’ son, but the absence of his
guilt was not proved (consider Archidamus’ words to Agesilaus: εἰ μηδὲν ἠδίκει
Σφοδρίας, ἀπέλυσας ἂν αὐτὸν οἶδα: νῦν δέ, εἰ ἠδίκηκέ τι, ἡμῶν ἕνεκεν συγγνώμης
ὑπὸ σοῦ τυχέτω, 5.4.31; and public opinion about Sphodrias’ guilt: μὴ ἀδικεῖν μὲν
Σφοδρίαν ἀδύνατον εἶναι, 32). According to a shared opinion among the Spartans
the matter should be evaluated on the ground whether or not it produced
good results for Sparta, that is, something honourable and advantageous for
the state (Agesilaus’ reply to Archidamus: οὐκοῦν ἂν μέλλῃ καλὰ ταῦθ’ ἡμῖν εἶναι,
οὕτως ἔσται, 31). The rightness of the decision to acquit Sphodrias, according to
the narrator, will be proved later by his honourable downfall at Leuctra while
fighting for his city (Hell. 5.4.33):

While he lived, all his actions were those of a good and noble Spartan (ὅσα
καλὰ ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ), and at Leuctra, after falling three times, he died first of
his citizens and deep in the enemy ranks fighting for his king with Dinon
the polemarch.

To some extent the notion of justice, just or good behaviour, implies a certain
degree of ambiguity. So we see the paradox of the restored Phliasian exiles who

25 See above, ch. 9.1.

‘moralism’ in historiography 215

are damaged by those who should give them justice (τίς αὕτη δίκη εἴη ὅπου
αὐτοὶ οἱ ἀδικοῦντες δικάζοιεν, Hell. 5.3.10; 381bc); or, again, we find betrayers who
deny the charge of betrayal on moral grounds, and are acquitted for not having
betrayed their countrymen (Hell. 1.3.18–19). As for the latter, some Byzantines
were persuaded by the Athenians to leave their alliance with Sparta and to give
their city to Athens (1.3.16, 408 bc). One of the Byzantine betrayers, Anaxilaus,
was put on trial at Sparta but was later acquitted (ἐπαγόμενος θανάτου ὕστερον ἐν
Λακεδαίμονι διὰ τὴν προδοσίαν ἀπέφυγεν, 18–19). He denied the charge of betrayal
on the ground that he was not a Spartan (Βυζάντιος ὢν καὶ οὐ Λακεδαιμόνιος,
19); it was because he saw women and children dying of hunger that he had
admitted the enemy into the city, and not because he had been bribed or
because of his hatred for the Spartans (οὐκ ἀργυρίου ἕνεκα οὐδὲ διὰ τὸ μισεῖν
Λακεδαιμονίους, 19).
Similarly, the appeal to the notion of justice shows something insincere in
reference to the incident preceding the Corinthian war, as reported by the ho.
An indirect speech delivered by the Spartans shows them aware of Theban
responsibility in orchestrating the Phocians’ assault against the Locrian terri-
tory; nevertheless, they told the Boeotians to obtain justice from the Phocians,
if they found the Phocians responsible and guilty as charged (18.4):

The Spartans, though they thought (νομίσαντες) the story was unworthy
of belief, sent envoys and told the Boeotians not to make war on the
Phocians, but if they thought that they were wronged in any way (εἴ τι ἀδι-
κεῖσθαι νομίζουσ[ι), they ordered them to obtain justice (δίκην λαμ|[βάνειν)
from them in a meeting of their allies.

Further cases of ‘ambiguous justice’ are offered by Xenophon’s narrative. ‘Jus-

tice’ may refer to what is seen by the one side as a just action or conduct; it
leaves some room, however, for discussions that are made on the same action
by the other side. So Alcibiades may be either guilty or innocent, depending on
how people judge his conduct. When Alcibiades went to Athens from the exile
(407bc) dense crowds of people gathered to see the ‘great Alcibiades’ (Hell.
1.4.13):

He, it was said, was the best citizen they had got and alone had been
banished not because he deserved it (οὐ δικαίως φύγοι) but because of
the intrigues of people who were inferior to him in power, who lacked his
abilities to speak and whose only political principle was their own self-
interest.
216 chapter 9

The following part of this passage (omitted here) shows that Alcibiades was
a victim of injustice because of his political enemies; it justifies his conduct of
the years of his exile as well as the favours accorded to Spartans and Persians.
Yet, continues the narrator, this was only one view, since there were others in
Athens who maintained that he alone was responsible for all their past troubles
(αἴτιος εἴη) and that presumably he would also be the chief cause of further
perils in the future (17). Similarly, a series of charges and self-defences are
offered by the two sides of the debate on the conduct of the Athenian generals
at Arginusae; and it is left unclear who started that chain of mutual accusations
(1.7.4–8; 2.3.35). Theramenes may be either προδότης of his city or εὐμενὴς
δικαίως, depending on the perspective of who judges the event, the accuser
or the (self)defender (2.3.29; 43). Even killing someone may be a matter of
δίκαιον ποιεῖν, if the victim is manifestly unrighteous, or evidently a traitor, or is
attempting to become a tyrant and enslaving and banishing people absolutely
innocent of any wrongdoing (7.3.7–8). Euphron of Sycion, for instance, was and
did all that (ἔνοχος ἦν, 8):

9. Now suppose he had come out openly against you [the Theban officials]
with an army, you would actually have been grateful to me for killing
him. As it is, he came with money instead to be used for bribing you and
persuading you to put him back again in power in our city; then how can
it be right for me to be put to death for giving him the punishment due
to him? (τούτῳ ἐγὼ τὴν δίκην ἐπιθεὶς πῶς ἂν δικαίως ὑφ’ ὑμῶν ἀποθάνοιμι;)
And when one is made to do something by force of arms, one is injured
certainly, but at any rate not shown up to be bad (οὐ μέντοι ἄδικοι); but
when one is bribed to act against the right, one is not only injured but also
disgraced. 10. Certainly, if he had been an enemy of mine, but a friend of
yours (ὑμῖν δὲ φίλος), I should be the first to admit that it would have been
wrong of me to kill him in your city.
Hell. 7.3.9–10

The speech delivered by Euphron’s murderer, appealing to the principle that

death is the just punishment for crimes, hints at that popular view of dikaiosune
which consisted in rendering good to one’s friends (philoi) and ill to one’s
enemies (echthroi). Dikaiosune is, here, related to the idea that friendship
means doing something that a person likes, while doing something that he/she
does not like may mean to become his/her enemy.26 Furthermore, retaliation

26 Cf. Xen. An. 7.7.46; Plat. Resp. 331 e–332 a. Cf. Dover (1974): 180–187.
‘moralism’ in historiography 217

for being wronged or in defence of anyone wronged is a matter of justice as

well. That is, there are circumstances in which justice might also bring harm.
This has already been shown by Diodotus’ speech, where the speaker argues
that it is not in the interest of the assembly to be ‘strict judges,’ since it can be
more advantageous to accept injury than, with just reason, to punish and harm
those who did wrong (ὥστε οὐ δικαστὰς ὄντας δεῖ ἡμᾶς μᾶλλον τῶν ἐξαμαρτανόντων
ἀκριβεῖς βλάπτεσθαι, Thuc. 3.46.4).27

9.3 Theopompus: ‘Moralism’ versus ‘Morality’?

We should now ask whether or not examples of ‘blame’ in Theopompus’ nar-

rative show similarities with the ho. According to the Oxyrhynchus historian,
blame is part of a view of ‘morality’ that we have called ‘explanatory;’ this sub-
category of moralism, found also in Thucydides’ as well as in Xenophon’s his-
toriography, uses moral/immoral examples and behaviour as tools that explain
why certain outcomes were as they were. Even so in the ho (as well as in Thu-
cydides and in Xenophon) ‘blame’ and moral reproaches do not seem to be part
of a broader ‘moral’ texturing of the work as they are supposed to be in that of
Theopompus.
Needless to say, in consideration of the state of the evidence, any attempt
to give general statements on ‘fragmentary’ historians like Theopompus may
appear hazardous, or misleading, or at least far from satisfactory. In fact later
traditions have re-created and ‘constructed’ Theopompus and not merely
quoted him, in the sense that they have given a literary patina to what they
thought of him and his relative works. Yet it is hard not to be tempted to catch
the character and flavour of Theopompus’ historiography through Dionysius of
Halicarnassus’ statements on his style and work (t 2028 = ad Pomp. 6).
According to Dionysius, Theopompus knew the habits and the ways of the
‘characters’ of his history; he liked to tell how they spent their lives, and how
they organised their time (6.4–5). And this implies that they were unques-
tionably relevant to the narration of historical events. If we base ourselves on
Dionysius’ reflections, what a historian such as Theopompus does is not to con-
sider only external events, as most did, but to bring out the inner psychology
of the people: by investigating feelings in their hearts and apparent virtues and

27 Cf. also Thuc. 2.30, where there is a case in which an arbitrator suggests that a solution
which is ‘advantageous to both parties’ is to be preferred to a strictly just solution that
might create lasting ill-feeling.
28 All quotations of the fragments in this chapter are from Jacoby’s edition.
218 chapter 9

undetected vices, he reveals their human nature; digging beyond events and
actions, he lays bare the character of people about whom he speaks (6.7). This,
to some extent, is close to the similar view made by Plutarch near the start of
the Life of Nicias.29 Plutarch claims that he will not treat the matter in the same
way as historians did in the past (Thucydides and Philistus), but he will resort
to material which ‘escapes the notice of the majority’ to understand ‘character
and manners’ (ἀλλὰ τὴν πρὸς κατανόησιν ἤθους καὶ τρόπου παραδιδούς, 1.5).
For Dionysius Theopompus would be like a doctor who treats only the
diseased parts of the body, leaving the healthy parts untouched; his search-
ing investigation might be compared to the examination of souls who go to
Hades (6.8). Moreover, from the assumed relation between Theopompus’ and
Isocrates’ works one should infer that Theopompus indeed considered histori-
cal matters as tools of moral edification: ‘It [Th.’s style] differs from the style of
Isocrates for its bitterness and tension on some subjects whenever he discusses
feelings and especially when he denounces cities or generals for bad plans and
wicked practices—he is heavy on those subjects’30 (6.9).
In consideration of Dionysius’ evidence is it fair to define Theopompus as a
‘moralistic’ historian? The question cannot have univocal answers, especially
in consideration of the fact that most of Theopompus’ fragments come from
Athenaeus,31 and, consequently, what we have of the historian is chiefly what
has been filtered by Athenaeus himself because of his erudite and literary
interests. Eventually it is possible to catch and explain the kind and extent of
moralism that may have characterised the texture of the Philippica.
Reading Theopompus’ fragments we get the impression that the historian
never says ‘act like this,’ nor ‘avoid that.’ He sketches characters without any
explicit exhortation to act differently, or any imperatives enjoining good be-
haviour. As in Xenophon’s Hellenica, so also here prescriptions come to the
reader indirectly and mostly from the negative paradigms that are offered
by the narrative itself. Plutarch warns his readers that since Theopompus
prefers to criticise than to praise (ψέγει γὰρ ἥδιον ἢ ἐπαινεῖ) his complimentary
words should be taken particularly seriously.32 We can thus expect that in
Theopompus’ works instances of moral praise were less fully represented than
those of blame; that is, possibly lessons of what we would call ‘protreptic’

29 Cf. Duff (1999): 22–30.

30 Trad. Shrimpton.
31 The largest number of citations of Theopompus’ works comes from Stephanus of Byzan-
tium, followed by Athenaeus.
32 Lys. 30.2.
‘moralism’ in historiography 219

moralism33 were given through negative exempla. From the results of wrong
actions, or better, those characterised as such by the narrator, the reader would
learn that, for example, those who live in luxury may die of violent death (f 114),
or the man who betrays his own country may end like Cillicon who was maimed
in one hand (f 111), or those who live in democracy (δημοκρατεῖσθαι) behave in
dissolute ways through the inflow of wealth (f 62, 99, 121);34 that those who
usually indulge in excessive drinking, like the Sicilian tyrants, will be slain by
lasting drunkenness, or will fall ill, like Dionysius the younger who went blind
(cf. f 186; 283).35
Dionysius’ statements on the character of Theopompus’ historiography
show that the greatest accomplishment in his historical writing would be the
ability not only to see what is obvious to most (τὰ φανερὰ τοῖς πολλοῖς) but also
to examine even the hidden causes of actions (τὰς ἀφανεῖς αἰτίας) and those
who are performing them as well as the feelings of their souls (ad Pomp. 6.7–8
= t 20). Dionysius’ mention of aphaneis aitiai sounds like an echo of Thucydides
1.23.6, though this is not necessarily a direct one: Theopompus himself might,
for instance, have echoed Thucydides at some point. However, aside from pre-
sumable literary echoes, Dionysius’ reference to aphaneis aitiai suggests a view
of historical causation which is pretty different from that of Thucydides and
the Oxyrhynchus historian. In fact, innate or deliberate human dispositions are
to be included in the field of hidden causes of action. It does seem that self-
ish and/or base desires, such as moral incontinence (akrasia), greed, and per-
sonal ambition (philotimia) are hidden motives that Theopompus frequently
ascribes to individuals. It is not merely the fact that people enjoy pleasures
that Theopompus is objecting to, since he is not averse to pleasures, rather he
reproaches men’s incontinence. So Pisistratus, whose munificence according
to the historian will later be imitated by Cimon (cf. f 89), is appreciated for his
moderation (μετρίως ἐχρῆτο ταῖς ἡδοναῖς, f 135 = Athen. 12 pp. 532 f–533 a). The
view appears similar to that which Plutarch expresses in relation to Lysander
(2.1):

33 Pelling (2011 a): 237–251.

34 In Theopompus there is a sort of correlation between forms of government and standards
of morality, and democracies and tyrannies are seen as the most pernicious political sys-
tems. Cf. Flower (1994): 78–83. Shrimpton suggests that Theopompus was influenced by
Plato’s thought, and gave therefore a view according to which the nature and type of indi-
viduals and developments were paralleled by their constitutions; that is, for Theopompus
there is analogy between people and their respective societies. Shrimpton (1977): 138–144.
35 Some stories may have had an anecdotic flavour already at the time of the historian, or
a bit later; for instance, the expression μὴ σύ γε Θειογένης κόψῃς χέρα Κιλλικόωντος will
become proverbial (Theop. FGrHist 115, F 111 = Callim. fr. 227 Schn.).
220 chapter 9

But Lysander was reared in poverty, and showed himself as much as

any man conformable to the customs of his people; of a manly sprit,
too, and superior to every pleasure (κρείττονα πάσης ἡδονῆς), excepting
only that which their good deeds bring to those who are successful and
honoured.36

This similarity between the two leaders seems, moreover, confirmed by Theo-
pompus’ own words about Lysander, as related by Athenaeus (f 20 = Athen.37
12 p. 543 b–c):

Almost all authorities report that Pausanias and Lysander were notorious
for their addiction to luxury. This is why Agis said about Lysander, ‘Here is
a second Pausanias that Sparta is producing.’ But Theopompus in book x
of his History of Greece says the opposite about Lysander, claiming that
‘he liked hard work (φιλόπονος) and was able to serve both private citizens
and kings, since he could control himself and was not a hedonist of any
sort (τῶν ἡδονῶν ἁπασῶν κρείττων). Though he obtained power over almost
all of Greece, at any rate, it is impossible to point to a single city where
he became involved in sexual escapades or got drunk or attended parties
when he should not have (οὔτε πρὸς τὰς ἀφροδισίους ἡδονὰς ὁρμήσας οὔτε
μέθαις καὶ πότοις ἀκαίροις χρησάμενος).’

People are criticised by Theopompus for their incontinence and wantonness,

and for the extent of their excesses (think of Illyrians, Etruscans, Thessalians,
etc.). Incontinence may be of different sorts and involve either individuals or a
collectivity. It may concern either the private or the public sphere. Many people
gave public banquets, but the difference between Cimon’s munificence and
that of Eubulus or of the demos of Taras, for example, is one of manner and
of degree (f 100 = Athen. 4 p. 166 d–e):

Theopompus in the tenth book of the Philippica, from which some people
separated the last part where there is a discussion on the Athenian dem-
agogues, says that Eubulus the demagogue was a profligate; he used this
phrasing: ‘he [Eubulus] has outdone the people of Tarentum in profligacy
and greed to such an extent that, whereas the only matter in which they
failed to exercise self-control was feasts, the Athenians have spent their
revenues on mercenaries.’

36 Transl. B. Perrin.
37 Greek text G. Kaibel. Transl. S.D. Olson (revised).
‘moralism’ in historiography 221

The euergetism of Cimon (ἔπειτα τὴν οἰκίαν παρεῖχε κοινὴν ἅπασι· καὶ δεῖπνον
αἰεὶ εὐτελὲς παρασκευάζεσθαι πολλοῖς ἀνθρώποις […] f 89), who offered free ban-
quets to everyone who wanted as well as all products of his lands, is presented
as a sample of moderation in political behaviour, while other forms of dona-
tion (especially of money) made by democratic politicians (i.e. Eubulus) are
censured as tools of moral degeneration (f 99).
Now not only do many extant fragments develop the theme of individual
and collective lack of self-control (akrasia/akolasia), but they also give the
impression that Theopompus’ reading of historical causation is closely related
to that theme: that is, some fragments suggest a direct connection between
peoples’ lack of self-control with consequent wrongdoings and negative out-
comes. Underlying and triggering causes of events cannot therefore be clearly
distinguished, as they are embedded together within this relation. Moreover,
peoples who are guilty of excesses, to some extent, are shown to deserve their
fate. So the Celts, aware of the Ardiaeans’ lack of self-restraint, and making war
against them, took advantage of that weakness. They prepared a sumptuous
meal for them putting into the food an herb that had the effect of purging the
bowels. As a result some of the Ardiaeans were killed, others threw themselves
into a river (f 40 = Athen. 10 p. 443 b–c):

‘The inhabitants of Ardia,’ he claims, ‘own 300,000 prospelatai, who resem-

ble helots. They get drunk and have parties every day, and are completely
undisciplined when it comes to food and drink (πρὸς ἐδωνὴν καὶ πόσιν
ἀκρατέστερον). When the Celts, who were aware of the Ardians’ lack of
self-discipline (ἀκρασίαν), were at war with them, therefore, they sent
around orders to all their soldiers to prepare the most fantastic dinner
possible in their tents, but to add to the food an herb with a medicinal
quality that caused it to disturb the intestines and empty them out. After
this happened, some of the Ardians were captured by the Celts and exe-
cuted, while others lost control of their bowels and threw themselves into
the rivers.’

Similarly Philip (f 162)—and possibly the Syracusan Dionysius the elder as well
(f 134)—encouraged the laxity and moral weakness of their enemies to prevail
over them38 (f 162 = Athen. 6 p. 260 b–c):

38 The distinction between those who maintain power by corrupting others and those who
are defeated because of their own indulgence is a key motive traceable throughout the
Philippica. Pownall (2004): 166; see also Connor (1967): 143–146.
222 chapter 9

Theopompus in the twentieth sixth book of the Histories: ‘Philip knew

that the Thessalians were undisciplined (ἀκολάστους) and lived disso-
lutely, he used to throw parties for them (ἀσελγεῖς συνουσίας), and did
his best to entertain them any way he could by dancing, celebrating, and
putting up with all kinds of bad behaviour (πᾶσαν ἀκολασίαν). (He was a
natural buffoon, who got drunk every day and took pleasure in habits that
tended in that direction and in the so-called ‘jolly’ people who tell jokes
and act amusing.) He won over more of the Thessalians who spent time
with him by holding these parties than by giving them presents.’

The lack of self-control may thus undermine political life; this is moreover,
shown by Charidemus’ example (f 143 = Athen. 10 p. 436 b–c):

In his description of Charidemus of Oreus, whom the Athenians made a

citizen, he says: ‘because he openly led a depraved existence, to the extent
that he was constantly drinking and in a stupor, and he went so far as to
seduce free women. He became so reckless that he attempted to ask the
Olynthian city council for a boy who was good-looking and graceful […].’

The climax shows a progression from private incontinence (drinking) to mis-

chief with negative social implications (debauching respectable women), to
the ultimate degradation: taking one’s depravity into the world of politics.
To some extent Theopompus’ moralising view may be exploiting a pre-
existing pattern, already found in Xenophon: self-control = positive outcome
~ lack of self-control = negative outcome.39 However, Theopompus’ historio-
graphical practice shows inconsistencies which have attracted the attention of
both ancient and modern scholars. Polybius found a clamorous inconsistency
between Theopompus’ preface to the Philippica, where the historian states that
Philip’s excellence induced him to undertake that work, and the rest of the nar-
rative, where he reproaches Philip for his incontinence towards pleasures and
for corrupting peoples (f 225 a = Poly.40 8.9.2–13):

2. He shows him [Philip] to have been first so incontinent (ἀκρατέστα-

τον) about women, that as far as in him lay he ruined his own home by
his passionate and ostentatious addiction to this kind of things; 3. next
a most wicked and mischievous man in his schemes for forming friend-

39 Above, ch. 9.2.

40 Transl. W.R. Paton.
‘moralism’ in historiography 223

ships and alliances; thirdly, one who had enslaved and betrayed a large
number of cities by force or fraud; 4. and lastly, one so addicted to strong
drink (ἀκρατοποσίας) that he was frequently seen by his friends manifestly
drunk in broad day-light. 5. Anyone who chooses to read the beginning
of his forty-ninth book will be amazed at the extravagance (ἀτοπίαν) of
this writer. Apart from other things, he ventured to write as follows. I set
down the passage in his own words: 6. ‘Philip’s court in Macedonia was
the gathering place of all the most debauched and brazen-faced charac-
ters in Greece or abroad, who were there styled the king’s companions.
7. For Philip in general showed no favour to men of good repute who
were carefully of their property, but those he honoured and promoted
were spendthrifts who passed their time drinking and gambling. 8. In con-
sequence he not only encouraged them in their vices, but made them
past masters in every kind of wickedness and lewdness. 9. Was there any-
thing indeed disgraceful and shocking that they did not practise, and was
there anything good and creditable that they did leave undone? Some of
them used to shave their bodies and make them smooth although they
were men, and others actually practiced lewdness with each other though
bearded. 10. While carrying about two or three minions with them they
served others in the same capacity, 11. so that we would be justified in
calling them not courtiers but courtesans and not soldiers but strumpets.
12. For being by nature manslayers they became by their practices man-
whores.’ 13. In a word he continues ‘not to be prolix, and especially as I
am beset by such a deluge of other matters my opinion is that those who
were called Philip’s friends and companions were worse brutes and of a
more beastly disposition than the Centaurs who established themselves
on Pelion, or those Laestrygones who dwelt in the plain of Leontini, or
any other monsters.’

According to Polybius, Theopompus states in his preface that he undertook

to write the Philippica because Europe had never before brought forth such a
man as Philip (διὰ τὸ μηδέποτε τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐνηνοχέναι τοιοῦτον ἄνδρα παράπαν
οἷον τὸν Ἀμύντου Φίλιππον, 8.9.1); but despite this claim the historian goes on
and censures Philip openly. The usual translation or meaning of τοιοῦτον ἄνδρα
is something like ‘so great man’ or ‘such a great man,’ but, as Connor has
persuasively demonstrated, the phrase is deliberatively ambiguous. The use
of τοιοῦτος as a qualifying adjective denotes quality, but that quality can be
either positive or negative, depending on the context;41 moreover, if we look

41 Flower (1994): 99–100 gives the example of Herodotus’ description of Cypselus, where the
224 chapter 9

at the extant fragments, Theopompus uses τοιοῦτος in a pejorative sense and

never to praise someone.42 Does Theopompus play with the readers’ expecta-
tions, leaving ‘such a man’ unqualified so as to clarify its meaning through the
narrative itself? It is plausible to explain this assumed incongruence of judge-
ment on Philip by supposing that Polybius misunderstood Theopompus’ taste
for irony and satire.43 However, there are also other explanations. It is possible
that Polybius disagreed totally with Theopompus’ principles of historiography,
his style and peculiar arrangement of historical material. He might also have
manipulated and altered the original plan of the historical stuff that he con-
sulted.44 Polybius starts his discussion on Theopompus’ historiography at a
point within a section pertainig to Philip v; he says that anyone who writes
Histories concerning kings risks praising (ἐγκωμιάζειν) or falsely blaming (λοι-
δορεῖν ψευδῶς) his subject; instead it would be fair—continues Polybius—to
give an evaluation which is coherent either with what other authors previously
wrote, or with one’s own choices in life (τὸν ἀκόλουθον δὲ τοῖς προγεγραμμένοις
ἀεὶ καὶ τὸν πρέποντα ταῖς ἑκάστων προαιρέσεσι λόγον ἐφαρμόζειν, 8.8.7). The crit-
icism of Theopompus follows (the passage above, 8.9.1–13); after this Polybius
returns to the inconsistency between the promise of noble things implied by
the introduction of the Philippica and the scurrility of the rest of the work: one
should disapprove of such a bitter feeling and the lack of restraint; Theopompus
would deserve, in fact, blame for using a language which contradicts the initial
statement on the subject in question (μαχόμενα λέγει πρὸς τὴν αὐτοῦ πρόθεσιν);
besides he falsely accuses Philip and his friends (8.10.1–2).45 Theopompus is
clearly criticised for the falsity of his statements, but that is not all. Bitterness
(πικρία, 8.10.1 and 12), impudent loquacity, and evil-speaking (ἀθυρογλωττία,
8.10.1, κακορρημοσύνη, 8.10.3) are further key aspects of Theopompus’ way of
writing, according to Polybius. His criticism of Theopompus might be refer-

tyrant is told to have proved to be ‘such a man;’ the following narrative shows clearly the
negative meaning of τοιοῦτος ἀνήρ, since a list of brutal acts follows.
42 Connor (1967): 137–139.
43 Connor (1967): 133–154, Shrimpton (1977): 123–144. Cf. Murray (1946): 149–170.
44 It has been noticed that Polybius is not coherent in his judgememnts on the value
of Theopompus’ historiography: with reference to the issue of autopsy, for instance,
Theopompus is attacked as untrusworthy in one passage and is considered as a model
for historians in another (Polyb. 12.25 f = t 32; 12.27.8–9 = f 342). Bearzot (2005): 55–71.
45 It has been suggested that Polybius’ defence of Philip and his companions of book 8.10 was
strongly influenced by his own political sympathies; as a loyal Arcadian he saw Philip as a
benefactor of Greece and the Peloponnese against Spartan dominion. Walbank (1967 a):
1–12.
‘moralism’ in historiography 225

ring to stylistic features as well: Polybius might also be complaining that that
kind of accusations against Philip do not fit the genre of eulogy and its style
(μαχόμενα λέγει). It is not coincidental that the same kind of criticism—to
say something that contradicts expectations of some sort—comes also from
an author interested in stylistical issues, such as Longinus. He complains that
Theopompus’ description of the Persian campaign of 344 bc against Egypt
failed to produce a tribute to the enormous wealth and power of the Persian
King: instead of going from the humble to the sublime he did the opposite,
showing a hyperbolic praise followed by a meagre conclusion (De subl. 43.1–
2 = t 42 and f 263).
In ancient works, and especially in biographical writings, private life was
an essential part of a man’s personality. The biographic genre did not sepa-
rate private from public sphere, as we do today. Theopompus’ peculiar view of
peoples, full of alleged inconsistencies, might anticipate some aspects that will
be found in later constructions of bioi, where ‘integrated’ characters show gen-
eral traits and personal qualities that cluster together. The technique of gradual
redefinition, typical of ancient biographers, consists in starting with a general
truth about a personage, and in correcting it gradually by complementing and
re-defining it, so that at the end we find a much more singular portrait than
at the beginning. This does not mean that the personage becomes different,
but it is only that the initial definition does not fit him fully.46 So it is pos-
sible that Theopompus started his work by saying that Philip of Macedonia
was that sort of man whom Europe had never seen before, yet he re-defined
progressively the character of his personage by adding further and different ele-
ments. Of course, seen in isolation and out of context, many of Theopompus’
statements about peoples and individuals appear highly contradictory; and this
is so perhaps also because we cannot appreciate wholly Theopompus’ way of
employing antithesis.47 So, we learn through a laconic sentence that the dem-
agogue Callistratus was ἐπιμελής as well as incontinent in pleasures (πρὸς μὲν
τὰς ἡδονὰς ἦν ἀκρατής, τῶν δὲ πολιτικῶν πραγμάτων [ἦν] ἐπιμελής, f 97 = Athen.
4 p. 166 e), or that Eubulus was ἐπιφανέστατος, ἐπιμελής and φιλόπονος, and he
weakened his city through public distributions of money as well (ἀργύριόν τε
συχνὸν πορίζων τοῖς Ἀθηναίοις διένειμε, διὸ καὶ τὴν πόλιν ἐπὶ τῆς τούτου πολιτείας
ἀνανδροτάτην καὶ ῥαιθυμοτάτην συνέβη γενέσθαι, f 99 = Harpocr. s.v. Εὔβουλος).

46 Plutarch’s Lysander, for example, did not become unspartan progressively, he was already
initially an unspartan figure, but only not wholly defined as such. Pelling (2011 a): 283–333
has found and described this ancient technique of constructing personages. Cf. Candau
Moron (2000): 453–478.
47 Cf. Pownall (2004): 167–175.
226 chapter 9

According to fragment 81, Philip sent Agathocles, one of the Thessalian slaves,
to destroy the Perrhaebians. Agathocles was dissolute and accompanied Philip
in his drinking bouts, dancing and making jokes. Then, the narrator adds that
Philip joined those kinds of men with whom he wasted the greater part of the
time in hard drinking and buffoonery and also took counsel with them over the
most serious matters (οἷς διὰ φιλοποσίαν καὶ βωμολοχίαν πλείω χρόνον ὡς τὰ πολλὰ
συνδιέτριβε καὶ συνήδρευε περὶ τῶν μεγίστων βουλευόμενος, Athen. 6 pp. 259 f–
260 a).
For Theopompus a person may be akrates as well as epimeles or philoponos,
or even philotimos. So for Theopompus Cimon is moderate to a certain extent,
but nonetheless a clear example of the philotimos, the man whose actions are
based on personal ambition and desire from prominence (f 89).48 Criticism
of this type runs through many of the fragments of the Philippica, as philo-
timia, ambitious rivalry, leads Nicocles and Straton to their bad ends (f 114),
and Zopyrus to his self-inflicted disfigurement (f 66). Flower has suggested that
Theopompus considered φιλοτιμία and φιλονικία as traits of Agesilaus’ charac-
ter too.49 This is inferred from the account of Agesilaus’ assumed bribery of
the Thebans which caused their withdraw from Laconia, as related by Plutarch
(Plut. Ages. 32.8 = f 323; 370bc); here Plutarch is skeptical about Theopom-
pus’ testimony (all other sources did not relate that episode), and adds that all
sources agreed that Agesilaus saved Sparta at that time, and managed affairs
safely, because he put aside his innate passions: ambition and contentious-
ness (33.1 = f 323).50 Theopompus’ approbation of Agesilaus’ virtue—of which
the king himself was proud, according to the historian (f 321)—might be only
one aspect (among others) of the historian’s contruction of Agesilaus’ per-
sonality, where there would be also room for personal ambition and other
selfish, or less honourable, motives. Part of Theopoompus’ construction of
Agesilaus-as-personality may reflect, moreover, a consolidated literary tradi-
tion which, echoing a well-known Spartan stereotype, goes back a long way to
Herodotus’ narrative. Let us consider, for example, the following passage given
by Athenaeus, who cites Theopompus (f 22 = Athen. 14 p. 657 b–c):

48 As Wade-Gery (1938): 129–134 noticed, fragment 89 is not so much a tribute to disinterested

benevolence, for it gives the portrait of a skillful politician, whose generosity is the key to
his popularity and political power.
49 Flower (1994): 173.
50 However, these are distinctive aspects of Plutarch’s own characterisation of Agesilaus
too, developed throughout the Life and coming out also in passages that may well be
independent from Theopompus. Cf. Russell (1995): 75–94.
‘moralism’ in historiography 227

Theopompus mentions grain-fattened geese and calves in book xiii of the

History of Philip and book xi of the History of Greece, where he calls atten-
tion to the Spartans’ discipline where the consumption of food is con-
cerned, writing as follows: ‘as Agesilaus was approaching, the Thasians
sent him herd-animals of all kinds and well-fed cows, as well as pastries
and every type of snack. Agesilaus accepted the sheep and goat and the
cows, but initially failed to notice the pastries and the snacks, since they
were covered up. But when he saw them, he ordered the Thasians to take
them away, saying that Spartans were not allowed to consume food of this
sort. When the Thasians insisted, he said: “Take it and give it to them,”
pointing towards the helots, as a way of saying that he much preferred
that the helots be ruined by eating this food than that he and the other
Spartans who were there be.’

The narrative pattern is not wholly new, as the account seems modelled on
the Herodotean prototypical tale of Pausanias’ reaction to Mardonius’ luxu-
rious dinner preparations (9.82).51 The topic of Spartan frugality recalls also
Xenophon’s account of Spartan wintering in Asia during Agesilaus’ campaign
of 395 bc (Hell. 4.1.16, ἐνταῦθα μὲν δὴ διεχείμαζε, καὶ αὐτόθεν καὶ σὺν προνομαῖς
τὰ ἐπιτήδεια τῇ στρατιᾷ λαμβάνων). The anecdote of Spartan generals’ frugal-
ity at dinner is later used by Aelianus with reference to the Ionic campaign of
Lysander (v.h. 3.20). This was thus a well-known pattern, widespread in ancient
times. Furthermore, the story of Agesilaus who refuses pastries and any kind of
sweets given him by the Thasians is adopted later by Plutarch, who re-adapts
the same pattern to Agesialus’ Egyptian campaign, where the stress on the
laconic way of living is still more evident: the old king appears, in fact, as lying
in some grass by the sea covered with a cloak that was coarse and mean (Ages.
36.4–6).
Theopompus and to some extent also Xenophon distance themselves from
the Oxyrhynchus historian’s historiographical practice in following the self-
control = positive outcome ~ lack of it = negative outcome pattern. Besides,
Theopompus’ syngraphe shows outcomes that are compromised by very nega-
tive elements, even if they can coexist in themselves with positive ones perhaps
without a real contradiction. This sort of ‘moralistic’ approach to history clashes
with the ho’s practice, according to which ‘moral’ elements are a means to
explain results and responsibilities.

51 Jacoby ii b Comm. p. 357.

228 chapter 9

9.4 Praise/Blame in Ephorus?

Aware of the hazard of using modern categories and applying them to ancient
works, in this section we aim to clarify and deal with possible kinds of ‘moral-
ism’ traceable in Ephorus’ narrative and to understand whether his narrative
shows patterns already found in the ho (‘explanatory’ moralism), Xenophon’s
Hellenica (‘descriptive,’ ‘prescriptive’ and ‘explanatory moralism’) and Theo-
pompus’ works (‘descriptive’ and ‘prescriptive moralism’).
Is Ephorus a moralist? The issue is huge, and dangerous as it deals closely
with the aims and interests of the indirect tradition that preserved parts of
his work. Diodorus in particular is relevant, as the Bibliotheke is filled with
sentiments of moral utility; and because Diodorus uses Ephorus extensively it
was quite natural among scholars to assume that he drew ethical assessments
from Ephorus.52
German scholarship of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries elaborated
the view that the categories of praise and blame were applied to historiography
at the time of Ephorus and were connected with the practice of demonstra-
tive oratory;53 this view was shared later by other scholars.54 There are two
main Ephorean passages which scholars usually emphasised and took as proofs
of Ephorus’ assumed ‘moralism:’ Polybius’ reference to Ephorus’ epimetrounta
logon, which has been meant as a kind of critical appraisal55 (12.28.10–11 = t 23)
or eulogy,56 and Strabo’s statement that Ephorus was accustomed to resorting
to paradigms of human conduct (paradeigmata poieisthai, 7.3.9 = f 42). Con-
cerning Polybius’ testimony, the phrase ἐπιμετρῶν λόγος was explained with the
patterns of praise and censure contained in Diodorus’ narrative; in so doing
the didactic function and moralistic texture of the Bibliotheke were projected
directly onto Ephorus’ narrative, and were considered, therefore, as chief char-
acteristics of Ephorus’ work. Furthermore, we must stress that Polybius’ treat-
ment of Ephorus may be misleading or difficult to pin down, as it is embedded
within his criticism of Timaeus, whose historiographical method and aims are
the main subject of Polybius’ attacks, reasoning, and discussion. So we read,
for example, that Ephorus himself (along with Theopompus, moreover) is crit-

52 Cf. esp. Jacoby FGrHist 70, t 23, ii c Comm. p. 38; Pédech (1961): 148; Walbank (1967 b): 411.
Contra Sacks (1990): 23–54; Parmeggiani (2011): 49–55 and passim. Recently Pownall (2004)
has suggested that Ephorus’ work uses moral categories in giving historical explanations.
53 The issue is discussed by Chávez Reino (2005): 19–54.
54 See, for instance, Fornara (1983): 108 and Flower (1994): 175.
55 Fornara (1983): 108–112.
56 Scheller (1911): 48–50, Laqueur (1911): 342–343.
‘moralism’ in historiography 229

icised for lack of political and military experience (12.25 f), but then he is
appreciated for his direct experience of things in contrast with Timaeus’ book-
ish knowledge (12.27.8–9). That is, Ephorus’ historiographical method remains
highly elusive, if we follow Polybius’ evidence. Polybius emphasises the neces-
sity of first-hand experience for a historian, and shows the common opinion
about what were usually considered as requisites for rhetorical and historical
compositions (12.28.8–11):

8. In the preface to his sixth book he [Timaeus] says that ‘some peo-
ple suppose that more genius, industry, and preparation are required for
rhetorical than for historical composition.’ And that ‘this opinion had
been formerly advanced against Ephorus.’ 9. Then because this writer had
been unable to refute those who held it, he undertakes himself to draw a
comparison between history and rhetorical compositions: a most unnec-
essary proceeding altogether. In the first place he misrepresents Ephorus.
10. For in truth, admirable as Ephorus is throughout his whole work, in
style, treatment, and argumentative acuteness, he is more powerful in his
digressions and statements of his personal views: in fact, whenever he is
adding anything in the shape of a commentary or a note (δεινότατός ἐστιν
ἐν ταῖς παρεκβάσεσι καὶ ταῖς ἀφ’ αὑτοῦ γνωμολογίαις, καὶ συλλήβδην ὅταν που
τὸν ἐπιμετροῦντα λόγον διατίθηται). 11. And it so happens that his most ele-
gant and convincing digression is on this very subject of a comparison
between historians and speech-writers.57

What does exactly Polybius mean with the phrase ἐπιμετροῦντα λόγον? As has
been noticed, the expression in question ‘no designa un contenido concreto,
sino más bien un continente, un mecanismo de exposición o componente
del discurso historiográfico, o mejor aún, una dimensión distinta de la simple
dimensión narrativa;’ yet it has been usually identified by scholars with a ‘con-
tenido concreto.’ In other words, the phrase has been wrongly identified with
a specific narrative form, the eulogy; and, consequently, it has been commonly
maintained that Ephorus’ work was characterised by eulogies and by the recur-
rent pattern of praise or blame.58
The expression ἐπιμετροῦντα λόγον recurs other times in Polybius’ Histories
(7.7.7; 15.34.1; cf. 35.1), and refers to the usual practice among historians to
fill up their narrative with deeds that are not worthy of mention in order to

57 Transl. by E.S. Shuckburgh (slightly modified).

58 Chávez Reino (2005): 40–41.
230 chapter 9

manipulate historical truth. This happens when the subject is circumscribed

and narrow, so that historians make small things great for the lack of facts; it
happens also when historians lack their own judgement (7.7.7). According to
Polybius, length, exaggeration, and sensational elements diminish the quality
of narrative (15.34.1):

I am quite aware of the miraculous occurrences and embellishments

which the chroniclers of this event have added to their narrative with a
view of producing a striking effect upon their hearers, making more of
their comments on the story than of the story itself and the main incidents
(πλείω τὸν ἐπιμετροῦντα λόγον διατιθέμενοι τοῦ συνέχοντος τὰ πράγματα καὶ
κυρίου).

With reference to 12.28.10 the phrase ἐπιμετροῦντα λόγον may well indicate
extensive parts of Ephorus’ work which included personal judgements in di-
gressive form. Though Polybius’ reference to Ephorus’ fondness for parekbaseis
and gnomologiai59 might suggest that the narrative was characterised by a sen-
tentious style, nevertheless that tendency would be eventually only one aspect
of the character of the writing as a whole: the historian is indeed most pow-
erful (δεινότατός ἐστιν) when he inserts digressions and personal judgements,
and, generally speaking, whenever he adds parts of some length in which he
expresses his view (12.28.10); therefore, one should not expect this practice
everywhere in the narrative. It is thus possible that what Polybius says of Eph-
orus, praising his method (12.28.10–11), does not refer exactly to the character
of Ephorus’ narrative as a whole, especially in consideration that Polybius is
replying here to the charges that Timaeus had moved against Ephorus.60
Things become more complicated when we consider the debate lying be-
hind Polybius’ statements on Ephorus’ historiographical method. The issue
at stake is the different kind of equipment required by historical writings
and epideictic speeches. According to Polybius, Ephorus would make remarks
on the difference between historians and speech-writers in a convincing way
(εὐχαριστότατα καὶ πιθανώτατα περὶ τῆς συγκρίσεως εἴρηκε τῆς τῶν ἱστοριογράφων
καὶ λογογράφων, 12.28.11); this is said against Timaeus’ statement, according to
which Ephorus could not give a satisfactory answer to those who had the idea
that more industry, training and talent was required by epideictic writings than
historical. Thus, the relation between history and oratory at the time of Ephorus

59 Cf. Arist. Rhet. 1394, 19.

60 Cf. Chávez Reino (2005): 35–39.
‘moralism’ in historiography 231

and Timaeus was quite controversial, something very different from common
scholarly opinion according to which fourth-century historiography was a kind
of epideictic or demonstrative oratory.61 In modern scholarly opinion, in fact,
Ephorus, following Isocrates’ teaching about moral utility, would show models
of good behaviour (paradeigmata poieisthai) and use praise as a tool of moral
improvement for the reader; his Histories would aim at setting forth paradigms,
or inspirational models, that incite people to virtue.62 And fragment 42 is
usually mentioned as a proof of Ephorus’ use of paradigms in his work (= Strab.
7.3.9):

[…] Now the other writers, [Ephorus] says, tell only about [Scythian]
savagery, because they know that the terrible and the marvellous are
startling, but one should tell the opposite facts too and make them pat-
terns of conduct (παραδείγματα ποιεῖσθαι), and [Ephorus] himself, there-
fore, will tell only about those who follow ‘most just’ habits, for there are
some of the Scythian nomads who feed only on mare’s milk, and excel all
men in justice.63 […]

Whether we translate paradeigmata poieisthai with ‘pattern of conduct,’ that

is a moral paradigm (Sacks), or whether we follow Fornara’s reading (Ephorus’
would provide ‘a paradigm or model [of what is good instead of bad]’)64 which
shows that Ephorus is here correcting a distortion occurred in the ethnographi-
cal tradition, the weight of oratory in Ephorus’ work remains something unclear
and unspecified. Besides, the belief that the emphasis on paradigmatic and
praiseworthy deeds will benefit readers seems close to the approach of Strabo
and his contemporaries.65 From Dionysius’ Roman Antiquities it is clear that he
envisaged the historical genre as programmatically66 encomiastic (1.1.23; 2.1). A

61 Fornara (1983): 108–109. The same idea that Philistus of Syracuse, a fourth-century histo-
rian, follower of Thucydides, provided ‘bulletins of praise and blame’ (p. 108) cannot be
asserted with certainty. Dionysius of Halicarnassus says that Philistus is trivial and paltry
whatever his subject may be, whether he is describing sieges or settlements, or dispens-
ing praise or censure. This statement is not sufficient in itself to show that the historian
organises his material according to the pattern of praise and blame (ad Pomp. 5 = FGrHist
566, t 16 a–b).
62 Fornara (1983): 110.
63 Transl. by Sacks (1990): 28.
64 Fornara (1983): 110–111.
65 See Sacks (1990): 28–29.
66 In fact many of the cases that Dionysius treats in the narrative can hardly be seen as
232 chapter 9

bit later, Lucian too in How to Write History takes for granted the nobility (τὸ
κάλλος) of the historian’s subject-matter (45); and from the extent of the part
devoted to the topic of praise (7–14) it seems that he, like Dionysius, expected
that any historical works had an encomiastic slant.67
The discussion so far shows that Ephorus’ disposition to digress and moralise
or, better, to moralise through digressions cannot be firmly stated in light of
Polybius’ and Strabo’s evidence (Polyb. 12.28.8–11, Strab. 7.3.9). Diodorus, for his
part, is of little aid, since his moralistic judgements may coincide with those
of Ephorus, but only to the extent to which they are compatible with his own
historiographical concerns and aims.68 Nor is it possible to speak in terms of
praise and blame with reference to Ephorus’ historiographical method. It is
true that the historian might approve people’s behaviour in some cases and
disapprove of it in others, but that cannot be simply considered as a proof of
the fact the narrative constantly deploys the praise ~ blame pattern.69
A certain tendency to put in connection luxurious, violent, impious peo-
ple with negative outcomes and frugality and simple lifestyle with positive
ones can be found in Ephorus’ fragments. It seems that, as in the previous
cases of Theopompus and Xenophon, so also here moral prescriptions on
how to behave eventually come to the reader indirectly, through the exem-
pla given by the narrative itself. Fragment 183 (Athen 12.26. p. 523 e) shows
that so long as the Milesians avoided moral decay they were powerful, and
were able to defeat the Scythians. Because of their military lifestyle the Pelas-
gians not only gained great glory but also spread all over Greece, including
Crete, Thessaly, and the Peloponnese (f 113 = Strab. 5.2.4). In the following
part of fragment 42, already mentioned above, we read that since the nomad
Scythians were frugal in their lifestyle and not money-getters, they were orderly
towards one another—they had all things in common, their wives, children, the
whole of their kin and everything—and remained also invincible and uncon-
quered by outsiders. The Aetolians remained unconquered due to their mil-
itary valour and a simple way of life in a rugged territory that was unattrac-

positive: his early Romans often behaved very badly, and it took skill and diplomacy to
calm things down. The long treatment of Coriolanus in books 6–8, for instance, is highly
moralistic, but hardly encomiastic.
67 Woodman (1988), 40–42.
68 So Sacks (1990): 35, ‘an interesting case is his assessment of Epaminondas (xv 88). Dio-
dorus probably drew upon either non-Ephoran traditions or his own resources in shaping
part of the eulogy, and the emphasis on the moderate behavior (ἐπιείκεια) is a tell-tale sign
of Diodorus’ intrusion.’
69 Pownall (2004): 133–142.
‘moralism’ in historiography 233

tive to any conquerors (f 122 a = Strab. 10.3.2). The reasons for Spartan good
social order lay in the harmony (ὁμόνοια) which arose from the elimination of
greed (πλεονεξία) and luxury (τρυφή) in favour of a communal lifestyle (f149
= Strab. 10.4.16). On the contrary, the Phocian commanders who stole the
offerings made at Delphi by Alcmaeon and Menelaus met appropriate fate:
their wives betrayed them, after dressing in the jewellery that belonged to
the women of the donors (f 96 = Athen. 6 p. 232 d). Perpetrators of offences
may come to a bad end too: the arrogant Corinthians were defeated by the
Megarians as a result of their oppressive behaviour (f 19 = Schol. Plat. Euthyd.
292 e).
In addition, with due caution, we may find it plausible that tryphe70 is
for Ephorus something that determines the course of events. However, we
rely only on Diodorus’ text, and namely on those passages of the Bibliotheke
that are usually considered as coming from Ephorus, and where references
to tryphe appear just twice. One case refers to the Spartan regent Pausanias
who is condemned for following the luxurious habits of the Persians and
thus for causing the loss of Spartan hegemony (11.46.1–3); the other example
involves Sparta again, and refers to her decadence due to tryphe and to a case of
corruption by money that happened four hundred years after Lycurgus’ reform
(7.12.8).71 Presumably, this point later became a commonplace, as it figures
largely in Plutarch’s Lysander.
Other evidence suggests, however, that Ephorus might well have given some
sort of explanations in terms of personal motives, where moral themes are
implicit or even absent. Personal reasons lead both Pharnabazus’ action and
that of Pericles (ff 196, and 70), according to Ephorus, or better to what Dio-
dorus ascribes to Ephorus’ report; the content of fragments 196 and 70 recalls
the description of Spartan loss of power due to those peoples who held power
at Sparta (Diod. 11.46.1–3 and 7.12.8, already quoted). The examples of Phar-
nabazus and Pericles show a certain tendency of the historian to simplify
the relation of cause and effect and to concentrate on the reasons of single
personalities and/or peoples. This can be said, for instance, of that explanation
according to which people who are militarily active and morally incorruptible
maintain their autonomy. So, the natural state of Boeotia, the fertility of the
soil, surrounded by three seas, and the great number of harbours made that
territory naturally well suited to hegemony (f 119 = Strab. 9.2.2):

70 Cf. Gorman-Gorman (2007): 38–60.

71 Cf. Sacks (1990): 49.
234 chapter 9

but those who were from time to time its leaders neglected careful train-
ing and education, and therefore, though they at times achieved suc-
cess, they maintained it only for a short time, as is shown in the case of
Epaminondas; for after he died the Thebans immediately lost the hegem-
ony, having had only a taste of it; and that the cause of this was the fact
that they belittled the value of learning and of intercourse with mankind,
and cared for the military virtues alone (αἴτιον δὲ εἶναι τὸ λόγων καὶ ὁμιλίας
τῆς πρὸς ἀνθρώπους ὀλιγωρῆσαι, μόνης δ’ ἐπιμεληθῆναι τῆς κατὰ πόλεμον ἀρε-
τῆς).72

In this case, however, we are dealing with Strabo’s phrasing which shows the
content of Ephorus’ account on Boeotia rather than with Ephorus’ own words.
Again, Ephorus’ account of the causes of the Peloponnesian war (f 196 = Diod.
12.38),73 as presented by Diodorus (αἰτίαι μὲν οὖν τοῦ Πελοποννησιακοῦ πολέμου
τοιαῦταί τινες ὑπῆρξαν, ὡς Ἔφορος ἀνέγραψε, 12.41), focuses on personal grounds
too. Diodorus ascribes to him the story of the charge of embezzlement of public
money made against Pheidias and Pericles; this charge would make Pericles
think it ‘advantageous to himself to involve the city in a major war;’ in this
way he would not be asked to give an explanation to the Athenians for the use
of that money. The charge against Pericles and his entourage echoes similar
statements made by Aristophanes,74 and it has been maintained that Ephorus,
like all those who did not grew up in classical Athens, failed to understand
the character of the political comedy of Aristophanes’ time.75 Yet, aside from
the clearly anecdotic character of the story, we do not know what Ephorus
may have thought of his sources, and why he chose Aristophanes rather than
Thucydides in giving that account. Another instance of personal motivations
concerns Alcibiades, the same person who had suggested to Pericles the trick
‘you should be seeking some means not how to render but how not to render
an accounting’ (f 196 = Diod. 12.38),76 and who was later victim of a plot
against his person planned by Pharnabazus. Alcibiades, learning of Cyrus’
planning against his brother, Artaxerxes, went to Pharnabazus and told him
everything, asking for someone who would conduct him on a mission to the
King. But Pharnabazus preceded Alcibiades in revealing the plot to the King,

72 Transl. by H.L. Jones.

73 Cf. f 193 = Schol. Aristoph. Nub. 859.
74 Pax 603–606; 609–611; Ach. 530.
75 Dover (1988): 45–52, 50.
76 This comes in Plutarch’s Alcibiades too, though here there is no explicit mention of
Ephorus.
‘moralism’ in historiography 235

and arranged Alcibiades’ murdering on the road to Susa. The cause of Alcibi-
ades’ killing, according to Ephorus’ account, is to be found in Pharnabazus’
desire to play up to the King (f 70 = 14.11.1–4). In all these examples, which
show personal-leves explanations, a morally negative judgement is likely to be
implicit in the author’s own mind.
There are, moeover, cases in which personal and collective motivations are
conncted with aetiological explanations that have nothing to do with ‘moral-
istic’ views. Think of the Doliones who attacked the inhabitants of Thessaly
and Magnesia, since they had been driven out by them (διὰ τὸ ἀπελασθῆ-
ναι, f 61 = Schol. Apoll. 1.1037). Other times historical explanations remind
us of the flavour of Herodotus’ narrative. So Agamemnon invited Diomedes
and Alcmaeon to take part in the Trojan expedition because he feared (δεί-
σαντα μὴ) that they both might subdue the Argolis in his absence; and though
Diomedes was persuaded to take part in that expedition, Alcmaeon refused to
heed the invitation. And this is the aetiological reason why the Acarnanians
alone refused to share in the expedition with the Greeks (f 123 = Strab. 10.2.25).
Furthermore, inner and personal reasons explain people’s actions in a way
that recalls Theopompus’ historiographical method, as described by Dionysius
of Halicarnassus (the historian investigates feelings, and more than on events
and actions he focuses on the character of people about whom he speaks; cf.
above).77 From Ephorus’ own words we learn about Dercyllidas. Athenaeus
reports that the historian in book 18 said that the Spartan Dercyllidas was called
Skyphos,78 and then he gives his exact phrasing (f 71 = Athen. 11 p. 500 c):

Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἀντὶ Θίμβρωνος Δερκυλλίδαν ἔπεμψαν εἰς τὴν Ἀσίαν, ἀκούοντες

ὅτι πάντα πράττειν εἰώθασιν οἱ περὶ τὴν Ἀσίαν βάρβαροι μετὰ ἀπάτης καὶ
δόλου. διόπερ Δερκυλλίδαν ἔπεμψαν ἥκιστα νομίζοντες ἐξαπατηθήσεσθαι· ἦν
γὰρ οὐδὲν ἐν τῶι τρόπωι Λακωνικὸν οὐδ’ ἁπλοῦν ἔχων, ἀλλὰ πολὺ τὸ πανοῦργον
καὶ τὸ θηριῶδες. διὸ καὶ Σκύφον αὐτὸν οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι προσηγόρευον.

The decision to send Dercyllidas is based on the Spartans’ assumption (νομίζον-

τες) that he would be more suitable for that duty than any other; and this was
so because he did not behave like a Spartan, but was brutal, ready to do any-
thing, and showed duplicitous qualities. The voice of the narrator comes in to
clarify (ἦν γὰρ οὐδέν) the previous point, which is given through the Spartans’
eyes. Since Dercyllidas’ ethos is defined as θηριῶδες, does the narrator (and with

77 Cf. Parmeggiani (2011): 475.

78 This may be a corruption of the name Σίσυφος.
236 chapter 9

him the author) feel disappointed about the Spartan general? In the absence
of the full context it is not possible to answer the question; crucial would be, in
fact, to bring out how much approval of Spartan qualities (ἁπλοῦν) is normally
shown by the narrator. Dercyllidas appears here like Lysander in the relative
Life of Plutarch, where he too is called πανοῦργος (and σοφιστής), a man acting
through deceit (Lys. 7.3–4), totally different from Callicratidas, with whom he
is compared, and whose simplicity, pride, and justice are judged worthy of a
Spartan (ἁπλοῦς 5.5; 7.1). Even so, we are not sure here that the narrator’s voice
is totally inclined to Callicratidas and critical of Lysander. The same Spartan
traits of his character, ‘ambition and contentiousness,’ give rise to a wider range
of unspartan behaviour, in paying court to foreign potentates, in weakening the
Spartan system by introducing wealth, in his deviousness, versatility and enter-
prise, religious unscrupulousness, and shrewd but bloody exploitation of party
divisions in foreign cities in the interest of his own followers and friends. It
seems as if all that is a sort of result of the competitive spirit of Spartan educa-
tion. Similarly, Lysander’s rival, the more conventional Spartan, Callicratidas, is
not exempt from mockery due to Spartan simplicity which he expresses (6.5–
7). Nor can we infer that Lysander’s unspartan behaviour of chapters 17 (the
sending of money to Sparta), 20 and 25 (the attempts to corrupt oracles), 30
(the proposal of a constitutional reform opening up the kingships to all Hera-
clides), where Ephorus79 is quoted as a source, is a clear indication of the histo-
rian’s criticism of Lysander.80 Plutarch’s Lysander, who shows Spartan traits and
qualities, may be either unspartan, unscrupulous and harsh, if compared with
Callicratidas, or a mild and moderate leader, if compared with Sulla.81 Again,
Lysander may be more straightforward than other canonical Spartans, such as
Agesilaus, Pausanias and Gylippus. His personal incorruptibility is thrown into
relief by the contrast with Gylippus and the average Spartan (17). Outwitted by
Pharnabazus in 404 bc, Lysander with much difficulty obtains permission from
the ephors to go to Libya and consult the oracle of Ammon; on his return he is
sent to Athens to maintain the rule of the Thirty, and he is snubbed by Pausa-
nias: Lysander, the honest patriot, is seen against the jealousy of the double-
dealing king (21–22). Finally, Lysander plays a decisive part in the accession of
Agesilaus; despite that, once established, Agesilaus ignores the obligations he
owed in return to Lysander; for he is not less ambitious than the other, and,
moreover, jealous of his equals (23).

79 At chapters 17 and 30 he is quoted along with Theopompus.

80 Parmeggiani (2011): 478.
81 Cf. Stadter (1992): 41–53, Russell (1995): 75–94, Pelling (2011 a): 292–300.
‘moralism’ in historiography 237

Personal reasons of individuals are found in the seemingly pro-Spartan

policy of Dionysius the younger (f 211 = Schol. Aristid. p. 294. 13): he made an
agreement with the Persian King so that he appeared as helping the Spartans
against the Athenians (ἵνα τῷ μὲν φαινομένῳ Λακεδαιμονίοις βοηθῶν ἔλθῃ κατ’
Ἀθηναίων), but his true aim was devastating Greece and sharing part of his
power with the Persian (τῇ δὲ ἀληθείᾳ πορθήσας τὴν Ἑλλάδα πᾶσαν μετὰ Πέρσου
μερίσειεν). Here Ephorus, if Strabo is close to the original phrasing, seems to
echo Thucydides’ and the Oxyrhynchus historian’s causal language.
Now, possibly Ephorus was also particularly interested in aetiology and the
origin of customs, as some fragments would suggest; think of the discussion
why Homer was called Homer and Melesigenes (f 1 = [Plut] vit. Hom. 1.2), the
explanation of the origin of the Apaturian festival (f 22 = Arpocr. s. Ἀπατούρια),
as well as the account of the reason for the development of trade market in
Aegina (176 = Strab. 8.6.16). But, again, we cannot be certain that all that is part
of a broader historiographical plan, or if it responds rather to the interests of
the sources that preserved Ephorus’ work or to the demands of particular sto-
ries in context. In fact, it is Strabo’s geographical and ethnographical interests
that invite us to associate Ephorus’ narrative to Herodotus’ Histories. Mythical
accounts,82 foundations of cities,83 and stories of oracles84 that can be found
throughout Ephorus’ fragments are also some of the main threads of the nar-
rative texture of Herodotus’ work. And Ephorus’ account of the causes of the
Nile’s flooding and of the manner in which that river reaches the sea, if pre-
served, might have said a lot about that relation.85 However this—the usual
proviso with fragments—may be a consequence of the interests of those who
quoted Ephorus’ fragments: we cannot be sure that the texture of the fragments
is a typical sample of Ephorus’ own work and interests, and the subject-matter
and source-material may be imposing their own style of preferred explanation.

9.5 Conclusion

Just as in Thucydides, so also in the Oxyrhynchus historian ‘morality’ has the

primary function of enhancing our understanding. Moral examples may teach
ethical behaviour, and might be meant as a legacy for future generations of

82 f 31 b = Strab. 9.3.11–12; 34.

83 f 216 = Strab. 6.3.3.
84 f 134 a = Strab. 5.4.5.
85 f 65 e = Diod. 1.37.4. Cf. Aristid. [36] 64. On Ephorus’ use of Herodotus as a source see
Jacoby FGrHist ii c p. 31.
238 chapter 9

leaders and generals. Yet the Oxyrhynchus historian is mainly interested in

explaining why things happened as they did, and, unlike Thucydides, he has
no concern for human behaviour and psychology. He seems to elaborate an
approach that, in reading the past, has its main focus in matters of immediate
contingency. If the Oxyrhynchus historian’s moral outlook may be aimed at giv-
ing political advice or injunctions that should ideally be implemented, it does
not seem to convey any general ethical truth about human phusis; morality is
mainly an explanatory means by which the narrator clarifies and expounds how
and why certain historical courses took place in a specific way.
The discussion of ‘morality’ in the ho has invited us to turn to other con-
temporary authors and their particular intellectual context, where a peculiar
concern for instructing the reader in virtues and in giving moral exempla is
found. I refer to Xenophon, Theopompus and Ephorus, whose historical works
are evaluated today in relation to the modern category of ‘moralism.’86 To some
extent this category might appear as an overstatement of that presumed histor-
ical trend. However, these authors do have the tendency to give good and bad
examples of both individual and collective behaviour. The character of their
narratives is often inspirational and uplifting in intent.

86 Pownall (2004): 65–175.

Conclusion

The Oxyrhynchus historian and Thucydides have similar ways of exploiting

moral exempla in giving historical explanations. The terminology connected
with the language of causation throughout the ho has shown the narrator’s
approach to attributing blame to peoples and their political actions. Conse-
quently, this gives us good reasons to talk in terms of ‘morality.’ Morality acts
in the ho in a similar way as it does in Thucydides, where it chiefly ‘explains’
things. Moral issues are interwoven with didacticism and with the need to
provide the reader with ethic lessons and paradigms. Moral examples teach
ethical conduct, and they might be conceived by those authors as a legacy
for future generations of leaders and generals. Yet the ho is mainly interested
in explaining why things happened as they did, and there is no concern for
the Thucydidean tendency to generalise about human behaviour and psychol-
ogy. With these results in mind, the comparison between the historiographical
practices of the Oxyrhynchus historian, Theopompus, Ephorus and Xenopohn’s
Hellenica has proved to be very helpful, especially in consideration of the fact
that Theopompus and Ephorus are potential candidates for the authoriship
issue of the ho. This has allowed us to find patterns of ‘moralism’ that make
the historiographical perspective of Xenophon, Theopompus, and presumably
also of Ephorus, quite different from the view offered by the Oxyrhynchus histo-
rian’s narrative. More clearly than Ephorus, Theopompus and Xenophon show
patterns of ‘moralism’ which we have defined as ‘explanatory,’ ‘descriptive,’ and
‘prescriptive.’1 Explanatory moralism consists in explaining ethical conducts;
regarding descriptive and prescriptive moralism, the former shows when a
certain type of behaviour is just illustrated, while the latter gives implicit or
explicit protreptic indications on how someone should behave. Ephorus seems
to share some narrative features with Xenophon and Theopompus: in his frag-
ments there is in fact a certain tendency to put in connection luxurious, violent,
impious people with negative outcomes and frugality and simple lifestyle with
positive ones; moral prescriptions on how to behave come to the reader indi-
rectly, through the exempla given by the narrative itself. It is also possible that
Ephorus echoes Thucydides’ and the Oxyrhynchus historian’s causal language,
which shows ‘explanatory’ features in connection with the notion of ‘morality.’
However, the flavour of Ephorus’ narrative is hard to be catched; for, unlike the
case of Theopompus, in Ephorus’ fragments there are very few occurrences that

1 Theopompus shows only examples of ‘descriptive,’ and ‘prescriptive’ moralism.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_011

240 conclusion

give the historians’ exact words and phrasing in some lenght.2 And the majority
of the examples connected with ‘moralistic’ aspects come from indirect quota-
tions.3 Despite this, however, the results achieved thus far along with the use
of some historiographical categories connected with the notion of ‘moralism’
can be a helpful tool of enquiry and a good starting point in future studies for
a broader re-consideration of the authorship issue of the ho.
Further aspects have emerged throughout this book. The ho’s material is
arranged according to a clear syncronistic narrative style (events happened at
sea, on land, and on the Greek mainland); however, the narrative seen as a
whole clearly relies on an annalistic framework. In adopting this approach, the
historian followed and combined both Thucydidean and Herodotean meth-
ods of composition. A good sample of elaborate ring composition style can be
found in the account of the Corinthian war. The narration unfolds in a manner
consistent with a ring composition structure, very much after the Herodotean
model; and it also shows a well-balanced and symmetric disposition of the
material, according to an a-b-b1-b-c-b-b1-b-a scheme. The narrative goes back-
ward and forward, from one scene to another, and in so doing it abandons
a straightforward, linear, exposition and continuously breaks the logical and
chronological order of events. Yet, differently from Herodotus, whose narrative
contains various voices, or focalisations, aside from the controlling voice of the
narrator, but, at any rate, does not suggest which stories are more or less trust-
worthy, the ho’s narrator has a predominant role, and his ‘digressive’ style gives
evidence that he has undertaken to guide his reader in forming opinions about
what happened.
The Oxyrhynchus historian shows to adopt fifth- and fourth-century Athe-
nian political vocabulary in his narrative. This has also some implications
for the date of composition of the ho. The historian is aware of Thucydides’
narrative, and indeed he uses some Thucydidean categories of political lan-
guage, but in some cases he re-adapts and applies them in a particular way.
For example, the Thucydidean notion of polypragmosyne, a feature of Athens
as a whole, comes into the analysis of the political groups described in the
ho and becomes a feature of what the democrats are represented as doing.
Besides, the Oxyrhynchus historian applies to a party active at Athens in the
390s a kind of expansionist policy (polypragmosyne) which is highly unrealis-
tical for two main reasons: it proved to be unsuccessful in the medium-term,
as that party did not achieve its goals; furthermore, what the Oxyrhynchus his-

2 ff 16, 20, 21, 24, 27, 29, 30, 31, 42, 43, 47, 52, 54, 63, 65 f, 76, 82–84, 90, 95, 97.
3 With the exception of ff 71 and 96.
conclusion 241

torian ascribes to Athens’ policy of that time seems more fully justified if seen
against the later developments of the 350s and the political debate of those
years (on Philip’s expansionism in Greece). Therefore we suggest ascribing the
ho to the second half of the 350s or a bit later—346 at latest.4 Another exam-
ple of the Oxyrhynchus historian’s use of the Athenian political vocabulary is
given by the account of the Boeotian constitution. Here the historian appears
as influenced by a kind of political language which is redolent of Thucydides;
he merges technical terms of Thucydides’ use with those typical of Boeotian
institutions: boule and bouleutai along with synedria (P. Oxy. v 842, ll. 412, 433,
405)5 and archontes, archon along with boiotarchos, boiotarches (ll. 394, 399,
404, 408).6
The ho thus recalls Thucydides’ language and his view of politics. There
is one particular Thucydideanism in the text that immediately attracts the
attention of the discriminating reader, that is, the constant recourse to a kind
of explanatory mode that echoes Thucydides’ theory of causation and his use
of prophasis and aitia/aition. The language of conflict is beyond any doubt
intimately related to the theme of historical causation, and the ho’s debt to
Thucydides’ view of individual and collective responsibilities is noteworthy.
Thucydides’ reading of Greek staseis can be found not only in the Oxyrhynchus
historian’s narrative but also in that of Xenophon; their works seem to share
the same Thucydidean pattern of seeing Greek cities as torn between oligoi
and demos. Reflections on historical causation and people’s responsibilities
have led us to extend our exploration: the role played by clarity, visibility and
visual language (and also the correlated lack of visibility) have been discussed
here.7 It appears that the language of causation both in Hippocratic texts and
in historical ones shows itself as oscillating between the opposing concepts of
φανερόν ~ ἀφανές and related semantic fields. Φανερόν, σαφές and cognates may
be meant in a metaphorical sense with reference to what is distinctly seen and
clearly understood, in contrast with specious or unclear reasons, explanations
or motives adduced by speakers. They may also be related to ‘visibility’ in a
more concrete sense, like that conveyed by descriptions of physical realities,
such as, for example, battles and ambushes.

4 From internal textual evidence it has been possible to provide the terminus ante quem of
346 bc for the composition of the work. See ch. 5.2.
5 Thucydides uses boule and boulai in reference to the oligarchic Boeotian confederacy (5.38.2).
6 Cf. Roesch (1965): 126–128, Orsi (1974): 29–30, Lérida Lafarga (2007): 543 and 549ff. At chap-
ter 15.2 the Oxyrhynchus historian names synedria ton archonton the oligarchic assembly that
sat at Rhodes before the Athenian coup.
7 Greenwood (2006).
242 conclusion

It is possible that the ho is later (even though slightly later) than Xenophon’s
Hellenica. This comes true if we consider both thematic and internal evidence.
The Oxyrhynchus historian is well aware of Thebes’ hegemonic aspirations, and
in particular of her responsibility in causing the outbreak of the Corinthian
war; he expresses a political evaluation which is quite similar to that offered by
Xenophon (P. Oxy. v 842, 18.2 and Hell. 3.5.3; cf. P. Oxy. v 842, 7.2 and Hell. 3.5.15).
Furthermore, the ho’s narrator makes statements that can be clearly under-
stood if they are put in relation to specific parts of Xenophon’s Hellenica. That
is, in the ho there are a few expressions used in a negative form and in a strong
position within the sentence.8 It is true that they might be explained as internal
references to missing parts of the papyrus; however, there is also the possibil-
ity that for some reason those claims intended to reply to previous statements
made by Xenophon on the same narrative stuff (P. Oxy. v 842, 21.3 and Hell. 4.1.1;
again, P. Oxy. v 842, 22.1 and Hell. 4.1.16). The use of Xenophon’s narrative does
not exclude, however, the possibility that the Oxyrhynchus historian resorts to
other kinds of sources too, such as Persian accounts either written or coming
from informants. It is plausible that the historian, like Ctesias, has in mind Per-
sian audiences. The ho devotes in fact considerable attention to Persian events.
This is apparent when the work is compared with the Hellenica of Xenophon
in reference to those passages of the Asiatic campaign of Agesilaus where the
Spartan king deals with Persian populations: events are seen through the bar-
barian perspective and perceptions other than through the Greek viewpoint.
Besides, the Oxyrhynchus historian shares with Ctesias the preference for writ-
ing Persian names in accordance with their original etymology, differently form
Herodotus, for instance, who gives for them a Graecised or popular form.9
The Oxyrhynchus historian shares historiographical themes with Xenophon.
If compared with Thucydides’ historiographical perspective, for instance, both
the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon show an unprecedented attention
to land scenarios: the idea that it is better for a state to hold hegemony of
land, because as a consequence this gives to that state also sea control, comes
up in their narrative pretty often, directly or indirectly. It is true that old
features may coexist with new ones, and narrative patterns connected with
fifth-century view of hegemony can be still found in Xenophon’s Hellenica:
think of the old-fashioned rhetoric on sea power, the Cimonian idea that
Athens and Sparta ought to share hegemony, etc. Nonetheless, there is also an

8 Agesilaus went down into Hellespontic Phrygia, he led his army οὐκ εἰς [ἣ]ν τοῦ προτέρου
[θέρ]ους ἐνέβαλεν (21.3); After his alliance with the Paphlagonian king Agesilaus ἐποιεῖτο δὲ
τὴν πορε[ί]|αν οὐκέτ[ι τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδόν, ἥν]περ ἦλθε⟨ν⟩, ἀλλ’ ἑτέραν κτλ. (22.2). See ch. 3.4.
9 Schmitt (1979): 119–133.
conclusion 243

attempt at re-defining old themes and ideas by playing with them and forming
new patterns. Perhaps the most telling case is given by Thucydides’ association
of two scenarios, that of Decelea (land scenario), during the last phases of
the Peloponensian war, with Sicily (sea scenario), where the second Athenian
expedition was underway (Decelea ~ Sicily); this pattern has been modified by
both the Oxyrhynchus historian and Xenophon, who connect the account of
the Decelean war with that of the Corinthian war (Decelea ~ Thebes: two land
scenarios). The two historians have replaced the old pattern with a new one,
which fits, certainly, a different historical background but presumably also new
historiographical motivations.
The close relationship between the ho and Xenophon’s Hellenica has led
us to turn to Diodorus’ narrative, for similar themes about hegemony appear
throughout the Bibliotheke too. The examination of selected passages from the
ho, Diodorus’ text and Xenophon’s Hellenica has shown that the historians
share a kind of historiographical practice tending to simplify the relations
between causes and effects of actions and to reduce them to schemas and
simplified patterns. This way recalls orators’ usual custom to generalise rather
than to identify the individual features of states and their policies. In fact, not
only did common themes circulate among historians and orators, but they also
shared a particular way of understanding specific contexts—contemporary
political divisions, political institutions, states holding hegemonic power, land
and sea power—that tended to simplify political terminology so as to bring out
broader meanings. Labels such as plethos/demos and oligarchia, for example,
do not denote particular institutional bodies; they are very general terms that
can endorse particular ethical meanings and nuances in every specific context,
and induce the audience to think in the same terms as those the orator or the
historian desires.
Diodorus has come into question also because he is an important source for
our knowledge of many fragmentary historians. In this book we have been par-
ticularly concerned with the relationship between the ho (all three papyrus
groups)10 and Diodorus’ narrative of books 13–15. A close papyrological exami-
nation of the ho has shown new evidence which has allowed us to supplement
some lines of it (ll. 9–12 of the Florence papyrus); this has also led us to suggest
that Diodorus might have used the Oxyrhynchus historian’s narrative directly,
without Ephorus’ mediation.

10 In chapter 4 passages from the London papyrus, the Florence papyrus and the Cairo
papyrus (P. Oxy. v 842, psi xiii 1304, and 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1) have been examined. In other
chapters we have dealt with the London papyrus.
Appendix

1 A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Theramenes Papyrus

(P. Mich. 5982)*

The figure of Theramenes—the main protagonist of the two Athenian oligarchic revo-
lutions of 411 and 404bc—is elusive. He was clearly controversial: there were different
views within Athenian political circles, separating people, historians, and orators, on
how far he was a reliable and trustworthy politician. He was suspected of delaying
the conclusion of the peace agreements with the Spartans in 404, in order to get the
Athenians to accept those conditions which would be most advantageous for Sparta.1
Nevertheless in the course of time the figure of Theramenes was probably re-thought
and remoulded in a ‘democratic’ sense, probably due to the action of Theramenes’
followers and supporters after the restoration of democracy (404bc); traces of that revi-
sionism are still found in Diodorus.2
A few aspects of this debate that arose around Theramenes need to be reconsidered.
For, however clouded by those strata of ideological construction, one may still wonder
how much realism there might have been in the claims that the politician put forward
within the Athenian assembly in those ticklish peace talks that followed the end of the
Peloponnesian war.
Our examination has its focus on a speech that Theramenes delivered to the Athe-
nian assembly in the aftermath of Aegospotami. The text of it comes from a papyrus
fragment, the so-called Theramenes papyrus (P. Mich. 5982), which Chambers pub-
lished within his edition of the ho in 1993, giving reasons for that choice in the preface:
‘[…] statim [after its discovery] oritur quaestio, an hoc opus pars Hellenicorum esse pos-
sit (haec coniectura a Maximiliano Treu, 1970, et a Luciano Canfora, 1988, probata est).

* I published a version of this section in apf 60 (2014): 34–44.

1 Xen. Hell. 2.2.17; Lys. [12] 68.
2 Diod. 14.3.2–3. In Diodorus’ account of the installation of the Thirty at Athens (404) the
moderate people are presented together with the democrats as forming one single party.
Differently, the Aristotelian evidence makes it clear that the demotikoi and the moderates had
different political views: while the former tried to preserve democracy, the latter, led by their
leader Theramenes, aimed at restoring their ancestral constitution (ap 34.3). The Diodorean
passage is characterised by sympathy towards Theramenes, since it emphasises his strong
opposition to the Thirty as well as the popular support that he received, and attributes all
responsibilities for the oligarchic coup to Lysander alone. Cf. Bearzot (1979): 195–219. On the
chronology of the installation of the Thirty and on Theramenes’s activity shortly before that
event see Stem (2003): 18–34. See chh. 4 and 7.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, 2016 | doi: 10.1163/9789004325784_012

246 appendix

sane utitur auctor eadem clara et nuda lingua Attica saeculi quarti, sed primi editores
negauerunt idcirco hunc textum e Hellenicis nostris uenisse posse, quia papyrus Michi-
ganensis breue excerptum orationis a Theramene habitae (uersus 12–33) exhiberet, et
in excerptis Hellenicorum quae habuimus ante contio nulla exstaret […]’ (p. xvii).3 In
other words, the author of the Theramenes papyrus wrote according to fourth-century
Attic prose, and despite that the first editors (Youtie-Merkelbach, 1968) excluded the
possibility that it was part of the ho, on the basis of the assumed lack of speeches
in that work. But that in the ho there is no evidence of direct speeches is only par-
tially true, for we do find the brief direct speech delivered by Dorimachus, the leader
of the Rhodian rebellion (15.2, ll. 365–368; 395 bc). Furthermore, if we keep in mind
the limitations of our evidence, the state itself of the ho should perhaps discourage
us from asserting with absolute certainty that the work did not contain any direct
speeches.
Found at Karanis in 1930, the Theramenes papyrus consists of four small fragments
forming a single column and also of an unplaced fragment (here not transcribed).
There is no doubt that these fragments do not come from any partisan pamphlet4
but from a historical work. This can be asserted with confidence because Loftus has
recently discovered, in the photos of Karanis texts stored in the Papyrology Room of the
University of Michigan, a fragment (P. Mich. 5796b) which makes a perfect join with the
left-hand side of that unplaced fragment of the Theramenes papyrus, and which refers
to an unspecified moment of the Corinthian war.5 And since the Corinthian war as
a subject occupies a quite extensive narrative portion of the ho (7.2–5; 16.1–18.5) it is
at least plausible that the Theramenes papyrus is part of that work. Yet it is true that
Loftus, following Breitenbach’s suggestion,6 maintains that the author of the papyrus’
text is the historian Ephorus, and with this hypothesis Hurni has also recently agreed.7
Even though this is not the place to re-examine the issue, nevertheless the criteria
established by Breitenbach might appear too generic to be decisive in giving preference
to one historian rather than another: the papyrus’ text deals with the last phase of the
Peloponnesian war, it would not be a primary source, would show sympathy towards
Theramenes and hostility towards democracy, it uses direct speeches and employs Attic
prose without rhetorical ornaments.8 In addition, a few stylistic affinities between the

3 Chambers (1993).
4 Andrewes (1970): 35–38, Rhodes (1981): 21–22, 359–360, Engels (1993): 125–155.
5 Loftus (2000): 11–20.
6 Breitenbach (1989): 121–135.
7 Hurni (2010): 234–238.
8 According to Breitenbach, the candidates for the authorship of the ho are Theopompus,
Cratippus, and Ephorus. Breitenbach (1989): 128–129. On the authorship of the ho see Bian-
chetti-Cataudella (2001) and ch. 1.
appendix 247

prose of the Theramenes papyrus and the ho would seem to offer some support for
Chambers’ proposal. Terms such as διαπράσσω and ἀπόρρητος (ll. 4 and 5–6) belong
to the ho’s vocabulary,9 while they are not attested in Ephorus’ fragments. The use
of the adverbial attribute between article and its referent, ll. 31–32 τ̣ὰ̣ [π]αρ’ ἐκείνων
[... ...].αντα, seems to recall the analog structure of P. Oxy. v 842, 7.2, τὰ παρ’ ἐκείνου
χρήματα. This evidence along with the frequency of correlations (τοὺς μέν … ἐκεῖν[ον]
δέ, ll. 5, 7–8; οὗτοι μέν … ἐγὼ δ’, ll. 29–30) and participial constructions (φ̣άσκ[ον]τες,
ll. 2–3, παρελθών, l. 11, τῶ[ν | δι]δ̣ομένων, ll. 23–24, ὑ̣π̣ολ̣ α|[β]ώ̣ ν, ll. 33–34, [πο]ιησόμενον,
l. 37) might indeed suggest that both works come from the same author.10
Leaving aside the authorship issue, let us turn now to the text:

1 τοὺς Λακε̣δα̣ι ̣μ̣ ονί[ους ἀν-]

τέλεγον αὐτ̣ῶι φ̣άσκ[ον-]
τες ἁπάντων ἀτοπώ[τα-]
τον αὐτὸν διαπράττεσ[θαι],
5 τοὺς μὲν γὰρ ἄλλους τ[ἀ-]
πόρρητα ποιεῖσθαι πρὸ[ς]
τοὺς πολε̣[μ]ίους,
̣ ἐκεῖν[ον]
δὲ περὶ ὧν τοῖς ἐχθροῖς
ἐρεῖν μέλλει{ν} ταῦτα π[ρὸς]
10 τοὺς πολίτας λέγειν μὴ τολμᾶν̣. ὁ δὲ
πρὸ̣ς ̣ τ̣οῦτο παρελθὼν ε[ἶ-]
πεν̣· [τὸ] πλεῖστον τοῦ δέ-
ον[τος ἁ]μαρτάνουσιν
[οἱ] ῥήτορες. εἰ μὲν γὰρ ἐφ’ ἡ̣ [μῖν]
15 [γε] ἦν, ἔφη, τὴ̣ ν̣ [εἰ]ρ̣ή̣[νην ἐπιτά-]
[ξα] ι ̣, οὐδὲν δ[ι]έφερεν ἂ[ν ὑ-]
[μ]ᾶ̣ς ἀκούειν ἐφ’ οἷς αὐτ̣[ὴν]
[ἡγ]οῦμαι τῆι πόλει ποιή̣ [σα-]
[σ]θ̣αι καλῶς ἔχειν. ἐπε̣ι ̣-
20 [δὴ] δ̣ὲ οἱ πολέμιοι κύριο̣[ι]
[κα]θεστ̣α̣σ͂ ιν̣, [ο]ὐκ ἀσφαλές
[ἐσ]τιν εἰκῇ π̣ ερ̣ ὶ αὐτῆς λέ-
[γε]ι ̣ν. οὐ γὰρ δηλονότι τῶ[ν]
[δι]δ̣ομένων αὐτ̣ο̣ις̣͂ πα-

9 psi xiii 1304, 4.4: διαπραξά]μενοι, P. Oxy. v 842, 15.2 διαπραξά|[μ]ενοι, 18.5 διαπραξά|μενοι,
and P. Oxy. v 842, 6.1 ἐν] | ἀπορ⟨ρ⟩ήτῳ τ[ῇ β]ουλῇ.
10 Cf. Treu (1970): 31, note 46. For the prose of the Oxyrhynchus historian see Bauer (1913):
1–66.
248 appendix

25 [ρ’ ἡ]μ̣ ῶν οὐθὲν̣ ἀ̣ξι̣ ώσου-

[σιν] ἀφαιρεῖν, ἕτερα δὲ πρὸς
[τού]τ̣οι ̣ς ̣ ἐπιτάττειν ἐπι-
[χειρ]ήσουσιν. τὴν οὖν αἵρε-
[σιν] οὗτοι μὲν ἐπ’ ἐκείνοις
30 [θήσ]ουσιν, ἐγὼ δ’ ἐφ’ ὑμῖν.
[...]. υ̣ .[.] γὰρ τ̣ὰ̣ [π]αρ’ ἐκείνων
[......]. αντα ἐν̣ ̣ τ̣ῳ̣̃ βουλεύ-
[σα]σ̣ θ̣α̣ι ̣ περὶ αὐτῶν.’ ὑ̣π̣ολ̣ α-
[β]ὼ̣ ν δὲ ὀρθῶς λέγειν αὐ-
35 [τὸ]ν ὁ δῆμος πρεσβευτὴν
[αὐ]τοκράτορα τὴν εἰρήνην
[πο]ιησόμενον ἀπέστει-
[λε]ν̣. Θηραμένης δὲ παραυ-
[τίκ]α̣ μ̣ εν̣̀ ̣ ὡς ᾑρέθη πρὸς
40 [Λύσ]ανδρ[ο]ν ἔπλευσεν εἰς
[Σά]μ̣ ον κ̣ α̣ι ̣̀ πρὸς ἐκεῖνον
[ἐπ]ε̣χ̣εί̣ ρει πράττειν τὰ
[περ]ὶ τῆς εἰρήνης. ἐπειδὴ
[δὲ] Λύσανδρος αὐτὸν ἐκ̣ ε-̣́
45 ̣ 11
[λευ]εν Λακ̣ εδ̣ ̣α̣ι ̣μ̣ [ο]νίο[ις

‘… to the Spartans; [they] criticised him saying that he was behaving in the most
extraordinary way, for while other people were acting in secret against the enemy,
he for his part was not taking the risk of revealing to his fellow citizens what he
was going to say to the enemies about the peace. And in response to that he came
forward and said: ‘the speakers thus far are very far from saying what they ought
to say. In fact’—he said—‘if it had been in our own power to impose the peace
plan, I believe that it would have not made any difference whether you heard
what I think is in the city’s interest to do. But because the enemies are the masters
of the matter, it is not safe to speak randomly about the peace. Clearly they will
not think it right to subtract anything of what we are offering to them; on the
contrary they will try to impose further conditions in addition to those previously
offered. Those speakers give to the Spartans control of the decision, I for myself

11 I follow the edition of Youtie-Merkelbach (1968): 161–169. The iota in the papyrus’ text is
either adscript (ll. 12, 18) or subscript (l. 39), but when it cannot be read in the papyrus the
editors subscribe it (l. 22, 32). As regards the form οὐθὲν̣ (l. 25) it cannot be said whether
it belongs to the original work or if it comes from the later process of transcription. See
Engels (1993): 127, note 6.
appendix 249

give that to you.’ [missing letters]. The Athenian demos judged that he had spoken
appropriately and sent him as ambassador with full power (autokrator) to make
the peace. And Theramenes soon after he was appointed went on a journey to
Samos to meet Lysander. With him he began to negotiate concerning the peace.
Because Lysander ordered him to … to the Spartans …’12

The Theramenes papyrus shows clear points of contact with some chapters of Lysias’
speech Against Eratosthenes ([12] 69–70), and this similarity has been read by scholars
in opposite ways. On the one hand it has been maintained that the author of the
papyrus knew that discourse;13 on the other, Bearzot has suggested that Lysias is
replying to the arguments found in the papyrus. This latter suggestion is difficult,
since the papyrus’ text, if it comes from the ho (whose author Bearzot identifies with
Cratippus),14 is clearly later than that speech (written about 404–401bc). Therefore,
the scholar has conjectured the existence of a common source to the two works, that
is, the self-defence delivered by Eratosthenes.15
It is necessary to re-consider carefully the content of the Theramenes papyrus, in
order to explore and clarify its relation with Lysias’ speech. This is difficult first of all
because it is not clear which peace agreement the papyrus’ text refers to. Secondly
the lacuna at lines 31–32 is a considerable loss for our understanding of Theramenes’
ultimate conduct, and it requires further explanation, since the supplements so far
proposed seem unsatisfactory.
Lysias’ words show almost verbatim similarities with the first ten lines of the papy-
rus:

ὑπέσχετο δὲ εἰρήνην ποιήσειν μήτε ὅμηρα δοὺς μήτε τὰ τείχη καθελὼν μήτε τὰς
ναῦς παραδούς· ταῦτα δὲ εἰπεῖν μὲν οὐδενὶ ἠθέλησεν,16 ἐκέλευσε δὲ αὑτῷ πιστεύειν.
ὑμεῖς δέ, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, πραττούσης μὲν τῆς ἐν Ἀρείῳ πάγῳ βουλῆς σωτήρια,17
ἀντιλεγόντων δὲ πολλῶν Θηραμένει, εἰδότες δὲ ὅτι οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι ἄνθρωποι τῶν πολεμίων
ἕνεκα τἀπόρρητα ποιοῦνται, ἐκεῖνος δ’ ἐν τοῖς αὑτοῦ πολίταις οὐκ ἠθέλησεν εἰπεῖν ταῦθ’
ἃ πρὸς τοὺς πολεμίους ἔμελλεν ἐρεῖν18

12 The translation is mine, with the contribution of Pelling.

13 Andrewes (1970): 36–37, Treu (1970): 19, Lehmann (1972 b): 205–206, Harding (1974): 108.
Cf. Lys. [12] 62–78 and [13] 9–17; Rhodes (1981): 359.
14 Bearzot (1991): 65–87, 80–82; cf. (2001): 9–32.
15 Bearzot (1991): 65–87. Bearzot tends to minimise the divergences between the papyrus
and Lysias’ speech. Lastly, Hurni (2010): 233.
16 The ταῦτα here refers to the expression of 12.68, πρᾶγμα […] μέγα καὶ πολλοῦ ἄξιον.
17 Cf. ch. 68: [Theramenes] ἐπαγγειλάμενος σώσειν τὴν πόλιν αὐτὸς ἀπώλεσε.
18 Ed. Oxford 2007.
250 appendix

He promised to make the peace without either giving hostages, or tearing down
walls, or delivering up ships. He refused to reveal to anyone his plan, but bade
all trust him. On the contrary, in the council of the Areopagus, it was indeed
you, Athenians, who were acting for safety. Moreover, many people spoke in
opposition to Theramenes. You realised that while other people were acting in
secret because of the enemy, he did not want to reveal to his own fellow-citizens
what he was going to say to the enemies.
lysias 12.69

In comparison with Lysias’ text the papyrus is commonly judged as a justification of

Theramenes’ behaviour given by its author.19 Strictly, all we can say is that the author
is here allowing Theramenes to justify himself through his own words; in the absence
of the full context we cannot be sure that they received explicit authorial approval.
What we can see, however, is that the papyrus at least phrases the argument in a way
that carries some force, and we should be unsurprised that the internal audience—the
Athenian assembly—found it persuasive.
The papyrus, relating the content of the speeches that were delivered by those who
charged Theramenes with unwillingness to speak, focuses on the cautious behaviour
of Theramenes. That accusation of a failure to speak frankly is moulded in the papyrus
in a less harsh way than it is in Lysias’ text. The verb τολμάω (l. 10) suggests in fact that
Theramenes ‘was not taking the risk of saying …’ Lysias’ version at chapter 69 is the
starker ‘he did not want to say …’ (something like ‘because he was responsible for …’
is thus implied). Theramenes’ own speech gives his self-defence which he conducts in
terms of pure realism and which the internal audience accept, believing at the end that
he had spoken appropriately (ὀρθῶς, l. 34). He appears as a pragmatic statesman, who
acts according to practical considerations. He would not promise to make peace with-
out concessions (walls, fleet, harbours), as in contrast is strongly emphasised by Lysias
(69). Theramenes would act, instead, pragmatically, all the more so if our suggestion
captures the whole meaning of his arguments. But before giving our proposal let us
discuss the previous supplements.
Lines 31–32 of the papyrus have been supplemented by the first editors as fol-
lows: [ἔπλ]ε̣υσ̣ ε̣ γὰρ τὰ̣ [π]αρ’ ἐκείνων | [ἀπαντή]σαντα ἐν̣ ̣ τ̣ῳ̣̃ βουλεύ|[σα]σ̣ θ̣α̣ι ̣ περὶ αὐτῶν,
‘denn die Vorschläge, welche von ihnen (den anderen Rednern) kommen, werden zu
Schiff (dem Gegner) überbracht, noch während wir darüber beraten.’20 That would
hint at the possibility that even while the Athenians had been still talking, the con-
tent of the debate was being reported to the enemy—which would reaffirm, more-

19 Rhodes (1981): 21–22, Engels (1993): 128.

20 Youtie-Merkelbach (1968): 169.
appendix 251

over, that climate of suspicion that Theramenes denounces. But the supplement makes
the Greek difficult to read (think of the very unusual [ἀπαντή]σαντα), and, more-
over, the continuation of the metaphor, according to which those proposals/ideas
that ‘met’ the assembly now ‘took ship,’ is very odd. The verb πλέω itself used in a
metaphorical sense would come at odd with the plain style of the author, especially
if we think that the same verb is found later again at line 40, where it is used in its
proper meaning.21 The editors discuss also a further supplement for the missing let-
ters: [δείκ]ν̣υτ̣[α]ι ̣ γὰρ τῶ̣ [ι π]αρ’ ἐκείνων | [σκοπῶι] π̣ άντα κτλ. But they admit that there
is not sufficient space for [δείκ]ν̣υτ̣[α]ι ̣. Moreover, as has been observed, the traces of
the assumed letter omega of τῶ̣ [ι in the papyrus seem to suggest rather the shape of an
alpha.22
After Youtie-Merkelbach’s edition further proposals have been suggested by Luppe,
Breitenbach, and Vannini, but all of them seem unconvincing. Luppe proposes:
[φαν]ο̣ῦσ̣ [ι] γὰρ τῆ̣ [ι π]αρ’ ἐκείνων | [?σκοπῆι?] π̣ άντα ἐν τῷ βουλεύ|[σα]σθαι περὶ αὐτῶν.23
The translation would be: ‘denn sie werden (würden) der spartanischen Spionage alles
deutlich machen indem sie darüber in der Volksversammlung beraten.’ According to
the scholar, Theramenes would report to the Spartans the charge τ[ἀ]πόρρητα ποιεῖσθαι
πρὸ[ς] | τοὺς πολε̣[μ]ίους ̣ (ll. 5–7) that his own fellow citizens had moved against him.
But the ῆ̣ of τῆ̣ [ι does not fit the traces of ink found in the papyrus.
Breitenbach’s supplement hardly makes good sense within that context: ἀκού]ο̣υ̣σ̣[ι]
γὰρ τ̣ὰ̣ [π]αρ’ ἐκείνων | [ῥηθέντα] π̣ άντα ἐν̣ ̣ τ̣ῳ̣̃ βουλεύ|[σα]σ̣ θ̣α̣ι ̣ περὶ αὐτῶν, ‘denn sie (scil.
the democrats) hören alles, was von jenen gesagt wird, noch während den Beratungen.’
Moreover, the supplement, ἀκού]ο̣υ̣σ̣[ι] and [ῥηθέντα], exceeds the needed spaces,
and the scholar’s explanation is unsatisfactory: the handwriting of the left part of
the column is curved and this could allow more spaces than those counted by the
editors.24 This particular shape of the papyrus seems, in fact, to depend on its state
of conservation rather than on the handwriting.
The last proposal comes from Lucia Vannini: κελ]ε̣ύω̣ γὰρ τ̣ὰ̣ [π]α̣ρ’ ἐκείνων
[εἰ|δότ]α̣[ς] π̣ αντα ο̣ὕ̣τω̣ βουλεύ|[σα]σ̣ θ̣α̣ι ̣ περὶ αὐτῶν, ‘vi esorto ad apprendere tutte le
loro proposte (scil., degli Spartani) e, solo allora, a decidere riguardo ad esse.’25 As
regards the meaning, the supplement appears as shifting to an issue that presumably
was not in question here. For the main point of the papyrus fragment is what the Athe-
nians are prepared to offer, what Theramenes is going to say to the Spartans, and not

21 Vannini (2012): 93.

22 Vannini (2012): 94.
23 Luppe (1978): 14–16. The scholar himself is not wholly convinced, and discusses also the
possibility of τοῖς σκοποῖς, even though he admits that it is too long.
24 Breitenbach (1989): 123, note 4.
25 Vannini (2012): 94.
252 appendix

what Theramenes is going to report to the Athenians about assumed offers coming
from the Spartan side.
Reading Vannini’s proposal, I find very interesting that, unlike the previous supple-
ments, it suggests that the sentence at lines 31–32 shows Theramenes’ own words. And
in consideration of the fact that the sentence at lines 33–35 clearly refers to what The-
ramenes has just said, ὑ̣π̣ολ̣ α|[β]ὼ̣ ν δὲ ὀρθῶς λέγειν αὐ|[τὸ]ν ὁ δῆμος, ‘the Athenian demos
judged that he had spoken appropriately,’ I would suggest a further supplement refer-
ring once again to Theramenes’ own argumentation:

[ἀλλ’ ο]ὐ̣[δὲ] γὰρ26 τ̣ὰ̣ [π]αρ’ ἐκείνων

[εἶπoν27 ἅ]π̣ αντα ἐν̣ ̣ τ̣ῳ̣̃ βουλεύ-
[σα]σ̣ θ̣α̣ι ̣ περὶ αὐτῶν

The sense of Theramenes’ last words would be the following:

Nor indeed did they [my opponents] say everything which was coming from their
side either [so they should not expect me to say publicly everything which we might
have to offer] in the process of deliberation about the questions.28

It would be a more general consideration on how diplomacy works: that is, both sides
should not put all their cards on the table to begin with. That strengthens and gives
reason for Theramenes’ previous exhortation to his audience not to speak frankly
about everything that they would be prepared to concede: since the enemies, if they
knew this, would take that as their starting-point and demand more (ll. 23–28). This
presumably refers to what is called ‘the bottom line:’ each part goes into a negotiation
with a preliminary offer, but both of them mentally reserve a further line that they
would be prepared to go up to, so that their concessions at the end might go beyond

26 The expression [ἀλλ’ ο]ὐ[δὲ] γάρ finds parallels in a part of the manuscript tradition (a,
m, h) of Lucian, De parasito 1 line 25, in the Scholium ad Hom. Od. 8.364, line 2 (ed.
Dindorf), and in later authors. Furthermore, there are a few examples of the use of ἀλλ’
οὐ γάρ (the general pattern is ἀλλά … γάρ) which mark the move to a vital, primary or
decisive point within a phrase (Hom. Od. 10.202; Bacchyl. 5.162; Hdt. 8.8.1; 9.27.4; Plat. Prot.
336 a). Sometimes ἀλλά … γάρ adds something new and important (progressive meaning).
Cf. Denniston (1954): 101 f. and 105 ff. In our case the particle δέ might have been added to
the negation οὐ to give emphasis to the sentence in question.
27 I am very grateful to Prof. Olli Salomies for suggesting to me the plural form of the verb. In a
previous version I had thought of the singular, as referring to Theramenes’ ideal opponent.
But the supplement now restored makes the Greek definitely intuitive and clear.
28 Translation by Pelling, slightly modified.
appendix 253

what they had been willing to offer in the earlier negotiations.29 Then, Theramenes’
statement, οὐ γὰρ δηλονότι τῶ[ν | δι]δ̣ομένων αὐτ̣ο̣ις̣͂ πα|[ρ’ ἡ]μ̣ ῶν οὐθὲν̣ ἀ̣ξι̣ ώσου|[σιν]
ἀφαιρεῖν, ἕτερα δὲ πρὸς |[τού]τ̣οι ̣ς ̣ ἐπιτάττειν ἐπι|[χειρ]ήσουσιν (ll. 23–28), makes good
sense if fitted into this reading. That is, the Athenians would have to be prepared to
make further concessions beyond their preliminary offer if the Spartans insisted. But
it would be wise to leave the content of that bottom line unsaid at this stage; in fact,
in Theramenes’ view, the Spartans would find it out if it were made public within
Athens herself and would then take that, rather than the terms of the preliminary
offer, as their starting-point. This reading also explains well why as a result of that
speech Theramenes was sent to Lysander as [αὐ]τοκράτορα (l. 36), that is to say, with
the plenipotentiary authority to go beyond anything that has been publicly agreed in
that assembly.
From Xenophon’s narrative we can deduce the historical background of the peace
talks at which the papyrus hints. After the defeat of 404bc Athenian ambassadors
went to discuss the peace with king Agis, who was in Attica, but he sent them to
Sparta, for he was not the kyrios of the peace (Hell. 2.2.12–13). After the failure of those
talks at Sparta, an assembly was called at Athens (the first), and Archestratus was
imprisoned because he had spoken within the Spartan council in favour of the peace;
moreover, he, along with his colleagues, presumably had conceded that a portion ten
stadia long of each of the Long Walls should be torn down (Hell. 2.2.14–15). Therefore,
the Athenian assembly through decree forbade for the future anyone to deliberate on
that matter. Here Xenophon inserts Theramenes’ intervention and his request to be
sent to Lysander, but gives a different motivation from that found in the papyrus’ text:
he would find out whether the Spartans insisted on the matter of the walls because
they wished to reduce the city to slavery, or to obtain a guarantee of a good faith. It is
highly problable that the speech of Theramenes contained in the papyrus was indeed
delivered on the occasion of this first assembly (Hell. 2.2.14–15). The decisive clue comes
from the papyrus, where it is said that Lysander ordered Theramenes to go to Sparta
(ll. 44–45). And we know from Xenophon that, after Theramenes spoke, he was sent to
Lysander (2.2.16). In the course of a new assembly (the second) taking place at Athens,
Theramenes related to the Athenians the outcome of his talks with Lysander: the latter
had ordered him to go to Sparta for he was not the kyrios of the peace, and the masters
of the matter were the ephors (κυρίους εἶναι εἰρήνης καὶ πολέμου, 2.2.18). Therefore,
as a result of this second assembly Theramenes was sent to Sparta as ambassador
autokrator within a legation of ten men (αὐτοκράτωρ δέκατος αὐτός, Hell. 2.2.16–18).30

29 This is a valuable suggestion of Pelling.

30 Youtie-Merkelbach (1968): 169. The decisive assembly for making peace is only the third
(Xen. Hell. 2.2.21; cf. Lys. [13] 17).
254 appendix

In consideration of the arguments given by Theramenes in the papyrus, the totality

of what the Athenians might be prepared to concede could not be identical with what
had already been offered in the past, because they were already known by everyone,
enemy included. From Xenophon’s evidence it is possible to infer that the Athenians
(in the course of the first assembly) should be prepared to give to the enemy more than
ten stadia of Long Walls. Or at least they should be aware of that possibility, in spite
of the decree itself that prohibited anyone from dealing with that matter. If that is in
the air, that is sufficient reason for the strong reaction of the assembly as well as for
the resultant decree. Thus, Theramenes could not have promised at all to make peace
without any further concessions (walls, fleet, harbours)—contrarily to what Lysias
maintains (69)—because that would no longer be a realistic possibility.
Since, according to Lysias and the papyrus, Theramenes was elected as autokrator
for his first voyage, that to Lysander, it has been assumed that both texts have con-
flated the two Xenophontic assemblies, describing the content of the first (the voyage
to Samos), while giving the results of the second (the election as ambassador autokra-
tor).31 Nevertheless, such a conjecture may not be necessary, nor perhaps should the
historical truth of that appointment be denied. For Theramenes might have been
elected autokrator already for the first voyage, even though there is no mention of that
in Xenophon’s text. After all he had carte blanche in the dealings with Lysander. Also
the papyrus, like Xenophon (referring to the second voyage), might imply that The-
ramenes was sent with full powers within a body of ten ambassadors, but because of
the concise character of the text, the whole legation is not mentioned here.32
Xenophon’s insistence on the fact that the Spartan ephors only had authority over
questions of peace (cf. also Agis’ reply to the Athenian ambassadors) adds, moreover, a
further accent of realism to Theramenes’ arguments as contained in the papyrus, where
the speaker stresses that the masters (kyrioi) of the peace were indeed the Spartans and
not the Athenians (ll. 14–23).
Though Xenophon for his part suspects Theramenes of misconduct for his pre-
sumed connivance with Lysander (Hell. 2.2.16), nevertheless it is Lysias’ charges to
which the speaker of the papyrus is replying here, in particular the charge that ἐκεῖ-

31 Bearzot (1997): 192.

32 Ambassadors plenipotentiary had not, however, free authority to accept terms of which
there had been no previous consideration, that is they did not give oaths without refer-
ring home, nor were they freed from the normal processes of the law and constitution,
since they might be put on capital charge. When Theramenes himself and his colleagues
reported back from their plenipotentiary appointment (the second voyage, according to
Xenophon), it was only after a lively opposition in open debate that the Athenian assembly
ratified the proposals which its delegates had put forward (Hell. 2.2.22). Cf. Mosley (1973),
30–38 and 68–73.
appendix 255

νος δ’ ἐν τοῖς αὑτοῦ πολίταις οὐκ ἠθέλησεν εἰπεῖν ταῦθ’ ἃ πρὸς τοὺς πολεμίους ἔμελλεν ἐρεῖν
(69). According to the papyrus, he did indeed speak, but without disclosing every-
thing.
The image of Theramenes, as has emerged thus far, does not seem to come simply
from any defence of the politician written by a Theramenian pamphletist. The papyrus
shows, in fact, the statesman in action, pursuing his political line with coherent realism.
How far that could also mean connivance with the other side remains open to doubt:
Xenophon may give us some reason to suspect it. It remains tempting to assume
that the Oxyrhynchus historian was at the start-point of that process of revision of
Theramenes’ image which would lead later to those ‘democratic’ developments that we
can still find in Diodorus;33 but, on the other hand, we do not have sufficient elements
to affirm that the historian accepted the arguments delivered by Theramenes. The fact
that the papyrus’ text focuses on the cautious conduct of Theramenes (cf. μὴ τολμᾶν̣
contrasted with οὐκ ἠθέλησεν of Lysias) to some extent might encourage a reading of
that sort, but if so it also would imply that the focalisation through Theramenes’ speech
coincides with the authorial intention. Whatever that intention was, that realistic tone
of Theramenes’ speech does carry a ring of historical plausibility: this indeed is how
diplomacy works. So Theramenes’ ‘realism’ may well allow us to catch the political
‘reality’ of what was going on at the time when the speech was delivered.

2 History, Oratory and Their Audiences

From the discussion made in chapter 7 one would suggest that fourth-century histo-
rians were influenced by orators with whom they shared themes and ideas. It is also
possible that both historians and orators shared audiences and had similar ways of
divulgating their works as well. It is highly verisimilar that their works were performed
rather than just written: in the process of writing, historians might have given brief sam-
ples of their own production through oral performances, made within small groups of
students or intellectuals.
The last part of Isocrates’ Panathenaicus is very helpful to our investigation (199–
272), being perhaps the best evidence of the process of publishing and editing works
in ancient times. Isocrates shows the ways he used to divulgate that speech; to some
degree this is a narrative device;34 it offers, however, useful evidence to understand
how a work might be published in the fourth century. It has been suggested that the

33 See above ch. 4.4.

34 Gray (1994 a): 242–256. Perplexities have been raised about the presence of ‘authorial
intent’ in ancient writers; especially the last part of the Panathenaicus has been read as
a sample of the so-called ‘reader-reception’ theory. So Kennedy (1989): 492–497.
256 appendix

pupils themselves of Isocrates made copies for their master, getting thereby a good
opportunity to familiarise themselves with his ideas and style.35 It is pretty clear that
historians were part of Isocrates’ audience: Theopompus and Ephorus, for instance,
are defined by the Suda as Isocratous acoustes, that is ‘auditors of Isocrates,’ though it
is controversial whether or not they both were proper disciples of the orator.36
The main theme arising from the last part of the Panathenaicus is Isocrates’ criticism
of Sparta. By means of an acute metaliterary device the orator says that he had read
the speech in question to some of his current pupils; on that occasion he had also
consulted a Spartan sympathiser who was an ex-pupil of his, and this had gave way
to a sequence of reactions to that speech; finally his criticism of Sparta had been
judgded as untrustworthy. However, in the end Isocrates had won over the Spartan
sympathiser’s arguments. Nonetheless later—continues the orator—he decided to re-
shape his former speech, and to perform it again, in front of a different audience; he
invited his ex-disciples who had been living in the city at that time, including the same
panegyrist of the Spartans. In this second meeting the Spartan sympathiser points
out that Isocrates has written about Sparta in a way that could now be read even as
covert praise of that city—it would depend on readers’ understanding and response—
and invites the ex-master to make his intentions more patent and intelligible (245–
248).
It has been suggested that the metaliterary device of the internal audience is a con-
ventional one, which occurs also in other speeches of Isocrates, such as To Nicocles and
To Philip. In the case of the Panathenaicus this device would be aimed to prepare the
external audience to the acceptance of that criticism of Sparta; that is, the presence of
the sympathiser would be a sort of negative paradigm reaffirming Isocrates’ authority.37
This is not the place to re-examine Isocrates’ view about Sparta, though the ambigu-
ity of the text might, perhaps, make it accommodate more than just one reading. But
because we are concerned with historians’ and orators’ audiences, let us turn to that
point.
That Isocrates’ speeches were read in public should be unhesitatingly accepted.
Even if words like ἀκροαταί and οἱ ἀκούοντες could be used in Isocrates’ times to mean
‘readers,’ the expression οἱ παρόντες certainly hints at Isocrates’ audience.38 Isocrates
himself does not conceal that some speeches were written to be read privately while
others were performed, and that there was a great difference in persuasiveness between
spoken and read discourses, to the advantage of the former.39 He uses three verbs

35 The author in person supervised the circulation of his works. Turner (1952): 19, note 4.
36 Theop. FGrHist 115, t 1. Flower (1994): 42 ff.
37 Gray (1994 a): 238–249.
38 Isocr. [12] 6. Cf. Hudson-Williams (1949): 65–69.
39 Cf. Isocr. [5] 1 and 25–26, [15] 1 and 12.
appendix 257

in connection with the notion of ‘publication’ of his works, διαδίδωμι, ἐκδίδωμι, and
ἐκφέρω. But the idea itself of publication was a quite indeterminate concept, which
hinted at every way to make a work known. The notion of making a work public
implies a first stage in which a speech/content was read aloud to an audience;40 it
was followed by a second step, when drafts were distributed among those who desired
to have the work (διαδοτέος τοῖς βουλομένοις λαμβάνειν).41 Furthermore, the narrative
device of the last part of the Panathenaicus suggests that several meetings took place,
which involved small groups of close collaborators and supporters, before the final
drafts were divulgated. These copies could be taken and read even out of the city where
the speech/content had been delivered, if drafts of Isocrates’ Panathenaicus were read
at Sparta too.42
The idea that also historical works in the fourth century might have been performed,
at least initially, to restricted audiences is highly tempting, since historians and orators
shared themes and probably also audiences (think of the cases of Theopompus and
Ephorus). True, we have no evidence about the ways in which historical works were
edited, and we can only speculate about them. As regards Xenophons’ Anabasis, for
example, Tsagalis has recently assumed that the historian wrote a work on the expe-
dition of Cyrus till the arrival of the Ten Thousand to the Black Sea, that is book 4 of
the Anabasis; after that he started the Hellenica. Here, in book 3, he hid his identity
saying that the author of the Anabasis was a certain Themistogenes of Syracuse.43 But
after the publication of the Anabasis by Sophaenetus—one of Xenophon’s comrades
in arms at the time of Cyrus’ expedition—Xenophon felt competitive with Sophaene-
tus; therefore he decided to publish the Anabasis and came back to his previous draft
to complete it. Of course, suggestions such as this invite caution, because they are par-
tially related to the analytical approach in studying ancient historical works, and rely
too much upon internal evidence which arises from a work or more works written by
the same author.44 That sort of approach has, however, the undoubted merit of imply-

40 Isocr. [12] 4. ἀναγιγνώσκω, ἐπιδείκνυμι, and δείκνυμι are used with the meaning of a speech
that is read aloud to an audience and there is no perceptible difference in meaning; they
refer to readings of works that Isocrates envisages as taking place. Hudson-Williams (1949):
67.
41 Isocr. [12] 233. Cf. 246 and 247.
42 Isocr. [12] 233, 262, 247, 250 ff.
43 Xen. Hell. 3.1.2.
44 Tsagalis (2009): 451–454. Cf. also Pelling (2013 a): 40, note 1, who maintains that the
Xenophontic reference to Themistogenes’ work in the Hellenica (ὡς μὲν οὖν Κῦρος στρά-
τευμά τε συνέλεξε καὶ τοῦτ’ ἔχων ἀνέβη ἐπὶ τὸν ἀδελφόν, καὶ ὡς ἡ μάχη ἐγένετο, καὶ ὡς ἀπέθανε,
καὶ ὡς ἐκ τούτου ἀπεσώθησαν οἱ Ἕλληνες ἐπὶ θάλατταν, Θεμιστογένει τῷ Συρακοσίῳ γέγραπται,
3.1.2) refers to the whole Anabasis rather than to the first four books only.
258 appendix

ing that the process of completing drafts and making finished works circulate required
several steps; the notion of ‘publishing’ suggests a long process in which a work initially
appeared far from that completion and shape that posterity know for it.
A further interesting suggestion comes from the proem of Duris’ Histories, where a
polemical statement against Theopompus and Ephorus is found. According to Duris,
both historians did not care about the mimesis and pleasure that usually arise from
delivered speeches; therefore, they focused only on their practice of writing and on
rhetorical techniques that suited such written works (ὄυτε γὰρ μιμήσεως μετέλαβον οὐδε-
μιᾶς ὄυτε ἡδονῆς ἐν τῷ φράσαι, αὐτοῦ δὲ τοῦ γράφειν μόνον ἐπεμελήθησαν).45 These stylistic
observations are expression of a broader debate concerning the different effects pro-
voked on audiences by the practice of speaking and that of writing, τὸ φράσαι and
τὸ γράφειν; this debate took place among both historians and orators, if Isocrates too
discusses this issue.46 Duris criticises Theopompus and Ephorus for having produced
texts that were very elaborate from a formal point of view, but they failed in arous-
ing emotions, unlike those works that, instead, were conceived and written for public
performances. Duris’ statements can imply that his own work was written in conform-
ity with the criteria required by a mimetic performance and, therefore, could perhaps
accommodate public readings as well. Duris’ polemical statements foreshadow a sim-
ilar reproach made against Thucydides by the rhetorician Dionysius, who emphasises
the unsuitability of Thucydides’ Histories to public readings because of an unpopular
and archaic style. The work appears to Dionysius as shaped in a way which makes dif-
ficult a full understanding of the main narrative thread (i.e. when someone reads the
text), and makes listeners annoyed (i.e. in public recitations).47 According to Diony-
sius, this is mainly due to the fact that Thucydides used deliberative speeches and other
rhetorical tools within his narrative to show themes of political debate. Dionysius main-
tains that it was Cratippus who first realised these limits of Thucydides’ narrative (οὐδὲ
τὴν ἐλαχίστην ἔμφασιν ἔχοντα τῆς δεινότητος ἐκείνης, μάλιστα δ’ ἐν ταῖς δημηγορίαις καὶ
ἐν τοῖς διαλόγοις καὶ ἐν ταῖς ἄλλαις ῥητορείαις); therefore, the historian did not use any
kind of distracting elements in his work (οὐ μόνον ταῖς πράξεσιν αὐτὰς ἐμποδὼν γεγενῆ-
σθαι λέγων, ἀλλὰ καὶ τοῖς ἀκούουσιν ὀχληρὰς εἶναι). This may well imply that Cratippus
and other fourth-century historians conceived their works as samples of writing to be
read aloud in front of an audience, other than works to be destined to individual read-
ings.48

45 Duris FGrHist 76, f 1 = Phot. Bibl. 176 p. 121 a 41. Cf. Gentili-Cerri (1975): 27ff., Pédech (1989):
257–389, Landucci Gattinoni (1997): 51–55, Ottone (2015): 209–242. See also Pownall (2013):
43–56.
46 Isocr. [12] 10–11.
47 Dion. Hal. De comp. verb. 22 = ii 108, 5–12 u.r.
48 Dion. Hal. De Thuc. 16 = FGrHist 64, f 1. On the controversial issue whether or not
appendix 259

It seems that the literary criticism found in Duris and Dionysius concerns, among
other things, also the issue of what works were more or less suitable for performances,
and, because there is no reference in both authors to any kind of external audience,
that criticism does not necessarily entail that the works in question (by Theopom-
pus, Ephorus, or even Thucydides) had not been effectively performed. Canfora main-
tained that Thucydides’ narrative itself suggests that the historian did not exclude the
possibility that parts of his work were recited: καὶ ἐς μὲν ἀκρόασιν ἴσως τὸ μὴ μυθῶδες
αὐτῶν ἀτερπέστερον φανεῖται (he does not say φανείην ἄν or similar, for example) and
κτῆμά τε ἐς αἰεὶ μᾶλλον ἢ ἀγώνισμα ἐς τὸ παραχρῆμα ἀκούειν ξύγκειται (1.22.4).49 In fact,
in cases of multiple motivations in the text, μᾶλλον does not exclude one or more of
them, simply establishes which aspect is the most important; thus, akroasis was the
principal destination for historical works in Thucydides’ times, but not the only one.
However, one should also raise the question whether akroasis per se means oral perfor-
mance. The term is used in ancient Greek pedagogy to identify the process of learning
through listening, as opposed to seeing (aisthesis); more specifically within the ped-
agogy of rhetoric, akroasis was an exercise in which students listened to an oration
with an ear toward memorising it and absorbing its structure.50 But personal read-
ing is not excluded either. Momigliano was skeptical about the possibility that fifth-
and fourth-century histories were performed. He noticed that much more information
about public readings of historical works comes from the Hellenistic and Roman peri-
ods than from the fifth and the fourth centuries. For example, reading aloud a book,
either in the writer’s lifetime, or after his death, was a way of honouring a historian
in the Hellenistic period. The Suda under the name of Dicaearchus relates that the
Spartans were so pleased with Dicaearchus’s description of Spartan constitution (third
century bc) that they read it in public once a year.51 The scholar offered, therefore, a
cautious conclusion: ‘we simply do not know whether Thucydides, Xenophon and, for
that matter the other eminent historians of the fourth century bc (Ephorus, Theopom-
pus) ever read their works in front of an audience’ (p. 368). And he fairly felt perplexity
about the numerous stories told of Herodotus’ presumed lectures.52 Nonetheless, it

Cratippus avoided inserting speeches in his narrative see Bleckmann (1998): 262–264.
The scholar suggests that Cratippus did not exclude speeches at all, but he used them
as historiographical tools better and differently than Thucydides did.
49 Canfora (1971): 657. See Gomme (1972): 139, Hornblower (1991): 61–62.
50 Cf. Kayser (1946) and Grünter (2001).
51 Momigliano (1980): 365 ff.
52 Lucian speaks of successful lectures given by Herodotus at Olympia. Listeners were so
pleased that they gave the names of the nine muses to Herodotus’ nine books (Herod.
1). Marcellinus (Vit. Thuc. 54) reflects a widespread tradition on Herodotean readings at
Athens (cf. Phot. Bibl. 60 and Suda s.v. Thucydides). Dio Chrysostom says that Herodotus
260 appendix

would be quite odd that in a society such as the Greek, where at least in the archaic
and classical periods performances were morally uplifting, spoken words were as much
important as action, and speaking was felt as a form of action, drafts of historical works
were not envisaged as something to be read aloud. It would be a sort of paradox if this
practice, which is attested with certainty from the Hellenistic period onwards, had not
been alive already before. Momigliano himself suggested, moreover, that Herodotus
had in mind Athenian audiences when he wrote the passage on matriarchy (1.173:
‘if a free woman marries a man who is slave, their children are full citizens, but if
a free man marries a foreign woman, or lives with a concubine, even though he be
the first citizen in the state, the children forfeit all the rights of citizenship’), and
assumed that only an Athenian listener could remember that the son whom Pericles
had with Aspasia, a foreign concubine, was illegitimate (p. 367). And further internal
evidence can support the idea that the historian indeed had read parts of his Histo-
ries in front of audiences. Before referring to the constitutional debate that took place
in the Persian court in the period preceding the rise of Darius, Herodotus says that
to some Greeks it appeared incredible that such a debate had taken place, but—he
stresses—it indeed happened (ἐλέχθησαν λόγοι ἄπιστοι μὲν ἐνίοισι Ἑλλήνων, ἐλέχθησαν
δ’ ὦν, 3.80.1). The passage seems to hint at discussions that originated after public
readings from his work,53 not least because later Herodotus recalls again those reac-
tions which some Greeks (i.e. those in his audience?) had shown towards his account:
μέγιστον θῶμα ἐρέω τοῖσι μὴ ἀποδεκομένοισι Ἑλλήνων Περσέων τοῖσι ἑπτὰ Ὀτάνεα γνώμην
ἀποδέξασθαι ὡς χρεὸν εἴη δημοκρατέεσθαι Πέρσας (6.43.3).54 Furthermore, the assumed
parody of Herodotus’ Histories made by Aristophanes (Ach. 524–529), would lead us
to think of audiences that had been used to attending public recitations of it, and that
could, therefore, understand Aristophanes’ allusions.55 In addition, there is a passage of
Herodotus’ narrative which shows two alternative comparisons of the same geograph-
ical feature (the boundaries of Scythia) first to one which is in mainland Greece (the
boundaries of Attica) and then to an equivalent in southern Italy (Calabria). It looks as
if the historian is making a text appropriate for delivery, either in Athens or in Thurii
(4.99.4–5).56

wanted money from Corinth (Or. 37, 103), and Plutarch maintains that Herodotus asked for
money from Thebes when he lectured there; because he did not get it he became hostile
to the Boeotians (De Herod. mal. 31).
53 Cf. Jacoby (1903): 242.
54 So Jacoby (1903): 353, followed by Canfora (1971): 569. Cf. Hdt. 3.80.1.
55 So Canfora (1971): 658–660. Cf. Pelling (2000): 141–163 for skepticism about whether Aris-
tophanes’ Acharnians is alluding to Herodotus.
56 The possibility that different kinds of performances of literary works were put on accord-
ing to different audiences is indeed highly plausible. Some years ago West (1984): 127–151
appendix 261

3 Diodorus and Rome

Chapter 4 of this book has discussed Diodorus’ approach to Athenian history of the
late fifth century. The tone of Diodorus 14.4, centred on the harsh behaviour of the
Thirty, seems to offer a moral lesson which is fully in accordance with the author’s
preface to the fourteenth book (14.1).57 In intorducing the theme of the installation of
the Thirty at Athens, the historian says that disaffection by peoples subjected to harsh
rulers is a fate that is going to happen to Athens and then also to Sparta and Syracuse
(14.2.1–2). Against the Thirty Theramenes is seen positively and distinguishes himself
for epieikeia and kagalogathia (14.4.1). Kindness or acting with moderation (epieikeia) is
a very important concept which occurrs several times throughout the Bibliotheke.58 For,
according to Diodorus’ paradigm of empire involving moderation turning to arrogance,
those who aspire to authority need to surpass others especially in epieikeia (i.e. 27.16);
if they, instead, act harshly with their subjects they will suffer their disaffection, and
thus will lose their empire. This paradigm involves several passages of the Bibliotheke,
ranging from mythology to Alexander’s diadochoi, and is applied to Roman imperialism
as well.59
Late-Republican writers applied to Roman empire and its decadence a similar
reading as that given by Diodorus. They help us to better understand Diodorus’ view as
well as his narrative patterns. Some passages from Cicero’s De re publica (3.8.12; 3.12.20–
21; 3.14.22) on justice are doubly interesting: first they testify that the debate on Roman
empire and especially on that contradiction in terms, justice and imperium, was already
widespread among Greek thinkers of the Hellenistic age (Philus, one of the speakers
of the third book of the dialogue,60 reproposes Carneades’ arguments on justice61);
second, criticism of a certain ‘moralistic’ strand of Greek culture, which opposed
Roman customs, emerges from Carneades’ arguments and shows that debating moral
themes and Greek culture was still relevant in Cicero’s lifetime and gained a certain
success among his readers.62 After discussing whether and how empire and justice

maintained that many controversial interpolations of Lycophron’s Alexandra (about a sev-

enth of the poem) might be later additions explicable with the fact that the work appealed
to southern Italian audiences, and was intended for performances.
57 Cf. Krentz (1982): 139–140, Sacks (1990): 19–20. Contra Stylianou (1998): 72 and 89–92.
58 Cf. Sacks (1990): 101–106.
59 Sacks (1990): 42–43 and (1994): 216–220.
60 The others are Laelius and Scipio.
61 Carneades of Cyrene along with two other Greek philosophers, Diogenes of Babylon and
the Peripatetic Critolaus, arrived at Rome in 155 bc as ambassador to ask for a reduction
of a financial penalty which the Roman senate had inflicted upon Athens.
62 Against the traditional view according to which Cicero would follow Panaetius’ concep-
262 appendix

can be reconciled Philus concludes by saying that, if the Romans had restored all their
possessions, they would have fallen back to a life of villages and poverty (3.12.21). This
shows that it is not possible to delegitimise any kind of dominion, but it is necessary
to understand how conquerors behave after their conquests.63 Diodorus in a passage
where he is supposedly following Posidonius describes the Roman empire as the
greatest in memory and the most successful; but a little later he stresses the sharp
contrast between the earlier Romans who had acquired power and the utter decadence
of his contemporary citizens (37.2.1; 3.1).64 Posidonius may also be Diodorus’ source for
the debate between Cato and Scipio Nasica on the future of Carthage. The former was in
favour of destroying the city, while the latter supported the necessity of preserving her,
since the fear for an external menace would prevent internal disorders as well as allies’
rebellions (34–35.3).65 A shared view considered the end of the Punic fear and the huge
income that Rome enjoyed as the chief cause of moral degeneration among Roman
governing classes: to give one example close to Diodorus’ own day, we could recall
Sallust’s denunciation of the corruption of customs that spread as soon as Sulla came
to power (Cat. 11). Diodorus might share with his contemporaries that common feeling
and thus have a ‘moderately critical’ view of Roman imperialism.66 Furthermore, his
reading of Roman history through the paradigm of rise and decadence might go back
to the age of Polybius.
Did, in fact, Polybius reflect on whether and how Rome might decline? To some
extent he probably did. It is true that, according to Polybius, Roman ‘mixed’ consti-
tution was undoubtedly a guarantee for stability, if compared to that of Carthage or
of other Greek cities (Athens, Thebes, Crete, Sparta, or even to Plato’s Republic, 6.43–
56), and the fact that it contained all elements of previous constitutions (monarchy,
aristocracy and democracy) should have avoided that cycle of rise and fall (anacyclo-
sis); nevertheless it was not exempt from decline either.67 Not only do we find late in
the Histories a few hints at the moral decay of the Romans (18.35.1–2; 31.25, 35.4; 38.21–
22), but there are also clues that suggests that economic and social changes, caused by
Roman imperialism and by those diapontioi polemoi, changed people radically, ruining
the traditional Roman customs (2.21.8; 18.35.1).68 Polybius did not follow that cycle of
succession of empires already known to Herodotus and Ctesias (Assyrians, Medians,

tions, scholars today agree that he could be an interpret of contemporary aristocratic

views. Corsaro (1999): 128.
63 Corsaro (1999): 126.
64 Sacks (1990): 121. Cf. Strasburger (1965): 40–53.
65 Malitz (1983).
66 Cf. Sacks (1990): 117–159, Pelling (2007 c): 244–258.
67 Pelling (2007 c): 244–258.
68 Corsaro (1999): 124.
appendix 263

Persians), to which Aemilius Sura added ‘Macedonians’ and ‘Romans’ (ii–i bc), and
which fully explained and justified the success of Rome in the Augustan age.69 Unlike
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, for example, Polybius was far away from that sort of teleo-
logical view of history that developed in the Augustan age. Nonetheless he could hardly
ignore that model of succession of empires (cf. 38.22.2).70 He just replaced it with a
different pattern, formed by Persians, Spartans, Macedonians, and, finally, by Romans
(1.2.2–7), which seems to be conceived from a Greek perspective; perhaps through his
work Polybius still wanted to please his Greek audiences and to respond to their expec-
tations.
Near the end of the Histories Polybius seems to foreshadow the end of Roman
rule, intimating that what happened to Ilion, Assyria, Media, Persia, Macedonia and
Carthage might happen again in the future to Rome as well (38.22.1–2). Besides, there is
an interesting passage which shows that after the third Punic war some Greeks believed
that the imperialistic ambitions of the Romans had led them to war against Carthage
(36.9). The fragmentary state of this passage along with the major room given to pro-
Roman views invites caution; nevertheless it seems that a sort of warning for the future
was in the air when the author wrote, whatever audiences and authorial intentions
were: what happened in the past to Athens and Sparta would occur again to Rome.
The Romans had gradually and insensibly become perverted to the same ambition for
power which had once characterised the Athenians and the Spartans; and though they
had advanced more slowly than these, finally they would arrive at the same fulfillment,
ἥξειν δ’ ἐπὶ ταὐτὸ τέλος ἐκ τῶν προφαινομένων (36.9.5).71
Thus the seeds of the Diodorean model of empires that from moderation turn into
arrogance seem to go back a long way and particularly to Polybius’ teaching: ‘For at first
they [the Romans] had made war with every nation until they were victorious and until
their adversaries had confessed that they must obey them and execute their orders.
But now they had struck the first note of their new policy by their conduct to Perseus,
in utterly exterminating the kingdom of Macedonia, and they had now completely
revealed it by their decision concerning Carthage. For the Carthaginians had been
guilty of no immediate offence to Rome, but the Romans had treated them with
irremediable severity, though they had accepted all their conditions and consented to
obey all their orders’ (Poly. 36.9.6–8).72

69 See, Alonso-Nuñez (1989): 110–119, Id. (1984): 640–644 and (1995): 3–15, Corsaro (1999): 13.
70 Polybius was mainly interested in the succession of empires, while Dionysius in the
forming of Roman hegemony. Alonso-Nuñez (1983): 411–426, 418.
71 Cf. Pelling (2007 c): 244–258.
72 Transl. by W.R. Paton.
 264 appendix

4 Translations

Diod. 14.80.2–5 P. Oxy. v 842, 11.4–12.4

He [Agesilaus] dispatched by night the Spartan … hoplites and … hundred light-armed troops, and
Xenocles with fourteen hundred soldiers to a made Xenocles, a Spartiate, their commander,
thickly wooded place to set an ambush for the having ordered that when the Persians happened to
barbarians 3. Then Agesilaus himself moved at be coming against them … draw up for battle
daybreak along the way with his army. And when he … Agesilaus roused up his army at dawn and
had passed the place of ambush and the barbarians again led it forward. Having followed as they had
were advancing upon him without battle order and been accustomed to do, some of the barbarians
harassing his rearguard, to their surprise he attacked the Greeks, others rode around them, and
suddenly turned about on the Persians. others began to pursue them across the plain in an
undisciplined fashion. 5. When he judged it the right
moment to attack the enemy, Xenocles roused the
Peloponnesians from their ambush and charged at
the double. When the barbarians saw the Greeks
charging at them, they fled all over the plain. Seeing
When a sharp battle followed, he raised the signal them terrified, Agesilaus sent the light-armed
to the soldiers in ambush and they, chanting the troops of his army and the cavalry to pursue them.
battle song, charged the enemy. The Persians, seeing Together with those who had come from the
that they were caught between the forces, were ambush, they fell upon the barbarians. 6. They
struck with dismay and turned at once in flight. 4. chased the enemy but not for very long, for they
Pursuing them for some distance, Agesilaus could not catch them because the majority were
slew over six thousand of them, gathered a great cavalry and troops without armour. They killed
multitude of prisoners, and pillaged their camp about six hundred of them, then they broke off the
which was stored with goods of many sorts. pursuit and went to the camp of the barbarians.
Taking the garrison, which was not well organised,
by surprise, they seized the camp speedly and
captured lots of supplies, many men and much
equipment and money, some belonging to others,
some to Tissaphernes himself.
5. Tissaphernes, thunderstruck at the daring of the 12.1 This being the nature of the battle, the
Lacedaemonians, wihdrew from the battle to Sardis, barbarians, terrified by the Greeks, moved away
and Agesilaus was about to attack the satrapies with Tissaphernes to Sardis. Agesilaus, having waited
farther inland, but led his army back to the sea there three days (in which he returned to the
when he could not obtain favourable omens from the enemy their dead under truce, set up a trophy, and
sacrifices. ravaged the entire area), then once again led his
force forward to Greater Phrygia. 2. He made the
 appendix 265

Diod. 14.80.2–5 P. Oxy. v 842, 11.4–12.4

journey no longer having his soldiers drawn up in

square formation but allowing them to attack
what land they wanted and to cause harm to the
enemy. Perceiving that the Greeks were advancing,
Tissaphernes, once again taking the barbarians with
him, followed behind them, keeping many stades
distance. 3. Journeying through the plain of Lydia,
Agesilaus led the army … through the mountains
lying between Lydia and Phrygia. When they had
crossed these, he brought the Greeks down to
Phrygia until they reached the Maeander river
which takes its source from Celaenae which is the
greatest city in Phrygia, and flows out to the
sea near Priene and … 4. Having encamped the
Peloponnesians and their allies, he made a sacrifice
to find out whether he should cross the river or not,
whether to march against Celaenae or to lead his
army back again. Since it happened that the sacrifices
were not auspicious, he waited there the day on
which he arrived and the following day, then
withdrew his army … So Agesilaus … the plain of
the Maeander … there live the Lydians and …73

73 Diodorus is translated by C.H. Oldfather, the ho by McKechnie-Kern.

 266 appendix

P. Cairo temp. inv. no. 26 6 sr 3049, 27 1, coll. i–ii Xen. Hell. 1.2.6–9

Col i

… to attack the walls … 6. After this Thrasyllus led the army back to the
… most of the triremes … coast. He intended next to sail on to Ephesus, but
… the others, a place in Ephesian territory … Tissaphernes got to know of the plan and got
… having disembarked the whole force … on the together a large force to deal with it. He sent
city. horsemen all round the country with instructions
[But] the Ephesians with the Spartans … them … that everyone should move on Ephesus for the
… they did not see those of the Athenians with protection of Artemis.
Pasion (since they were still a long way away and 7. It was on the seventeenth day after his raid that
marching by a longer route than the others), but Thrasyllus sailed in to Ephesus. He landed the
seeing those with Thrasyllus, who had only just hoplites at the foot of Mount Coressus and the
arrived, they met them in battle at the harbour cavalry, peltasts, marines and all the rest near the
called Coressus, having as allies those who had marsh on the other side of the city. At dawn he gave
helped [them previously] and the most reliable … orders for both divisions to advance.
… living [in the Kil]bi[an] plain. After this 8. But those in the city came out to meet him. There
Thrasyllus, the general of the Athenians, as he were the Ephesians themselves, the allied force
reached the city, left some of his soldiers attacking, brought up by Tissaphernes, the Syracusans (both
but led others to the hill, which is high and hard to the crews of the original twenty ships and also of
climb. [In this way] some were turned to retreat five others under the command of Eucles, the son of
inside, and some outside, the city. The leaders of the Hippon, and Heraclides, the son of Aristogenes,
Ephesians were Timarchus and Possicrates … which happened to have just arrived) and the crews
of the two ships from Selinus.
Col ii 9. The whole of this force moved first against the
hoplites at Coressus and put them to flight, killing
… he led the army forward. Since the enemy were about a hundred and pursuing the rest to the shore.
retreating, the Athenians followed them eagerly They then turned against the Athenians by the
with the intention of taking the city by force. But marsh, and these, too, were routed and about three
Timarchus and Possicrates, the leaders of the hundred of them killed.74
Ephesians, called up their own hoplites. When the
Athenians approached …

74 Transl. by R. Warner.
Bibliography

Editions of the ho (Starting with the Most Recent)

Behrwald, R., Hellenika von Oxyrhynchos (Darmstadt, 2005).

Chambers, M., Hellenica Oxyrhynchia post Victorium Bartoletti (Leipzig, 1993).
McKechnie, P.J. and S.J. Kern, Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (Warminster, 1988).
Koenen, L., ‘Papyrology in the Federal Republic of Germany and Fieldwork of the
International Photographic Archive in Cairo,’ StudPap 15 (1976), 39–79.
Bartoletti, V., Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (Leipzig, 1959).
Bartoletti, V., ‘Nuovi frammenti delle Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ Papiri Greci e latini, 13
(Firenze, 1949), 61–81.
Gigante, M., Le Elleniche di Ossirinco (Roma, 1949).
Maas, P., Nova Hellenicorum Oxyrhynchiorum Fragmenta (Oxford, 1949).
Kalinka, E., Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (Leipzig, 1927).
Jacoby, F., ‘Hellenika von Oxyrhynchos (Daimachos von Plataiai?),’ in F. Jacoby (ed.),
Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Berlin, 1926), ii a n. 66, pp. 17–35, and
ii c Comm. pp. 6–20.
Lipsius, J.H., Cratippi Hellenicorum fragmenta Oxyrhynchia (Bonn, 1916).
Meyer, E., Theopomps Hellenika (Halle, 1909).
Grenfell, B.P. and A.S. Hunt, Hellenica Oxyrhynchia cum Theopompi et Cratippi fragmen-
tis (Oxford, 1909).
Grenfell, B.P. and A.S. Hunt, ‘842. Theopompus (or Cratippus), Hellenica,’ Oxy. Pap. 5
(1908), 110–242.

General Studies

Accame, S., ‘Le fonti di Diodoro per la guerra deceleica,’ ral 14 (1938), 347–451.
Accame, S., La lega ateniese del secolo iv a. C. (Roma, 1941).
Accame, S., ‘Il problema della nazionalità greca nella politica di Pericle e di Trasibulo,’
Paideia 11 (1956), 241–253.
Accame, S., L’imperialismo ateniese all’inizio del iv secolo a.C. e la crisi della polis (Napoli,
1966).
Accame, S., ‘Ricerche sulle Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ mgr 6 (1978), 125–183.
Adcock, F.E., Thucydides and His History (Cambridge, 1963).
Africa, T.W., ‘Ephorus and Oxyrhynchus Papyrus 1610,’ AJPh 83 (1962), 86–89.
Alonso-Nuñez, J.M., ‘Appian and the World Empires,’ Athenaeum 62 (1984), 640–644.
Alonso-Nuñez, J.M., ‘Aemilius Sura,’ Latomus 48 (1989), 110–119.
268 bibliography

Alonso-Nuñez, J.M., ‘Die Weltgeschichte des Nikolaos von Damaskos,’ SStor (1995), 3–
15.
Ambaglio, D., La Biblioteca storica di Diodoro Siculo: problemi e metodo (Como, 1995).
Ambaglio, D., Diodoro Siculo. Biblioteca storica. Libro xiii. Commento storico (Milano,
2008).
Anderson, J.K., ‘The Battle of Sardis in 395 b.c.,’ csca 7 (1975), 27–53.
Andrewes, A., ‘Thucydides and the Persians,’ Historia 10 (1961), 1–18.
Andrewes, A., ‘Lysias and the Theramenes Papyrus,’ zpe 6 (1970), 35–38.
Andrewes, A., ‘Notion and Kyzikos: The Sources Compared,’ jhs 102 (1982), 15–25.
Asheri, D., Erodoto. Le Storie, Libro i. La Lidia e la Persia (Milano, 1988).
Austin, C., ‘De nouveaux fragments de l’Érechthée d’Euripide,’ RecPap 4 (1967), 11–67.
Babelon, M.E., Inventaire sommaire de la Collection Waddington (Paris, 1898).
Bakhuizen, S.C., ‘Thebes and Boeotia in the Fourth Century b.c.,’ Phoenix 48 (1994),
307–330.
Baragwanath, E., Motivation and Narrative in Herodotus (Oxford, 2008).
Baragwanath, E., ‘A Noble Alliance: Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon’s Procles,’
in E. Foster and D. Lateiner (eds), Thucydides and Herodotus (Oxford, 2012), 317–
341.
Barbieri, G., Conone (Roma, 1955).
Bauer, G., De sermone Hellenicorum Oxyrhynchi repertorum (Vindobonae-Lipsiae, 1913).
Bearzot, C., ‘Teramene tra storia e propaganda,’ ril 113 (1979), 195–219.
Bearzot, C., ‘Da Andocide ad Eschine: motivi ed ambiguità del pacifismo ateniese nel
iv secolo a.C.,’ cisa 11 (1985), 86–107.
Bearzot, C., ‘Per una nuova immagine di Teramene: P. Mich. inv. 5982 e il processo di
Eratostene,’ cisa 17 (1991), 65–87.
Bearzot, C., Lisia e la tradizione su Teramene: commento storico alle orazioni xii e xiii
del corpus lysiacum (Milano, 1997).
Bearzot, C., ‘Il “papiro di Teramene” e le Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ in S. Bianchetti and
M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a cinquanta anni
dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La Spezia, 2001),
9–32.
Bearzot, C., Federalismo e autonomia nelle Elleniche di Senofonte (Milano, 2004).
Bearzot, C., ‘Polibio e Teopompo: osservazioni di metodo e giudizio morale,’ in G.
Schepens and J. Bollansée (eds), The Shadow of Polybius. Intertextuality as a Research
Tool in Greek Historiography. Proceedings of the International Colloquium Leuven 21–
22 September 2001 (Leuven-Paris-Dudley Ma, 2005), 55–71.
Bearzot, C., ‘Isole e isolani nella prospettiva di Tucidide,’ in C. Ampolo (ed.) Immagine
e immagini della Sicilia e di altre isole del Mediterraneo antico, vol. 1 (Pisa, 2009), 101–
112.
Bearzot, C., ‘Eforo e Teramene,’ MedAnt 15 (2012), 293–307.
bibliography 269

Beck, H., ‘Thebes, the Boiotian League, and the “Rise of Federalism”,’ in P. Angeli
Bernardini (ed.), Presenza e funzione della città di Tebe nella cultura greca. Atti del
Convegno Internazionale, Urbino 7–9 luglio 1997 (Pisa-Roma, 2000), 331–344.
Beloch, K.J., Griechische Geschichte, vol. ii 2 (Leipzig-Berlin, 1931).
Bertoli, M., ‘La “Guerra giusta” in Tucidide: argomenti giuridici, argomenti religiosi,’
Aevum 83 (2009), 7–30.
Bianchetti, S., ‘Sulla data di composizione delle Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ Sileno 18 (1992),
1–13.
Bianchetti, S., ‘“Atene sul mare” e la prospettiva delle “Elleniche di Ossirinco”,’ in S. Bian-
chetti and M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a cin-
quanta anni dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La
Spezia, 2001), 33–46.
Bianchetti, S. and M. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a
cinquanta anni dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La
Spezia, 2001).
Bianco, E., ‘La composizione delle Storie di Tucidide e il problema dei libri siciliani:
uno status quaestionis,’ in S. Cataldi (ed.), Plous es Sikelian. Ricerche sulla seconda
spedizione ateniese in Sicilia (Alessandria, 1992), 7–19.
Bianco, E., Lo stratego Timoteo torre di Atene (Alessandria, 2007).
Bleckmann, B., Athens Weg in die Niederlage. Die letzen Jahre des peloponnesischen
Krieges, (Stuttgart-Leipzig, 1998).
Bleckmann, B., Fiktion als Geschichte. Neue Studien zum Autor der Hellenika Oxyrhyn-
chia und zur Historiographie des vierten vorchristlichen Jahrhunderts (Göttingen,
2006).
Bloch, H., Abhandlungen zur griechischen Geschichtsschreibung von Felix Jacoby (Lei-
den, 1956).
Bloch, H., ‘Studies in Historical Literature of the Fourth Century b.c.,’ in W. Scott
Ferguson (ed.) Athenian Studies Presented to William Scott Ferguson. Harvard Studies
in Classical Philology, Supplementary, vol. 1 (New York, 1973), 303–316.
Bommelaer, J.F., Lysandre de Sparte. Histoire et traditions (Paris, 1981).
Bommelaer, J.F., ‘Le songe d’Agésilas: un mythe or le rêve d’un mythe?,’ Ktèma 8 (1983),
19–26.
Bonamente, G., Studio sulle Elleniche di Ossirinco (Perugia, 1973).
Botha, L.A., The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia and the Asiatic Campaign of Agesilaus (Diss.
Univ. of South Africa, 1980).
Botha, L.A., ‘The Asiatic Campaign of Agesilaus. The Topography of the Route from
Ephesus to Sardis,’ AClass 31 (1988), 71–80.
Bowie, A.M., ‘Tragic Filters for History: Euripides’ Supplices and Sophocles’ Philoctetes,’
in C.B.R. Pelling (ed.), Greek Tragedy and the Historian (Oxford, 1997), 39–62.
Breitenbach, H.R., ‘Xenophon,’ re 9 a 2 (1967), 1567–1928.
270 bibliography

Breitenbach, H.R., ‘Hellenika Oxyrhynchia,’ re Suppl. 12 (1970), 383–426.

Breitenbach, H.R., ‘Der Michigan Papyrus 5982 über Theramenes: historische Probleme
und Autorschaft,’ in H.E. Herzig and R. Frei-Stolba (eds), Labor Omnibus Unus,
Historia Einzelschriften, vol. 60 (Stuttgart, 1989), 121–135.
Briant, P., Histoire de l’empire perse. De Cyrus à Alexandre (Paris, 1996).
Bruce, I.A.F., ‘Internal Politics and the Outbreak of the Corinthian War,’ Emerita 28
(1960), 75–86.
Bruce, I.A.F., ‘The Mutiny of Conon’s Cypriot Mercenaries,’ PChS 8 (1962), 13–16.
Bruce, I.A.F., An Historical Commentary on the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (Cambridge,
1967).
Buckler, J., ‘The Incident at Mount Parnassus, 395 bc,’ in C.J. Tuplin (ed.) Xenophon
and His World. Papers from a Conference Held in Liverpool in July 1999, Historia
Einzelschriften, vol. 172 (Stuttgart, 2004), 397–411.
Burelli Bergese, L., ‘“Catinienses quoque” (Iust., iv 3, 4–4, 3),’ in S. Cataldi (ed.) Plous
es Sikelian. Ricerche sulla seconda spedizione ateniese in Sicilia (Alessandria, 1992),
63–79.
Busolt, G., ‘Der neue Historiker und Xenophon,’ Hermes 43 (1908), 255–285.
Candau Moron, J.M., ‘Plutarch’s Lysander and Sulla: Integrated Characters in Roman
Historical Perspective,’ AJPh 121 (2000), 453–478.
Canfora, L., Tucidide continuato (Padova, 1970).
Canfora, L., ‘Il ciclo storico,’ Belfagor 26 (1971), 653–670.
Canfora, L., La storiografia greca (Milano, 1999).
Canfora, L., ‘psi 1304,’ APapyrol 14–15 (2002–2003), 213–235.
Cargill, J.L., The Second Athenian League: Empire or Free Alliance? (Berkeley-London,
1981).
Carter, L.B., The Quiet Athenian (Oxford, 1986).
Cartledge, P., Agesilaos and the Crisis of Sparta (Baltimore, 1987).
Cartledge, P., ‘Boiotian Swine F(or)ever? The Boiotian Superstate, 395 bc,’ in P. Flensted
Jensen, T. Nielsen and L. Rubinstein (eds), Polis and Politics: Studies in Ancient Greek
History (Copenhagen, 2000), 397–415.
Cataldi, S., Symbolai e relazioni tra le città greche nel v secolo a.C. (Pisa, 1983).
Cataldi, S., Prospettive occidentali allo scoppio della guerra del Peloponneso (Pisa, 1990).
Cawkwell, G.L., Recension to I.A.F. Bruce, An Historical Commentary on the Hellenica
Oxyrhynchia (Cambridge, 1967), cr 18 (1968), 288–290.
Cawkwell, G.L., Xenophon. The Persian Expedition. Introduction (London, 1972), 9–48.
Cawkwell, G.L., ‘The Imperialism of Thrasybulus,’ cq 26 (1976), 270–277.
Cawkwell, G.L., Xenophon. A History of My Times, Introduction (London, 1979), 7–46.
Cawkwell, G.L., ‘Notes on the Failure of the Second Athenian Confederacy,’ jhs 101
(1981), 40–55.
Cawkwell, G.L., ‘When, How and Why did Xenophon Write the Anabasis?,’ in R. Lane
bibliography 271

Fox, The Long March. Xenophon and the Ten Thousand (New Haven-London, 2004),
47–67.
Cecchin, S., Patrios Politeia: un tentativo propagandistico durante la Guerra del Pelopon-
neso (Torino, 1969).
Chávez Reino, A.L., ‘Los claroscuros del Éforo de Polibio,’ in G. Schepens and J. Bollan-
sée (eds), The Shadow of Polybius. Intertextuality as a Research Tool in Greek Histo-
riography. Proceedings of the International Colloquium Leuven 21–22 September 2001
(Leuven-Paris-Dudley Ma, 2005), 19–54.
Christensen, A.E., Les Gestes des rois dans les traditions de l’Iran antique (Paris, 1936).
Clarke, K., Between Geography and History. Hellenistic Constructions of the Roman World
(Oxford, 1999).
Connor, W.R., ‘History without Heroes: Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip of Macedon,’
grbs 8 (1967), 133–154.
Connor, W.R., Thucydides (Princeton, 1984).
Consolo Langher, S.N., Stati federali greci. Focesi Calcidesi di Tracia, Acarnani (Catania,
1996).
Constantakopoulos, C., The Dance of the Islands: Perceptions of Insularity in Classical
Greece (Oxford, 2007).
Cook, M., ‘Ancient Political Factions: Boiotia 404 to 395,’ tapa 118 (1988), 57–85.
Corcella, A., Tucidide. La disfatta di Siracusa (Storie vi–vii). Introduzione (Venezia,
1996), 9–41.
Corsaro, M., ‘Ripensando Diodoro. Il problema della storia universale nel mondo anti-
co,’ MedAnt 1 (1998), 405–436.
Corsaro, M., ‘Ripensando Diodoro. Il problema della storia universale nel mondo anti-
co,’ MedAnt 2 (1999), 117–169.
Costa, A., ‘Evagoras i and the Persians, ca. 411 to 391 b.c.,’ Historia 23 (1974), 40–56.
Cuniberti, G., ‘La battaglia di Efeso. Il papiro del Cairo tra Senofonte e Diodoro,’ mep 13
(2008), 8–22.
D’Alessio, G.B., ‘Danni materiali e ricostruzione di rotoli papiracei: le Elleniche di
Ossirinco (POxy 842) e altri esempi,’ zpe 134 (2001), 23–41.
Davidson, J., ‘Isocrates against Imperialism: An Analysis of the Peace,’Historia 39 (1990),
20–36.
Davies, M., Epicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (Göttingen, 1988).
Debnar, P., Speaking the Same Language. Speech and Audience in Thucydides’ Spartan
Debate (Ann Arbor, 2001).
Demand, N.H., Thebes in the Fifth Century b.c. (London, 1982).
Denniston, J.D., The Greek Particles (Oxford, 1954).
De Salvo, L., ‘Le origini del koinon dei Calcidesi di Tracia,’ Athenaeum 46 (1968), 47–53.
De Sanctis, G., ‘L’Attide di Androzione e un papiro di Oxyrhynchos,’ aast 43 (1907–
1908), 331–356.
272 bibliography

De Sanctis, G., ‘La battaglia di Notion,’ rfic 59 (1931), 222–229.

De Sensi Sestito, G., ‘Correnti, leaders e politica estera in Atene (400–395 a.C.),’ SicGym
(1979), 1–42.
Desideri, P., ‘Nascita e rinascite della storia universale antica,’ in D. Ambaglio, C. Bearzot
and R. Vattuone (eds), Atti del Congresso Storiografia locale e storiografia universale.
Forme di acquisizione del sapere storico nella cultura antica, Bologna, 16–18 dicembre
1999 (Como, 2001), 199–209.
De Voto, J., ‘Agesilaos and Tissaphernes near Sardis in 395 b.c.,’Hermes 116 (1988), 41–53.
Dewald, C., Thucydides’ War Narrative. A Structural Study (Berkeley-Los Angeles-Lon-
don, 2005).
Dewald, C., ‘The Figured Stage: Focalizing the Initial Narratives of Herodotus and
Thucydides,’ in J.S. Rusten (ed.), Oxford Readings in Classical Studies. Thucydides
(Oxford, 2009), 114–147.
Dillery, J., Xenophon and the History of His Times (London-New York, 1995).
Dover, K.L., Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford, 1974).
Dover, K.J., The Greeks and Their Legacy. Collected Papers Volume ii: Prose Literature,
History, Society, Transmission, Influence (Oxford, 1988).
Dreher, M., ‘Poleis und Nicht-Poleis im Zweiten athenischen Seebund,’ in M.H. Hansen
(ed.), Sources for the Ancient Greek City-State. Acts of the Copenhagen Polis Centre,
vol. 2 (Copenhagen, 1995), 171–200.
Duff, T.E., Plutarch’s Lives. Exploring Virtue and Vice (Oxford, 1999).
Dugas, Ch., ‘La campagne d’Agésilas en Asie Mineure,’ bch 34 (1910), 58–95.
Dušanić, S., ‘Theban Politics and the Socratic Dialogues,’ in AncW 36 (2005), 107–
122.
Ehrenberg, V., ‘Polypragmosyne: A Study in Greek Politics,’ jhs 67 (1947), 46–67.
Ehrenberg, V., The Greek State (Oxford, 1969).
Engels, J., ‘Der Michigan-Papyrus über Theramenes und die Ausbildung des “Thera-
menes-Mythos”,’ zpe 99 (1993), 125–155.
Étienne, R. and D. Knoepfler, Hyettos de Béotie et la chronologie des archontes fédéraux
entre 250 et 171 avant j.c. (Paris, 1976).
Fisher, N., ‘Hybris, Revenge and Stasis in the Greek City-States,’ in H. van Wees (ed.),
War and Violence in Ancient Greece (London-Wales, 2000), 83–123.
Flower, M.A., Theopompus of Chios: History and Rhetoric in the Fourth Century bc (Ox-
ford, 1994).
Flower, M.A., ‘From Simonides to Isocrates: The Fifth-Century Origins of Fourth-Cen-
tury Panhellenism,’ ClAnt 19 (2000), 65–101.
Flower, M.A. and J. Marincola, Herodotus Histories Book ix (Cambridge, 2002).
Flower, M.A., ‘Herodotus and Persia,’ in C. Dewald and J. Marincola (eds), The Cam-
bridge Companion to Herodotus (Cambridge-New York, 2006), 274–289.
Flower, M.A., Xenophon’s Anabasis, or the Expedition of Cyrus (Oxford, 2012).
bibliography 273

Fornara, C.W., The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome (Berkeley-Los Angeles-
London, 1983).
Fornis, C., ‘Las causas de la guerra de Corinto: un análisis tucidídeo,’ Gerión 25 (2007),
187–218.
Fornis, C., ‘Conón entre Persia y Atenas (394–391 a.C.),’ dha 34 (2008), 33–64.
Fraenkel, E., Aeschylus: Agamemnon, vol. 2 (Oxford, 1950).
Fraenkel, E., ‘Der Agamemnon des Aeschylus,’ in Kleine Beiträge zur Klassischen Philolo-
gie, vol. 1 (Roma, 1964), 329–351.
Fritz, K. von, Die griechische Geschichtsschreibung, Band i, Von den Anfängen bis Thuky-
dides (Berlin, 1967).
Frye, R.N., The Heritage of Persia (London, 1976).
Gehrke, H.J., Stasis. Untersuchungen zu den inneren Kriegen in den griechischen Staaten
des 5. und 4. Jahrhunderts v.Chr. (München, 1985).
Gelzer, M., Recension to E.M. Walker, The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia. Its Authorship and
Authority (Oxford, 1913), Wochenschr. Klass. Philol. 31 (1914), 124–127.
Gentili, B. and G. Cerri, Le teorie del discorso storico nel pensiero greco e la storiografia
romana arcaica (Roma, 1975).
Gera, D.L., Xenophon’s Cyropaedia (Oxford, 1993).
Ginsburg, J., Tradition and Theme in the Annals of Tacitus (New Hampshire, 1981).
Giuffrida, M., ‘Le Fonti sull’ascesa di Evagora al trono,’ asnp 1 (1996), 589–627.
Glotz, G., ‘Le conseil fédéral des Béotiens,’ in bch 32 (1908), 271–278.
Gomme, A.W., A Historical Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 1 (Oxford, 1972).
Gomme, A.W., The Greek Attitude to Poetry and History (Berkeley, 1984).
Gonzales, J.P., ‘Corinto y las causas de la guerra de Corinto,’ Polis 6 (1995), 187–218.
Gorman, R.J., ‘Οἱ περί τινα in Strabo,’ zpe 136 (2001), 201–213.
Gorman, R.J. and V.B. Gorman, ‘The Tryphe of the Sybarites: A Historiographical Prob-
lem in Athenaeus,’ jhs 127 (2007), 38–60.
Gould, J., Herodotus (London, 1989).
Gray, V.J., ‘Two Different Approaches to the Battle of Sardis in 395 b.c. Xenophon’s
Hellenica 3.4.20–24 and Hellenica Oxyrhynchia 11 (6). 4–6,’ csca 12 (1979), 183–200.
Gray, V.J., The Character of Xenophon’s Hellenica (London, 1989).
Gray, V.J., ‘Continuous History and Xenophon, Hellenica 1–2.3.10,’ ajp 112 (1991), 201–228.
Gray, V.J., ‘Images of Sparta: Writer and Audience in Isocrates’Panathenaicus,’ in A. Pow-
ell and S. Hodkinson (eds), The Shadow of Sparta (Sparta-New York, 1994 a), 223–
271.
Gray, V.J., ‘Isocrates’ Manipulation of Myth and the Image of Athens, Panegyricus 54ff.
Panathenaicus 168ff.,’ Prudentia 26 (1994 b), 83–104.
Greenwood, E., Thucydides and the Shaping of History (London, 2006).
Grégoire, H. and R. Goossens, ‘Les allusions politiques dans l’Hélène d’Euripide; l’épi-
sode de Teucros et les débuts du Teucride Évagoras,’ crai (1940), 206–227.
274 bibliography

Grenfell, B.P. and A.S. Hunt, ‘1365. History of Sicyon,’ Oxy. Pap. 11 (1915), 104–111.
Grenfell, B.P. and A.S. Hunt, ‘1610. Ephorus, xii (or xi),’ Oxy. Pap. 13 (1919), 98–127.
Griffith, G.T., ‘Athens in the Fourth Century,’ in P.D.A. Garnsey and C.R. Whittaker (eds),
Imperialism in the Ancient World (Cambridge, 1979), 127–144.
Grünter, W., Akroasis. Der akustische Sinnesbereich in der griechischen Literatur bis zum
Ende der klassischen Zeit (Tübingen, 2001).
Hamilton, C.D., ‘The Politics of Revolution in Corinth, 395–386b.c.,’ Historia 21 (1972),
21–37.
Hamilton, C.D., Sparta’s Bitter Victories. Politics and Diplomacy in the Corinthian War
(Ithaca-London, 1979).
Hamilton, C.D., Agesilaus and the Failure of Spartan Hegemony (Ithaca-London, 1991).
Hammond, N.G.L., ‘The Particular and the Universal in the Speeches of Thucydides,’ in
P. Stadter (ed.), The Speeches of Thucydides (North Carolina, 1973), 49–59.
Hansen, M.H., ‘Boiotian Poleis: A Test Case,’ in M.H. Hansen (ed.), Sources for the
Ancient Greek City-State, Acts of the Copenhagen Polis Centre, vol. 2 (Copenhagen,
1995), 13–63.
Hansen, M.H., ‘An Inventory of Boiotian Poleis in the Archaic and Classical Periods,’ in
M.H. Hansen (ed.), Introduction to an Inventory of Poleis. Acts of the Copenhagen Polis
Centre, vol. 3 (Copenhagen, 1996 a), 73–116.
Hansen, M.H., ‘Were the Boiotian Poleis Deprived of Their Autonomia during the First
and Second Boiotian Federations? A Reply,’ in M.H. Hansen and K. Raaflaub (eds),
More Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis, Historia Einzelschriften, vol. 108 (Stuttgart,
1996 b), 127–136.
Harding, P., ‘The Theramenes Myth,’ Phoenix 28 (1974), 101–111.
Harding, P., ‘The Authorship of the Hellenica Oxyrhynchia,’ ahb 1 (1987), 104–107.
Harding, P., Androtion and the Atthis (Oxford, 1994).
Hatzfeld, J., Helleniques, vol. 1 (Paris, 1937).
Hägg, T., The Art of Biography in Antiquity (Cambridge, 2012).
Higgins, W.E., Xenophon the Athenian: The Problem of the Individual and the Society of
the Polis (Albany, 1977).
Hinds, S., Allusion and Intertext: Dynamics of Appropriation in Roman Poetry (Cam-
bridge, 1998).
Hirsch, S.W., The Friendship of the Barbarians. Xenophon and the Persian Empire (Hano-
ver-London, 1985).
Homeyer, H., ‘Zu den Anfängen der griechischen Biographie,’ Philologus 106 (1962), 75–
85.
Horden, P. and N. Purcell, The Corrupting Sea: A Study of Mediterranean History (Oxford,
2000).
Hornblower, J., Hieronymus of Cardia (Oxford, 1981).
Hornblower, S., Thucydides (London, 1987).
bibliography 275

Hornblower, S., A Commentary on Thucydides, vol. 1 (Oxford, 1991).

Hornblower, S., ‘The Fourth-Century and Hellenistic Reception of Thucydides,’ jhs
(1995), 47–68.
Hornblower, S., Thucydides and Pindar. Historical Narrative and the World of Epinikian
Poetry (Oxford, 2004).
Hornblower, S., ‘Thucydides and Plataian Perjury,’ in A.H. Sommerstein and J. Fletcher
(eds), Horkos. The Oaths in Greek Society (Bristol, 2007), 138–147.
Hornblower, S., ‘Thucydides’ Awareness of Herodotus or Herodotus’ Awareness of
Thucydides,’ in V. Fromentin, S. Gotteland and P. Payen (eds), Ombres de Thucydide.
La réception de l’historien depuis l’Antiquité jusq’au début du xxe siècle. Actes des
colloques de Bordeaux, les 16–17 mars 2007, de Bordeaux, les 30–31 mai 2008 et de
Toulouse, les 23–25 octobre 2008 (Bordeaux, 2010), 27–33.
Hudson-Williams, H.Ll., ‘Isocrates and Recitations,’ cq 43 (1949), 65–69.
Hunter, V., Thucydides. The Artful Reporter (Toronto, 1973).
Hurni, F., Théramène ne plaidera pas coupable. Un homme politique engagé dans les
révolutions athéniennes de la fin du ve siècle av. j.-c. (Basel, 2010).
Immerwahr, H.R., Form and Thought in Herodotus (Ohio, 1966),
Irmscher, J., ‘Xenophons Adressaten,’ Philologus 135 (1991), 225–232.
Irwin, T.H., Recension to L. Strauss, Xenophon’s Socrates (Ithaca, 1972), PhR 83 (1974),
409–413.
Jacoby, F., ‘Herodotus,’ re 2 Suppl. (1903), 205–520.
Jacoby, F., ‘Ctesias,’ re 11 (1922), 2032–2073.
Jensen, S.R., Rethinking Athenian Imperialism: Sub-Hegemony in the Delian League (PhD
Thesis, Rutgers The State University of New Jersey-New Brunswick, 2010).
Jouanna, J., Hippocrate, t. iv, 3e partie, Épidémies v et vii, texte établi et traduit par
J. Jouanna, annoté par J. Jouanna et M.D. Grmek (Paris, 2000).
Judeich, W., ‘Theopomps Hellenika,’ RhM 66 (1911), 94–105.
Kalinka, E., ‘Lipsius, Cratippi Hellenicorum fragmenta Oxyrhynchia,’ Gött. gel. Anz. 7
(1917), 409–429.
Kaupert, W., ‘Sardis 395 B. Chr.,’ in J. Kromayer (ed.), Antike Schlachtfelder, vol. 4 (Berlin,
1924–1931), 275–280.
Kayser, H., Akróasis: die Lehre von der Harmonik der Welt (Basel, 1946).
Keen, A.G., ‘Were the Boiotian Poleis Autonomoi?,’ in M.H. Hansen and K. Raaflaub
(eds), More Studies in the Ancient Greek Polis, Historia Einzelschriften, vol. 108 (Stutt-
gart, 1996), 113–125.
Kennedy, G.A., ‘Ancient Antecedents of Modern Literary Theory,’ AJPh 110 (1989), 492–
497.
Kent, R.G., Old Persian: Grammar, Text, Lexicon (New Haven, 1953).
Kierdorf, W., Erlebnis und Darstellung der Perserkriege. Studien zu Simonides, Pindar,
Aischylos und den attischen Rednern (Göttingen, 1966).
276 bibliography

Krentz, P., The Thirty at Athens (Ithaca-London, 1982).

Landucci Gattinoni, F., Duride di Samo (Roma, 1997).
Lane Fox, R., ‘Introduction,’ in R. Lane Fox (ed.), The Long March. Xenophon and the Ten
Thousand (New Haven-London, 2004), 12–20.
Lang, M.L., Herodotean Narrative and Discourse (Cambridge-Massachusetts-London-
England, 1984).
Lanzillotta, E., ‘Elementi costituzionali nelle Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ in S. Bianchetti and
M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a cinquanta anni
dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La Spezia, 2001),
119–128.
Laqueur, R., ‘Ephoros, 2. Die Disposition,’ Hermes 46 (1911), 321–354.
Laqueur, R., ‘Theopompos,’ re 5 a, 2 (1934), 2176–223.
Larsen, J.A.O., Representative Government in Greek and Roman History (Berkeley-Los
Angeles, 1955 a).
Larsen, J.A.O., ‘The Boeotian Confederacy and Fifth-Century Oligarchic Theory,’ tapa
86 (1955 b), 40–50.
Lehmann, G.A., ‘Die Hellenika von Oxyrhynchos und Isokrates’ “Philippos”,’ Historia 21
(1972 a), 385–398.
Lehmann, G.A., ‘Die revolutionäre Machtergreifung der “Dreissig” und die staatliche
Teilung Attikas (404–401/0 v. Chr.),’ in G.A. Lehmann, R. Stiehl and H.E. Stier (eds),
Antike und Universalgeschichte. Festschrift Hans Erich Stier zum 70. Geburtstag am
25. Mai 1972 (Münster, 1972 b), 201–233.
Lehmann, G.A., ‘Spartas ἀρχή und die Vorphase des korinthischen Krieges in den
Hellenika Oxyrhynchia ii,’ zpe 30 (1978), 73–93.
Lehmann, G.A., ‘Theopompea,’ zpe 55 (1984), 19–44.
Lendon, J.E., ‘The Oxyrhynchus Historian and the Origins of the Corinthian War,’
Historia 38 (1989), 300–313.
Lenfant, D., Ctésias de Cnide. La Perse. L’Inde. Autres fragments (Paris, 2004).
Lérida Lafarga, R., Comentario histórico de las Helénicas de Oxirrinco. Edición bilingüe
con Estado de la cuestión y Bibliografía crítica (Zaragoza, 2007).
Levene, D.S., Livy on the Hannibalic War (Oxford-New York, 2010).
Lévy, E., Athènes devant la défaite de 404 (Paris, 1976).
Lévy, E., ‘L’art de la déformation historique dans les Hellénique de Xénophon,’ Studia
Hellenistica 30 (1990), 125–157.
Lewis, D.M., Sparta and Persia (Leiden, 1977).
Lewis, D.M. and R. Stroud, ‘Athens Honors King Evagoras of Salamis,’Hesperia 48 (1979),
180–193.
Lloyd, G.E.R., Hippocratic Writings. Introduction (Oxford, 1978), 9–60.
Loftus, A., ‘A New Fragment of the Theramenes Papyrus (P. Mich. 5796b),’zpe 133 (2000),
11–20.
bibliography 277

Loraux, N., The Invention of Athens. The Funeral Oration in the Classical City (New York,
2006).
Lossau, M., ‘Xenophons Odyssee,’ a&a 36 (1990), 47–52.
Lotze, D., ‘War Xenophon selbst der Interpolator seiner Hellenika i–ii?,’ Philologus 118
(1974), 215–217.
Luppe, W., ‘Die Lücke in der Theramenes-Rede des Michigan-Papyrus Inv. 5982,’zpe 32
(1978), 14–16.
Luppe, W., ‘Antiochos’ verhängnisvolle Provokation gegen Lysander. Hellenica Oxy-
rhynchia psi 1304 fr. b Kol. ii,’ APapyrol 8–9 (1996–1997), 41–45.
Luppino-Manes, E., Egemonia di terra ed egemonia di mare. Tracce del dibattito nella
storiografia tra v e iv sec. a.C. (Alessandria, 2000).
Macleod, C.W., Collected Essays (Oxford, 1983).
Magnelli, A., ‘POxy v 842 coll. ix–x: una proposta di lettura,’ in S. Bianchetti and
M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a cinquanta anni
dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La Spezia, 2001),
155–165.
Magnelli, A., ‘Lo storico di Ossirinco: il più antico continuatore delle storie di Tucidide,’
ral 17 (2006), 41–73.
Malitz, J., Die Historien des Poseidonius, Zetemata 79 (München, 1983).
Malkin, I., Myth and Territory in the Spartan Mediterranean (Cambridge, 1994).
March, D.A., ‘Konon and the Great King’s Fleet, 396–394,’ Historia 46 (1997), 257–269.
Marincola, J., ‘Genre, Convention, and Innovation in Greco-Roman Historiography,’
in Ch.S. Kraus (ed.), The Limits of Historiography. Genre and Narrative in Ancient
Historical Textes (Leiden-Boston-Köln, 1999), 281–324.
Marincola, J., ‘Universal History from Ephorus to Diodorus,’ in J. Marincola (ed.), A
Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography (Oxford, 2007), 171–179.
Marincola, J., ‘Intertextuality and Exempla,’ Histos Working Papers (2011), 1–31.
Mariotta, G., ‘I Frammenti Fiorentini e la storia di Taso (una nuova ipotesi per psi 1304
fr. c),’ in S. Bianchetti and M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di
Ossirinco a cinquanta anni dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999,
Sileno 27 (La Spezia, 2001), 167–174.
Mariotta, G., ‘Frammenti papiracei riferibili alle Elleniche di Ossirinco: il problema
delle copie nella prospettiva della paternità,’ in V. Costa (ed.) Tradizione e trasmis-
sione degli storici greci frammentari ii. Atti del Terzo Workshop Internazionale Roma,
24–26 Febbraio 2011 (Tivoli, 2012), 139–154.
Mariotta, G., ‘Cronologia achemenide in Diodoro Siculo e l’“ottavo anno” delle Elleniche
di Ossirinco,’ Maia 67 (2015), 507–514.
Marzolff, P., ‘Die Flußgrenze,’ in E. Olshausen and H. Sonnabend (eds), Stuttgarter
Kolloquium zur historischen Geographie des Altertums, Geographica Historica 4 1990
(Amsterdam, 1994), 347–362.
278 bibliography

Mayrhofer, M., Supplement zur Sammlung der altpersischen Inschriften (Vienna, 1978).
Mazzarino, S., Il pensiero storico classico, vol. 1 (Roma-Bari, 1965).
Mazzarino, S., Il pensiero storico classico, vol. 2 (Roma-Bari, 1966).
Mazzini, I., ‘Struttura e stile delle interpolazioni al primo e secondo libro delle Elleniche
senofontee,’ qucc 11 (1971), 77–95.
McKay, K.L., ‘The Oxyrhynchus Historian and the Outbreak of the Corinthian War,’ cr
3 (1953), 6–7.
Mei, M., ‘Endios,’ np 3 (1997), 1026.
Meister, C., Die Gnomik im Geschichtswerk des Thukydides (Zurich, 1955).
Meister, K., La storiografia greca. Dalle origini alla fine dell’Ellenismo (Bari, 1992).
Moggi, M., ‘‘Stasis’, ‘prodosia’ e ‘polemos’ in Tucidide,’ cisa 25 (1999), 41–72.
Momigliano, A.D., ‘Un momento di storia greca: la pace del 375 e il Plataico di Isocrate,’
Athenaeum 14 (1936), 3–35 = A.D. Momigliano (ed.), Terzo contributo alla storia degli
studi classici e del mondo antico, 1 (Roma, 1966), 421–455.
Momigliano, A.D., ‘Tradizione e invenzione in Ctesia,’ ar 12 (1931), 15–44 = in A.D. Momi-
gliano (ed.), Quarto contributo alla storia degli studi classici e del mondo antico
(Roma, 1969), 181–212.
Momigliano, A.D., ‘Androzione e le Elleniche di Ossirinco,’ aat 66 (1931), 29–49 = in
A.D. Momigliano (ed.), Sesto contributo alla storia degli studi classici e del mondo
antico, 2 (Roma, 1980), 801–819.
Momigliano, A.D., ‘The Historians of the Classical World and Their Audiences: Some
Suggestions,’ asnp 8 (1978), 59–75 = in A.D. Momigliano (ed.), Sesto contributo alla
storia degli studi classici e del mondo antico, 2 (Roma, 1980), 361–376.
Momigliano, A.D., The Classical Foundations of Modern Historiography (Berkeley-Los
Angeles-Oxford, 1990).
Mosley, D.J., Envoys and Diplomacy in Ancient Greece (Wiesbaden, 1973).
Mossé, C., ‘La bataille de Notion dans la Vie d’Alcibiade de Plutarque,’ in S. Bianchetti
and M.R. Cataudella (eds), Atti del Convegno Le Elleniche di Ossirinco a cinquanta
anni dalla pubblicazione dei Frammenti Fiorentini 1949–1999, Sileno 27 (La Spezia,
2001), 189–192.
Muratore, D., ‘Note sulla seconda spedizione ateniese in Sicilia,’ in S. Cataldi (ed.) Plous
es Sikelian. Ricerche sulla seconda spedizione ateniese in Sicilia (Alessandria, 1992),
37–62.
Murray, G., Greek Studies (Oxford, 1946).
Murray, O., ‘Herodotus and Hellenistic Culture,’ cq 22 (1972), 200–213.
Musti, D., I Greci e l’Italia, in Storia di Roma i. Roma in Italia (Torino, 1988).
Münsterberg, R., Die Beamtennamen auf den griechischen Münzen (Wien, 1914).
Myres, J.L., Herodotus, Father of History (Oxford, 1953).
Nellen, D., ‘Zur Darstellung der Schlacht bei Sardes in den Quellen,’ AncSoc 3 (1972),
45–54.
Nicolai, R., ‘Senofonte e Tucidide: una ricezione in negativo,’ in V. Fromentin, S. Got-
bibliography 279

teland and P. Payen (eds), Ombres de Thucydide. La réception de l’historien depuis

l’Antiquité jusq’au début du xxe siècle. Actes des colloques de Bordeaux, les 16–17 mars
2007, de Bordeaux, les 30–31 mai 2008 et de Toulouse, les 23–25 octobre 2008 (Bordeaux,
2010), 279–289.
Nussbaum, G.B., The Ten Thousand. A Study in Social Organization and Action in Xeno-
phon’s Anabasis (Leiden, 1967).
Occhipinti, E., ‘Political Conflicts in Chios between the End of the 5th and the First Half
of the 4th Century b.c.,’ ahb 24 (2010), 23–43.
Occhipinti, E., ‘Aristotele, Teopompo e la politica macedone,’ Klio 93, 2 (2011), 291–307.
Occhipinti, E., ‘Teopompo e la Sicilia,’ Klio 95 (2013 a), 84–179.
Occhipinti, E., ‘The Ships in the Battle of Notion: A New Supplement for Lines 9–12 of
the Florence Papyrus (psi 1304),’ zpe 187 (2013 b), 72–76.
Occhipinti, E., ‘A Supplement for Col. ii of P. Oxy. ii 302 and a Few Stylistic Observa-
tions,’ apf 60 (2014 a), 25–33.
Occhipinti, E., ‘A New Supplement for Lines 31–32 of the Theramenes Papyrus (P. Mich.
5982),’ apf 60 (2014 b), 34–44.
Orsi, D.P., Sull’ordinamento della Beozia da Coronea alla pace di Antalcida (P. Oxy. 842,
colonne xi–xiv) (Bari, 1974).
Orsi, D.P., ‘La boule dei Tebani,’ qs 25 (1987), 125–144.
Orsi, D.P. and M. Manfredini, Plutarco. Le vite di Arato e di Artaserse (Firenze, 1987),
xxxv–xxxix.
Ottone, G., ‘La critica a Eforo e Teopompo. Nuove prospettive ermeneutiche a proposito
del f 1 di Duride di Samo,’ in V. Naas and M. Simon (eds), De Samos à Rome:
personnalité et influence de Douris, Paris: Presses Universitaires de Paris Ouest (Paris,
2015), 209–242.
Palm, J., Über Sprache und Stil des Diodoros von Sizilien. Ein Beitrag zur Beleuchtung der
hellenistischen Prosa (Lund, 1955).
Pareti, L., ‘Cratippo e le “Elleniche” di Oxyrhynchos,’ sifc 19 (1912–1913), 398–517.
Parker, R., ‘Sacrifice and Battle,’ in Hans van Wees (ed.), War and Violence in Ancient
Greece (London, 2000), 299–314.
Parker, R., ‘One Man’s Piety: The Religious Dimension of the Anabasis,’ in R. Lane Fox
(ed.), The Long March. Xenophon and the Ten Thousand (New Haven-London, 2004),
131–153.
Parmeggiani, G., ‘Diodoro e la crisi delle egemonie,’ in C. Bearzot (ed.), Diodoro e l’altra
Grecia (Milano, 2005), 67–103.
Parmeggiani, G., Eforo di Cuma. Studi di storiografia greca (Bologna, 2011).
Pearson, L., ‘The Outbreak of the Peloponensian War,’ TAPhA 83 (1952), 205–223.
Pédech, P., Polybe, Histories. Livre xii (Paris, 1961).
Pédech, P., Trois historiens méconnus. Théopompe, Duris, Phylarque (Paris, 1989).
Pelling, C.B.R., Plutarch Life of Antony (Cambridge, 1988).
280 bibliography

Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Thucydides’ Archidamus and Herodotus’ Artabanus,’ in M. Flower and

M. Toher (eds), Georgica. Greek Studies in Honour of George Cawkwell, Bulletin Sup-
plement 58 (London, 1991), 120–142.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘East Is East and West Is West—Or Are They? National Stereotypes in
Herodotus,’ Histos 1 (1997 a), 51–66.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Conclusion,’ in C.B.R. Pelling (ed.), Greek Tragedy and the Historian
(Oxford, 1997 b), 213–236.
Pelling, C.B.R., Literary Texts and the Greek Historian (Oxford, 2000).
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Ion’s Epidemiai and Plutarch’s Ion,’ in V. Jennings and A. Katsaros (eds),
The World of Ion of Chios (Leiden-Boston, 2007 a), 75–109.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Aristagoras (5.49–55, 97),’ in E. Irwin and E. Greenwood (eds), Reading
Herodotus. A Study of the Logoi in Book 5 of Herodotus’ Histories (Cambridge, 2007 b),
179–201.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘The Greek Historians of Rome,’ in J. Marincola (ed.), A Companion to
Greek and Roman Historiography (Oxford, 2007 c), 244–258.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘The Spur of Fame: Annals 4.37–38,’ in Ch.S. Kraus, J. Marincola and
C.B.R. Pelling (eds), Ancient Historiography and Its Contents (Oxford, 2010), 364–384.
Pelling, C.B.R., Plutarch and History: Eighteen Studies (Swansea, 2011 a).
Pelling, C.B.R., Plutarch Caesar. Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by
C.B.R. Pelling (Oxford, 2011 b).
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Aristotle’s Rhetoric, the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum, and the Speeches
in Herodotus and Thucydides,’ in E. Foster and D. Lateiner (eds), Thucydides and
Herodotus (Oxford, 2012 a), 281–315.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Historical Explanation,’ in S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth (eds), The
Oxford Classical Dictionary (Oxford, 2012 b), 561–562.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Xenophon’s and Caesar’s Third-Person Narratives—Or Are They?,’ in
A. Marmodoro and J. Hill (eds), The Author’s Voice in Classical Antiquity (Oxford,
2013 a), 39–73.
Pelling, C.B.R., ‘Intertexuality, Plausibility, and Interpretation,’ Histos 7 (2013 b), 1–20.
Perlman, S., ‘The Politicians in the Athenian Democracy of the Fourth Century b.c.,’
Athenaeum 41 (1963), 327–355.
Perlman, S., ‘The Causes and the Outbreak of the Corinthian War,’ cq 14 (1964), 64–81.
Perlman, S., ‘Athenian Democracy and the Revival of Imperialistic Expansion at the
Beginning of the Fourth Century b.c.,’ CPh 63 (1968), 257–267.
Pesely, G.E., ‘The Speech of Endius in Diodorus Siculus 13.52.3–8,’ CPh 80 (1985), 320–
321.
Piérart, M., ‘Argos, Philippe ii et la Cynourie (Thyréatide): les frontières du partage
des Héraclides,’ in R. Frei-Stolba and K. Gex (eds), Recherches récentes sur le monde
hellénistique. Actes du colloque international organisé à l’occasion du 60e anniversaire
de Pierre Ducrey, Lausanne, 20–21 novembre 1998 (Bern, 2001), 27–41.
bibliography 281

Pintaudi, R. (ed.), ‘Le Elleniche di Ossirinco. Appunti delle lezioni di storia greca tenute
dal Prof. G. de Sanctis,’ qs 57 (2003), 5–95.
Podoksik, E., ‘Justice, Power, and Athenian Imperialism: An Ideological Moment in
Thucydides’ “History”,’ HPth 26 (2005), 21–42.
Pontier, P., ‘Xenophon and the Persian Kiss,’ in F. Hobden and C. Tuplin (eds), Xenophon:
Ethical Principles and Historical Enquiry (Leiden-Boston, 2012), 611–639.
Pownall, F.S., Lessons from the Past: The Moral Use of History in Fourth-Century Prose
(Ann Arbor, 2004).
Pownall, F.S., ‘Duris of Samos and the Diadochi,’ in V. Alonso Troncoso and E.M. Anson
(eds), After Alexander: The Time of the Diadochi (323–281bc) (Oxford-Oakville, 2013),
43–56.
Pritchett, W.K., The Greek State at War, vol. 1 (Berkeley-Los Angeles-London, 1971).
Pusey, P.E., Sancti Patris Nostri Cyrilli Archiepiscopi Alexandrini In D. Joannis Evan-
gelium, vol. 1 (Oxford, 1872).
Radt, S.L., ‘Noch einmal Aischylos, Niobe Fr. 162 n.2 (278 m.),’ zpe 38 (1980), 47–58.
Ragone, G., ‘L’Imitatio Agamemnonis di Agesilao fra Aulide ed Efeso,’ mgr 20 (1996),
21–49.
Raubitschek, A.E., ‘Die sogenannten Interpolationen in den ersten beiden Büchern von
Xenophons Griechischer Geschichte,’ in Akten des vi. Internationalen Kongresses für
Griechische und Lateinische Epigraphik, München 1972, Vestigia, vol. 17 (München,
1973), 315–325.
Reichel, M., ‘Xenophon’s “Cyropaedia” and the Hellenistic Novel,’ in H. Hofmann (ed.)
Groningen Colloquia on the Novel, vol. 6 (Groningen, 1995), 1–20.
Rengakos, A., ‘Strategien der Geschichtsdarstellung bei Herodot und Thukydides—
oder: vom Ursprung der Historiographie aus dem Geist des Epos,’ in V. Borsò and
C. Kann (eds), Geschichtsdarstellung. Medien—Methode—Strategien, (Köln, 2004),
73–99.
Reuss, F., ‘Bericht über die griechischen Historiker mit Ausschluss des Herodot, Thuky-
dides und Xenophon, 1905 bis 1908,’ Jahresb. über die Fortschritte d. Altertumswiss.
142 (1909), 1–225.
Rhodes, P.J., A Commentary on the Aristotelian Athenaion Politeia (Oxford, 1981).
Rhodes, P.J., Atthis (Heidelberg, 2014).
Richards, H., ‘Un-Aristotelian Words and Phrases,’ cr 5 (1891), 184.
Riedinger, J.-C., Étude sur les Helléniques. Xénophon et l’histoire (Paris, 1991).
Robert, F., ‘Prophasis,’ reg 89 (1976), 317–342.
Roesch, P., Thespies et la confédération béotienne (Paris, 1965).
Rood, T., Thucydides. Narrative and Explanation (Oxford, 1998).
Rood, T., ‘Xenophon and Diodorus: Continuing Thucydides,’ in C.J. Tuplin (ed.), Xeno-
phon and His World. Papers from a Conference Held in Liverpool in July 1999, Historia
Einzelschriften, vol. 172 (Stuttgart, 2004 a), 341–395.
282 bibliography

Rood, T., ‘Panhellenism and Self-Presentation: Xenophon’s Speeches,’ in R. Lane Fox

(ed.), The Long March. Xenophon and the Ten Thousand (New Haven-London, 2004
b), 305–329.
Rood, T., ‘The Plupast in Xenophon’s Hellenica,’ in J. Grethlein and C.B. Krebs (eds),
Time and Narrative in Ancient Historiography. The Plupast from Herodotus to Appian
(Cambridge, 2012), 76–94.
Rubincam, C., ‘The Theban Attack on Plataia: Herodotos 7.233.2 and Thucydides 2.2.1
& 5.8–9,’ lcm 6 (1981), 47–49.
Rung, E., ‘Xenophon, the Oxyrhynchus Historian and the Mission of Timocrates to
Greece,’ in C.J. Tuplin (ed.) Xenophon and His World. Papers from a Conference
Held in Liverpool in July 1999, Historia Einzelschriften, vol. 172 (Stuttgart, 2004), 413–
426.
Ruschenbusch, E., ‘Theopompea: ἀντιπολιτεύεϲθαι,’ zpe 39 (1980), 81–90.
Ruschenbusch, E., ‘Atthis und Politeia,’ Hermes 109 (1981), 316–326.
Ruschenbusch, E., ‘Theopompea ii: Theopomps Hellenika als Quelle in Aristoteles ap,’
zpe 45 (1982), 91–94.
Russell, D.A., ‘On Reading Plutarch’s Lives,’ in B. Scardigli (ed.), Essays on Plutarch’s Lives
(Oxford, 1995), 75–94.
Rusten, J.S., ‘Thucydides and His Readers,’ in J.S. Rusten (ed.), Oxford Readings in
Classical Studies. Thucydides (Oxford, 2009), 1–28.
Rutherford, R.B., ‘Learning from History: Categories and Case-Histories,’ in R. Osborne
and S. Hornblower (eds), Ritual, Finance, Politics: Athenian Democratic Accounts
Presented to David Lewis (Oxford, 1994), 53–68.
Ryder, T.T.B., ‘Demosthenes and Philip ii,’ in I. Worthington (ed.), Demosthenes: States-
man and Orator (London-New York, 2000), 45–89.
Sacks, K.S., Diodorus Siculus and the First Century (Princeton, 1990).
Sacks, K.S., ‘Diodorus and His Sources: Conformity and Creativity,’ in S. Hornblower
(ed.), Greek Historiography (Oxford, 1994), 213–232.
Sancho-Rocher, L., ‘El δῆμος y la στάσις en la obra de Tucídides,’Ktèma 15 (1990), 195–215.
Sancisi-Weerdenburg, H., ‘The Death of Cyrus: Xenophon’s Cyropaedia as a Source for
Iranian History,’ in V.J. Gray (ed.), Oxford Readings in Classical Studies (Oxford, 2010),
439–453.
Sartori, F., ‘Sulla δυναστεία di Dionisio il Vecchio nell’opera diodorea,’ Critica Storica 5
(1966), 3–61.
Scheliha, R. von, Die Wassergrenze im Altertum (Breslau, 1931).
Scheller, P., De hellenistica historiae conscribendae arte (Leipzig, 1911).
Schepens, G., ‘L’apogée de l’“arché” spartiate comme époque historique dans l’historio-
graphie grecque du début du ive s. av. j.-c.,’ AncSoc 24 (1993), 195–202.
Schepens, G., ‘Ἀρετή versus ἡγεμονία. Theopompus on Problems of the Spartan Empire,’
in D. Ambaglio, C. Bearzot and R. Vattuone (eds), Atti del Congresso Storiografia
bibliography 283

locale e storiografia universale. Forme di acquisizione del sapere storico nella cultura
antica, Bologna, 16–18 dicembre 1999 (Como, 2001 a), 529–565.
Schepens, G., ‘Three Voices on the History of a Difficult Relationship. Xenophon’s
Evaluation of Athenian and Spartan Identities in Hellenica vi 3,’ in C. Bearzot,
F. Landucci, L. Prandi and G. Zecchini (eds), Identità e valori. Fattori di aggregazione
e fattori di crisi nell’Esperienza politica antica. Bergamo 16–18 dicembre 1998 (Roma,
2001 b), 81–96.
Schepens, G., ‘History and Historia: Inquiry in the Greek Historians,’ in J. Marincola
(ed.), A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography (Oxford, 2007), 39–55.
Schepens, G., ‘Timocrates’ Mission to Greece—Once Again,’ in F. Hobden and C.J. Tup-
lin (eds), Xenophon: Ethical Principles and Historical Enquiry (Leiden-Boston, 2012),
213–241.
Schmitt, R., ‘Die Wiedergabe iranischer Namen bei Ktesias von Knidos im Vergleich
zur sonstigen griechischen Überlieferung,’ in J. Harmatta (ed.), Prolegomena to the
Sources on the History of Pre-Islamic Central Asia (Budapest, 1979), 119–133.
Schmitzer, U., ‘Sieben Thebaner gegen Theben. Bemerkungen zur Darstellungsform in
Xenophon, Hell. 5,4,1–12,’ wja 22 (1998), 123–139.
Schuller, S., ‘About Thucydides’ Use of ἈΙΤΙΑ and ΠΡΟΦΑΣΙΣ,’ RBPh 34 (1956), 971–984.
Schwartz, E., ‘Kallisthenes Hellenika,’ Hermes 35 (1900), 106–130.
Schwartz, E., ‘Die Zeit des Ephoros,’ Hermes 44 (1909), 481–502.
Schwartz, E., ‘Die messenische Geschichte bei Pausanias,’ Philologus 92 (1937), 19–46.
Seager, R.J., ‘Thrasybulus, Conon and Athenian Imperialism (396–386),’ jhs 87 (1967),
95–115.
Seager, R.J., ‘Agesilaus in Asia: Propaganda and Objectives,’ lcm 2 (1977), 183–184.
Shayegan, M.R., Aspects of History and Epic in Ancient Iran from Gaumāta to Wahnām
(Washington dc, 2012).
Shear, J., Polis and Revolution: Responding to Oligarchy in Classical Athens (Cambridge,
2011).
Shrimpton, G.S., ‘The Theban Supremacy in Fourth-Century Literature,’ Phoenix 25
(1971), 310–318.
Shrimpton, G.S., ‘Theopompus’ Treatment of Philip in the Philippica,’ Phoenix 31 (1977),
123–144.
Shrimpton, G.S., Theopompus the Historian (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1991).
Siegel, H., ‘Agamemnon in Euripides’ Iphigenia at Aulis,’ Hermes 109 (1981), 257–265.
Simon, W., ‘Epikrates,’ np 3 (1997), 1121.
Sordi, M., ‘I caratteri dell’opera storiografica di Senofonte nelle Elleniche, 2,’ Athenaeum
29 (1951), 273–348.
Sordi, M., La lega tessala fino ad Alessandro Magno (Roma, 1958).
Sordi, M., ‘Aspetti del federalismo greco arcaico: autonomia e egemonia nel koinon
beotico,’ a&r (1968), 66–75.
284 bibliography

Spyridakis, K., Evagoras i von Salamis. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des kyprischen
Königs (Stuttgart, 1935).
Stadter, P.A., ‘Paradoxical Paradigms. Lysander and Sulla,’ in P.A. Stadter (ed.), Plutarch
and the Historical Tradition (London-New York, 1992), 41–53.
Stadter, P.A., ‘Staying up Late: Plutarch’s Reading of Xenophon,’ in F. Hobden and
C. Tuplin (eds), Xenophon: Ethical Principles and Historical Enquiry (Leiden-Boston,
2012), 43–62.
Stahl, H.-P., Thucydides. Man’s Place in History (Swansea, 2003).
Starr, C.G., ‘Greeks and Persians in the Fourth Century b.c., Part i,’ Iranica Antiqua 11
(1975), 39–99.
Ste Croix, G.E.M. de, ‘The Political Outlook of Aristophanes,’ in E. Segal (ed.), Oxford
Readings in Aristophanes (Oxford-New York, 1996), 42–64.
Stem, R., ‘The Thirty at Athens in the Summer of 404,’ Phoenix 57 (2003), 18–34.
Stonecipher, A.H.M., Graeco-Persian Names (New York-Chicago, 1918).
Strasburger, H., ‘Posidonius on the Problems of the Roman Empire,’ jhs 55 (1965), 40–
53.
Strasburger, H., Die Wesensbestimmung der Geschichte durch die antike Geschichts-
schreibung (Wiesbaden, 1966).
Strauss, B.S., ‘Thrasybulus and Conon. A Rivalry in Athens in the 390s b.c.,’ AJPh 105
(1984), 37–48.
Strauss, B.S., Athens after the Peloponnesian War. Class, Faction and Policy 403–386bc
(London-Sidney, 1986).
Stylianou, P.J., ‘How Many Naval Squadrons Did Athens Send to Evagoras?,’ Historia 37
(1988), 463–471.
Stylianou, P.J., A Historical Commentary on Diodorus Siculus, Book 15 (Oxford, 1998).
Stylianou, P.J., ‘One Anabasis or Two?,’ in R. Lane Fox, The Long March. Xenophon and
the Ten Thousand (New Haven-London, 2004), 68–96.
Sulimani, I., Diodorus’ Mythistory and the Pagan Mission (Leiden-Boston, 2011).
Swoboda, H., ‘Studien zur Verfassung Boiotiens,’ Klio 10 (1910), 315–334.
Syme, R., The Roman Revolution (Oxford, 1939).
Thomas, R., Herodotus in Context. Ethnography, Science and the Art of Persuasion (Cam-
bridge, 2000).
Todd, S.C., A Commentary on Lysias, Speeches 1–11 (Oxford, 2007).
Treu, M., ‘Einwände gegen die Demokratie in der Literatur des 5./4. Jh.,’ StudClas 12
(1970), 17–31.
Tsagalis, C.C., ‘Names and Narrative Techniques in Xenophon’s Anabasis,’ in J. Grethlein
and A. Rengakos (eds), Narratology and Interpretation. The Content of Narrative Form
in Ancient Literature (Berlin-New York, 2009), 451–479.
Tuplin, C.J., ‘Lysias xix, the Cypriot War and Thrasyboulos’ Naval Expedition,’Philologus
127 (1983), 170–186.
bibliography 285

Tuplin, C.J., The Failings of Empire. A Reading of Xenophon Hellenica 2.3.11–7.5.27 (Stutt-
gart, 1993).
Tuplin, C.J., Xenophon and His World. Papers from a Conference Held in Liverpool in July
1999, Historia Einzelschriften, vol. 172 (Stuttgart, 2004).
Tuplin, C.J., ‘Continuous Histories (Hellenica),’ in J. Marincola (ed.), A Companion to
Greek and Roman Historiography (Oxford, 2007), 159–170.
Turner, E.G., Athenian Books in the Fifth and Fourth Centuries b.c. (London, 1952).
Valente, M., I prodromi della Guerra di Corinto nelle testimonianze delle Elleniche di
Ossirinco e delle Elleniche di Senofonte (Alessandria, 2014).
Vannini, L., ‘Note sul Papiro di Teramene,’ sep 9 (2012), 87–95.
Vattuone, R., ‘koinai praxeis. Le dimensioni “universali” della storiografia greca fra
Erodoto e Teopompo,’ in L. Aigner Foresti, A. Barzanò, C. Bearzot, L. Prandi and
G. Zecchini (eds), Ecumenismo politico nella coscienza dell’Occidente. Bergamo 18–
21 settembre 1995 (Roma, 1998), 57–96.
Venezia, L., ‘L’Olimpica xii di Pindaro e la Hesychia,’ in G. Daverio Rocchi (ed.), Tra
concordia e pace. Parole e valori della Grecia antica (Milano, 2007), 267–279.
Wade-Gery, H.T., ‘Two Notes on Theopompos, Philippika x,’ ajp 59 (1938), 129–134.
Walbank, F.W., ‘Polemic in Polybius,’ jhs 52 (1967 a), 1–12.
Walbank, F.W., A Historical Commentary on Polybius, vol. 2 (Oxford, 1967 b).
Walker, E.M., ‘Cratippus or Theopompus?,’ Klio 8 (1908), 356–371.
Walker, E.M., The Hellenica Oxyrhynchia: Its Authorship and Authority (Oxford, 1913).
West, S., ‘Lycophron Italicised,’ jhs 104 (1984), 127–151.
Westlake, H.D., ‘Spartan Intervention in Asia, 400–397 b.c.,’ Historia 35 (1986 a), 405–
426.
Westlake, H.D., ‘Agesilaus in Diodorus,’ grbs 27 (1986 b), 263–277.
Westlake, H.D., ‘Diodorus and the Expedition of Cyrus,’ Phoenix 41 (1987), 241–254.
Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, U. von, ‘Die griechische Literatur des Altertums,’ in P. Hin-
neberg (ed.) Die Kultur der Gegenwart, vol. i 8 (Berlin-Leipzig, 1912), 3–318.
Wilcken, U., ‘Ein Theopompfragment in den neuen Hellenika,’ Hermes 43 (1908), 475–
477.
Wolpert, A., Remembering Defeat: Civil War and Civic Memory in Ancient Athens (Balti-
more, 2002).
Woodman, A.J., ‘Remarks on the Structure and Content of Tacitus, Annals 4. 57–67,’ cq
(1972), 150–158.
Woodman, A.J., Rhetoric in Classical Historiography (Portland, 1988).
Wylie, G., ‘Agesilaus and the Battle of Sardis,’ Klio 74 (1992), 118–130.
Youtie, H.C. and R. Merkelbach, ‘Ein Michigan-Papyrus über Theramenes,’zpe 2 (1968),
161–169.
Zoepffel, R., ‘Aristoteles und die Demagogen,’ Chiron 4 (1974), 69–90.
Index of Names

Abydos 83n88 Andocides 158–159

Achaemenes, Achaemenid 48, 112, 112n85 Androcleidas 25–28, 34, 95–96, 117, 135, 137,
Achilles 192n85 169n, 170, 177–178, 193, 199
Acoris (of Egypt) 19 Androcles 100n37
Acraephnium 131n43, 134n68, 139 Androtion 2–3, 82, 82n87, 154, 154n53
Adrastus 148–149 Antalcidas 19, 33, 60, 142n2, 145
Aegean Sea, Archipelago, islands, area, Antiochus 68–69, 69n41, 70, 70n47, 71–73,
scenario 18, 57, 121–122, 122n19, 126–127, 73n57, 74
208 Antiphon, On the Choreutes [6] 167, 133n61
Aegina 22, 99, 106, 123n23, 127, 139, 237 Antitheus 95, 117, 199
Aegospotami 113n90, 129, 142, 245 Anytus 97, 101, 155, 158, 158n69
Aegytis 151n47 Apia 139
Aelianus’ Varia Historia 53n103, 227 Apollo 118n8, 213
Aemilius Sura 263 Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica (schol.)
Aeolis 41n48, 208 235
Aeschines’ On the Embassy [2] 102n44, 155, Araxes (river) 120
159n72. Archestratus 253
Aeschylus, Persians 11, 146n24, 148n29, Archias 214
149n34 Archidamus (ii) 166n20
Aesimus 97, 158, 158n69 Archidamus (iii, son of Agesilaus) 214, 151
Aethra 94n16 Archinus 155, 158, 159n74
Agamemnon 19, 47, 47n75, 122, 122n19, 235 Areopagus 250
Agatharchides, Agatharchidean 67, 67n32 Argaeus 102
Agathocles 226 Arginusae 83, 154–155, 216
Agesilaus 1, 8, 10, 15, 22–23, 27, 31, 34–56, 58– Argos 32–33, 90, 133n61, 175
62, 64, 66, 66n27, 74, 83, 86, 116, 118n8, Ariaeus 36n27, 46, 46n72, 55n112
126–127, 137n82, 143, 151, 171, 173–174, 181, Ariaramnes 48
196, 207, 212–214, 226, 226n50, 227, 236, Aristagoras 93
242n8, 264–265 Aristides’s Leuktrikos [36] (and schol.) 237,
Agis 47n76, 128–129, 156, 156n60, 195, 220, 237n85
253–254 Aristophanes’s works
Agyrrhius 113, 113n93, 158–159 Acharnians 234n74, 260, 260n55
Alcibiades 68, 69n42, 73, 92–93, 156n60, 171, Clouds (schol.) 234n73
173, 175–177, 204n11, 209, 215–216, 234– Peace 234n74
235 Plutus 44n65
Alcmaeon 172n35, 233, 235 Wasps 133n61
Alexander (the Great) 17, 59, 85, 261 Aristophanes (politician) 107n66
Alexander (of Pherae) 103n52 Aristotle’s works
Amazons 148–150, 152 Athenaion Politeia 31n2, 45n67, 80–81,
Ammon 236 82nn84 and 87, 99n31, 100, 100n34,
Amphipolis 24, 102, 102nn44 and 49, 139, 101, 101n42, 131, 132nn49 and 51, 154,
179–180 154nn55–56, 155–156, 245n2
Amyntas 102n50 Ethics 100n34
Anaxibius 208 Politics 81n81, 100nn34–35, 136n75
Anaxilaus 215 Rhetoric 100n34, 123n23, 147n25, 150n43,
Anaximenes (of Lampsacus) 17 230n59
index of names 287

Arrian’s Anabasis of Alexander 84 Brasidas 176n48, 179, 179n, 180, 180n53, 181,
Arsames 48 186–189, 195, 210, 214
Artabanus 121, 121n17 Byzantium 129
Artaphernes 41n50
Artaxerxes (ii) 36, 36n27, 37, 55n112, 58, 112, Cadmea 4, 135, 139, 148, 185
114n95, 234 Calabria 260
Artemis 266 Callias 103
Asclepiades 19 Callicratidas 141, 141n, 236
Asia Minor 1, 8, 10, 15, 22, 31, 35, 35n18, 36, Callimachus 219n35
39–40, 41n48, 42n55, 46, 48, 48n78, Callisthenes 16, 59–60
49, 56, 77–78, 86, 89, 91n5, 93, 107, 114, Callistratus 207, 212, 225
118n8, 123, 123n25, 127, 139–140, 159, 174, Cambyses 48
181, 199, 207–208, 212–213, 227 Cappadocia 41, 46, 52, 56, 139
Asopus (river) 121 Caria 40, 40n46, 41, 41nn48 and 49, 43, 104
Aspasia 260 Carneades (of Cyrene) 261, 261n61
Assyria 263 Carthage 83–84, 262–263
Astias 26, 95 Cassius Dio 157
Athena 211 Cato 84, 262
Athenaeus 4, 53n103, 58, 218, 218n31, 219– Caunus 1, 22–23, 40, 40n46, 41, 41n50, 107–
222, 225–226, 233, 235 109, 127, 139, 191
Athens 1, 22, 22n31, 23n33, 26, 31, 33n10, Cayster (river and plain) 35, 61–62, 64, 139
42n57, 45, 45n68, 47n76, 79, 85, 89–90, Celaenae 50–51, 139, 264–265
92–94, 94nn16 and 19, 96–97, 99, 101– Cephalus 96–97, 113, 158–159
107, 102n50, 103n52, 105n62, 107n66, Cephisodotus 146, 212
112, 112n90, 113, 113nn91–92, 114n99, Chabrias 207
115n, 117–119, 121, 123–124, 124n30, 125, Chaeronea 131n43, 134n68, 139, 151n47
127–129, 129n37, 131–133, 135n72, 138– Chalcedon 129
139, 143n8, 144–146, 146nn20 and 24, Chalcidice 102n44
147–149, 149n36, 150, 152–153, 154nn53 Chalcis 131n46
and 55, 155–159, 159n74, 160–162, 164– Charidemus (of Oreus) 222
166, 166n20, 167, 169, 171, 173–174, Cheiricrates 108
176, 176n47, 185–188, 188n72, 189– (Rhodian) Chersonesus 40
190, 192–193, 196, 199–202, 205, 209, Chilon 122
211–216, 234, 236, 240–242, 245n2, Cicero’s De re publica 261
253, 259n52, 260–261, 261n61, 262– Cilicia 52, 139
263 Cillicon 219
Athos (Mount) 121 Cimon 146n24, 219–221, 226
Atthis 2, 36 Cinadon 191–192, 192n85
Attica 2, 47n76, 124nn28 and 29, 125, 139– Cius 139
140, 150, 186, 186n64, 246, 253 Clazomenae 68, 139
Aulis 47, 47n76, 118n8, 125, 135n72, 139, 213 Clearchus 129
Cleisthenes 80–81, 132, 133n61
Bacchylides 252n26 Cleomenes 90, 185
Barce 20 Cleon 92–93, 98, 100n37, 155n58, 158, 173,
Bayindir 35n21 174n41, 176n47, 180, 201–204, 214
Black Sea 126, 257 Cleonymous 214
Boeotia 25, 28, 32–33, 34n14, 46, 95, 118, 125, Cleophon 100, 154–155, 155n58, 158
130, 131n46, 136n73, 139–140, 143, 193, 210, Cligenes (of Acanthus) 136n80, 137n81
233–234 Clitophon 155
288 index of names

Cnidus 19, 27, 40, 112, 112n90, 113, 113n91, 114, Delos 91n5
142 Delphi 233
Coeratadas 95, 194, 199 Demaenetus 22, 22n31, 23, 97–99, 106, 115n,
Colossae 36n27 159
Conon 1, 15, 22, 22n31, 23, 23n34, 27, 27n37, Demaratus 91n6, 122, 185
28, 34, 36, 40, 40n46, 41n50, 43–45, 56, Demaratus (FGrHist 42) 149n36
59, 89, 99, 106–107, 107nn65–66, 108– Demeter 183
110, 113, 113nn90–93, 114, 114n95, 115, 115n, Demophon 150
116, 127, 141, 141n, 159, 173–174, 178, 191, Demosthenes (of Alcistenes) 180–182, 204
199 Demosthenes’ works
Copae 131n43, 134n68, 139 The Second Olynthiac [2] 102n46
Copais (lake) 131n43 The First Philippic [4] 102n44
Corcyra 123n22, 128, 141, 157n64, 165–166, 173, On the Peace [5] 189n78
194n91, 205, 209 The Third Philippic [9] 105n64
Coressus 78, 139, 266 The Fourth Philippic [10] 104, 104n59
Corinth 32, 128, 131n46, 173, 205, 211, 260n52 Philip’s Letter [12] 114n99
Coriolanus 232n66 On the Navy-Boards [14] 190
Coronea 131n43, 134n68, 139 For the People of Megalopolis [16] 190n82
Cos 19 Against Leptines [20] 112n88, 113n92
Cratippus 2–3, 3nn11 and 15–16, 16, 246n8, Against Phaenippus [42] 99n28
249, 258, 259n48 Against Timotheus [49] 143n8
Crete 232, 262 Funeral Speech [60] 148n30, 149n34,
Critolaus (Peripatetic) 261n61 150nn37–39
Croesus 90, 120, 120n16, 163, 209 De Persia (Anonymous) 112n84
Ctesias (of Cnidus) 32, 37, 37nn32 and 35, Dercylidas 40n46, 41n48, 42, 46, 208
40, 40n47, 46, 59n6, 111, 111n82, 112, Dicaearchus 259
112nn83 and 86, 113–114, 242, 262 Dinarchus’ Against Demosthenes [1] 102n44,
Cunaxa 55n112 112n88
Cyllene 195 Dinon (polemarch) 214
Cyprus 19, 40, 107n66, 110, 123, 139 Dio Chrysostom’ Orationes 259n52
Cypselus 223n Diodorus (Siculus) 3, 4, 7, 16, 27n38, 34,
Cyrene 20 34n17, 35, 35nn20 and 23, 36, 36n27,
Cyrus (the elder) 120, 120n16 37nn29 and 37, 38n38, 39, 41nn48–
Cyrus (the younger) 36, 36n27, 37, 41–42, 50, 43n60, 46n70, 49n85, 50, 50n86,
42n57, 43, 43n60, 44–46, 48, 52n101, 55, 51n97, 55, 57–59, 59n6, 60, 60n13, 61,
55n112, 56, 58–59, 109, 109n71, 110–112, 61nn15–16, 62–63, 63n, 64–67, 67n32,
143, 174, 196, 234, 257 68, 68n36, 69, 69n43, 70–72, 72n53,
Cythera 122–123, 123n22, 127 73, 73nn55–56, 74, 74nn60–61, 75, 75n,
Cyzicus 84, 99, 127, 139, 152, 155, 155n58, 156 78–79, 82, 82nn83 and 85, 83, 83n88,
84, 84n95, 85, 85n98, 86, 86n102, 99,
Daimachus (of Plataea) 2–3 99n31, 100, 101n38, 102nn44–45, 103n53,
Darius (i) 48, 260 105n64, 107nn66–67, 112n84, 113nn90
Dascylitis (lake) 52, 139 and 92, 114nn96 and 100–101, 137n82,
Dascylium 49, 52, 139 141–142, 142nn3–4, 144n9, 150n39, 152,
Daulis 139 152n49, 153–154, 154nn53 and 55, 155,
Decelea 18, 26, 116–117, 117n3, 118, 118n8, 124– 155nn56 and 58, 156, 156n61, 157, 160,
128, 130, 138–139, 154nn53 and 55, 156, 228, 232, 232n68, 233–234, 237n85,
213, 243 243, 245, 245n2, 255, 261–262, 264,
Deinon 32 265n
index of names 289

Diodotus 202–204, 214, 217 Heraclides 150, 148n29, 151n45

Diogenes (of Babylon) 261n61 Suppliant Women 93, 148n29, 150n39, 186
Diomedes 235 Europe 149, 223, 225
Dionysii (the elder and the younger) 17n14, Eurymachus (of Leontiades) 184, 194
46 Eurymedon (general with Demosthenes)
Dionysius (the elder) 44, 221, 107n66 204
Dionysius (the younger) 219, 237 Eurymedon (river) 103
Dionysius (of Halicarnassus) Eurystheus 148, 150–151, 151n44, 152
De Thucydide 175, 258n48 Eutresis 131n43, 139
Epistula ad Pompeium Geminum 18–21, Evagoras (of Cyprus) 19, 20, 44, 46, 107n66,
100n36, 231n61, 217–219 113n91, 114, 114n99
On the Composition of Words 258,
258n47 (the) Five Thousand 83n87
Roman Antiquities 231 Frontinus 35n20
Diphridas 207–208
Dorimachus 108, 191–192, 246 Gordium 22, 52, 139
Duris 16, 258, 258n45, 259 Gorgias’ Encomium of Helen 171n32
Gölcük 35n21
Egypt 123, 139–140, 255 Greece 1, 15, 22, 29, 40, 42n55, 43, 48, 78, 96n,
Elatea 139 111n80, 115–118, 123, 125, 129, 132, 137,
Eleusis 149, 149n36, 150 142–144, 146, 146n24, 147, 149, 169, 178,
Elis 47n76, 176, 195 186, 189, 190, 193, 194–195, 208, 220, 223,
Endius 84, 152, 152n50, 153–154, 154n53, 224n45, 227, 232, 237, 241, 260
155n58, 156, 156n61 Gyges 53nn104–106
Enyalius 182 Gylippus 94n19, 236
Epaminondas 129, 232n68, 234
Ephesus 35, 35n21, 36n23, 41, 41nn48–49, Hagnias 99
49–50, 61, 69n41, 72, 75–77, 77n69, 78, Haliartus 131n43, 134n68, 139
83, 139, 266 Halys (river) 41, 120
Ephorus (of Cyme) 2, 2n8, 3, 3nn16–17, 4–5, Harpocration 225
8, 34, 58–60, 66, 68, 82n85, 83, 85–86, Hector 192n85
152, 198, 206–207, 228, 228n52, 229–234, Hellanicus 112, 112n83
234n76, 235–237, 237n85, 238–239, 243, Hellas 22, 29, 126n, 128, 139–140, 146n24
246, 246n8, 247, 256–259 Hellenica Oxyrhynchia (ho)
Epicrates 158, 159n71 London Papyrus (p. Oxy. v 842) 1–2, 2n8,
Epipolae 98, 179 22n30, 31n1, 41nn50–51, 53n102, 57, 57n1,
Epirus 128 63n, 71, 89n, 107n66, 116, 126, 131n45,
Erechtheus (king) 149, 149n36 194n91, 243n, 247n9
Erythrae 125, 131n43, 134n68, 135, 135nn69 Florence Papyrus (psi xiii 1304) 1, 2n4,
and 72, 139 7n29, 57, 57n1, 68, 68n36, 69–72, 73n55,
Eteocles 185 126, 182, 243, 243n, 247n9
Eteonicus 127 Cairo Papyrus (26 6 sr 3049, 27 1) 1, 2n4,
Eubulus 220–221, 225 57, 57n1, 71, 75, 77n72, 126, 243n, 266
Eucles (of Hippon) 266 Theramenes Papyrus (p. Mich. 5982 and p.
Eumolpus 148, 149n36, 150, 152 Mich. 5796b) 1, 1n2, 3n10, 4–5, 5n21,
Eunomus 107n66 7n29, 79n, 101, 101n41, 156n59, 245–247,
Euphron (of Sycion) 133, 184, 216 249
Euripides’ works p. Oxy. ii 302, p. Oxy. xi 1365, p. Oxy. xiii
Erechtheus 149, 149n36 1610 1, 5, 58
290 index of names

Hellespont 50, 54, 120–121, 129, 139 Ilion 263

Heraclea 144 Io 163
Heracles 148, 151 Ion (of Chios) 146n24
(the) Heraclides 148–151, 151n47, 185, 236, Ionia 40, 41n48, 77n69, 91n5, 139–140
266 Iphicrates 102n49, 143n8, 146, 207, 207n19
Heraclides (of Aristogenes) 266 Iphigeneia 47, 47n75
Herippidas 55n112 Isaeus’ On the Estate of Astyphilus [9]
Hermes 44n65 99n29
Hermippus 174n41 Ismenias 25–26, 28, 34, 95, 117, 135, 137, 177–
Hermocrates 17n14, 173 178, 188, 194, 199
Hermus (river) 37n37, 61 Isocrates’s works
Herodotus 8n30, 11, 15, 20, 23–24, 29, 29n, To Nicocles [2] 256
30, 36n23, 37, 48, 67, 67n28, 90, 90n3, Panegyricus [4] 99n28, 109n72, 113n90,
91n6, 93, 98n26, 100n36, 111, 111n80, 114n99, 145, 148n30, 150nn38–39, 151–
112, 112n83, 120, 120n16, 121–122, 122n19, 152, 188, 188n72
123–124, 127, 133n61, 136n75, 138, 144, To Philip [5] 143n7, 256, 256n39
144n12, 145, 145n15, 147n24, 148n27, 150, Archidamus [6] 148n30, 151
150n40, 152n49, 162–163, 165n16, 167, Areopagiticus [7] 45n67, 81n81
172n39, 173, 184–185, 209, 209n20, 210, On the Peace [8] 103, 103n54, 104
223n, 226, 235, 237, 237n85, 240, 242, Evagoras [9] 112nn88 and 90, 114n99
252n26, 259, 259n52, 260, 260nn54–55, Panathenaicus [12] 142, 149n36, 151,
262 152n48, 188n72, 255–256, 256n38, 257,
Hesiod 120 257nn40–42, 258n46
Hieronymus (Conon’s lieutenant) 107n66, Plataicus [14] 186–188, 188n72
108, 191 Antidosis [15] 102n44, 256n39
Hieronymus (of Cardia) 66 Isthmus (of Corinth) 150, 187
Hippocrates 172 Italy 123, 128, 260
Hippocratics, Hippocratic corpus Iustinus 35n20, 48n78, 112n89, 114n96
Airs, Waters, Places 171n33
Ancient Medicine 172 Jason (of Pherae) 43, 84, 136n80, 142–143,
Aphorisms 164n11 143nn7–8, 144, 153, 208
(The) Art 171
(The) Coan Praenotions 164n9 Karabel (pass, route) 35, 35nn21 and 23,
Epidemics 164n9 61
Prorrhetic 164nn9 and 12 Karanis 246
(On) Regimen in Acute Diseases 164nn9 Kilbian (plain) 78, 139
and 11
(The) Sacred Disease 171 Laelius 261n60
Homer’s works Lampsacus 17, 129
Iliad 122n19, 133n60, 192n85, 211n Lebadea 131n43, 134n68, 139
Odyssey (and schol.) 133n60, 252n26 Leonidas 91n6, 185
Horace 84 Leontiades 25–26, 45, 95, 117, 184, 188–189,
Hyampolis 139 193–195, 199
Hyettus 131n43, 134n68 Leonton Cephalae 52, 139
Hypaepa 35nn21 and 23 Leonymus 107n66, 109, 110
Hyperbolus 158 Leptines 129, 147
Hyperides’ Against Athenogenes [3] 45n67 Lesbos 76, 78, 141
Hysiae 131n43, 134n68, 139 Leuctra 137n82, 143–144, 146, 151, 210, 212,
Hystaspes 48 214
index of names 291

Libya 236 Marcellinus’ The Life of Thucydides 2n9,

Livy 16 259n52
Locris 26, 33, 102n43, 137, 139, 169, 178 Mardonius 48, 227
Longinus’ De sublimitate 225 Mausolus (of Caria) 104
Lucian’s works Meidias 211
De parasito 252n26 Media 263
Herodotus 259n52 Megabates 52, 52n101
How to Write History 232 Megalopolis 151n47, 190n82
Lycia 19 Megaphernes 46
Lycomedes 211 Megara 68n36, 94n19, 131n46, 179, 180n53,
Lycophron’s Alexandra 261n56 181–182
Lycurgus (lawgiver) 233 Megaris 154n53
Lycurgus’s Against Leocrates [1] 149n36 Meidias 211
Lydia 55n112 Melesigenes 237
Lysander 48, 48n78, 68–69, 69nn41–42, 70– Melos 127, 203
73, 73n57, 74, 77, 79–80, 82, 85, 129, 141n, Menelaus 233
212, 220, 225n46, 227, 236, 245n2, 249, Messene 151
253–254 Methone 102n44
Lysias’ works Miletou Teichos 52, 55, 139
Funeral Oration [2] 113nn90 and 94, Miletus 40, 77
144n10, 148n30, 149n34, 150, 150nn38– Milon 99, 106, 127
39, 151, 151n44, 187n68 Minoa 182
Against Simon [3] 94n17 Minos 122n19
On the Olive Stump [7] 94n17 Mnasippus 209
For the Soldier [9] 94n17 Mopsus 19
Against Eratosthenes [12] 82n85, 101n40, Mycalessus 204n11
245n1, 249, 249n13, 250 Myndos (man or town) 182
Against Agoratus [13] 94n17, 158n69, Mysia 47n75, 55, 139
249n13, 253n30 Mytilene 141, 179n, 201–202
On the Property of Aristophanes [19]
107n66 Naucleides 184, 194
Against the Corn-Dealers [22] 94n17 Naupactus 204
Defence Against a Charge of Subverting the Nausinicus (stele) 143n8
Democracy [25] 100n35 Nepos’ works
On the Scrutiny of Evandros [26] 94n17 Agesilaus 35n20, 41n53, 49n85
Against Epicrates and His Fellow-Envoys Conon 112n89, 114n96
[27] 105n61, 100n35 Nicias 94n19, 98, 160, 176–177, 204n11
Against Ergocles [28] 94n17 Nicocles 226
Against Philocrates [29] 94n17 Nicophemus 107n66, 108, 191
Against Nicomachus [30] 81n81 Nile 237
Olympic Oration [33] 113n90 Nisaea 68n36
Notion 57, 68–69, 70n47, 72–73, 73n55,
Macedonia 102, 102nn44 and 49–50, 142, 82
143n7, 223, 225, 263 Nymphaeum 35n23
Maeander (river) 50, 66, 127, 139, 265
Magnesia 41n48, 139, 235 (the) Old Oligarch 121–124
Mania 211 (Mysian) Olympus 39, 139
Mantinea 60, 100n37, 127, 176 Olynthus 60, 105n64, 136, 136n80, 137, 207,
Marathon 150, 163 209
292 index of names

Orchomenus 131n43, 134n68, 139 Phoenicia 41n49, 52, 139

Otys, Thys, Gyes 53, 53nn103–106, 54, Phormisius 155
54n109, 55n112 Photius 19, 67
Ovid 84 Phrygia, Great Phrygia, Hellespontic Phrygia
Ödemiş 35n21 41n49, 49–52, 53n104, 54, 66, 139, 242n8,
264–265
Pactolus (river) 37n37, 61 Pindar 94n16, 190, 190n83
Pamphilia 19 Piraeus 79, 113, 118n8, 119, 123n23, 124, 124n29,
Panaetius 261 128, 139, 159, 213
Pandarus 211 Pisander 81n80, 156
Paphlagonia 22, 37, 51–53, 53n104, 54–55, Pisistratus 219
139 Plataea 3, 121, 131n43, 134n68, 139, 147n24,
Parnassus (Mount) 26, 33, 139 150, 163, 184–185, 187, 189, 194
Parysatis 36, 36n27, 37, 112 Plato’s works
Pasion 77, 266 Alcibiades 69, 69n41, 72n53, 74n59,
Pausanias 47n76, 220, 227, 233, 236 86n101, 234n76
Pausanias (geographer) 117n3 Euthydemus (schol.) 233
Pedieis 139 Menexenus 233
Peisistratus 45n67 Protagoras 252n26
Pelopidas 47n76 Republic 216n, 262
Peloponnese 123, 128–129, 146, 150, 151n44, Plinius (the younger) 84
153, 173, 224n45, 232 Plutarch’s works
Perdiccas 102n44 Agesilaus 35n20, 41n53, 47nn73–75,
Pericles 69n42, 90, 92–93, 98, 123n23, 124, 48n78, 52n101, 53n103, 55n112, 226,
124n28, 152n50, 158, 173–174, 233–234, 226n50, 227
260 Alcibiades 69, 69n41, 72n53, 74n59,
Persephone 183 86n101, 234n76
Perseus (of Macedonia) 263 Artaxerxes 32, 113n90, 114n95
Persia 42, 42n55, 43, 57, 102, 120, 143, 146n24, Cimon 146n24
178, 263 De Herodoti malignitate 260n52
Phanotis 139 Lycurgus 191n
Pharax 40n46, 99, 106 Lysander 48n78, 69n41, 82n83, 86n101,
Pharnabazus 24, 40, 41nn48 and 50, 43, 49– 218n32, 233, 236
54, 55n112, 96, 108–109, 113n91, 114, 116, Moralia 142n4
208, 233–236 Nicias 218
Pharsalus 143 Pelopidas 41n53
Pheidias 234 Pericles 123n23, 173n
Philip (ii) 16, 59, 69n41, 102, 102n49, 105, Themistocles 113n92
105n64, 115, 151n47, 168, 189, 221–224, Theseus 150n39
224n45, 225–227, 241 Podanemus 196
Philip (v) 224 Pollis 22, 41n50
Philippus 214 Polyaenus 3, 36, 36n27
Philistus (of Syracuse) 218, 231n61 Polyanthes 117n3
Phillidas 214 Polybius 15–16, 42, 61, 83, 101n38, 142,
Philochorus 99n29, 114n95, 154 157, 190, 190n83, 222–224, 224nn44–
Philus 261–262 45, 225, 228–230, 232, 262–263,
Phlius 195–196, 209 263n70
Phocis 33, 102n43, 139, 169 Polycrates 122n19
Phoebidas 189, 195 Polycritus 114n95
index of names 293

Polydamas (of Pharsalus) 43, 130, 136n80, Sicily 18, 94n19, 107n66, 118, 123–125, 128, 138,
143–144 173, 243
Polynices 150, 185 Sicyon 133
Pontic Sea, Pontus 52, 123, 129 Simichus (Athenian general) 24
Porphyrius 51 Sinope 139
Poseidon 149n36 Sipylus (Mount) 35, 35n23, 62, 64
Posidonius 15, 262 Skyphos, scil. Σίσυφος 235, 235n78
Possicrates 77, 266 Smyrna 36n23
Potidaea 102n44, 165–166 Solon 45n67, 81, 81n81
Potniae 125, 135n72, 139 Sophaenetus’ Anabasis 257
Priene 139, 265 Sparta 18n18, 22n31, 23–24, 27–28, 31, 32n5,
Procles (of Phlius) 84, 129, 145–148, 153–154, 33–34, 34n14, 39–40, 42, 47, 47n76, 48–
196, 212 49, 59, 65, 68, 85–86, 90–91, 91n6, 93,
Proclus’ Epitome of the Cypria 47n75 94n16, 96–97, 99, 100n37, 101, 105n62,
Prothous 210 107, 114, 117–119, 122, 123n22, 125–126,
Ps-Plutarch Life of Homer 237 128–129, 129n37, 135n72, 139–146,
Psyttaleia 123n23 146n24, 147–149, 151, 151nn44 and 47,
Pydna 102n44 152n49, 154, 154n53, 155–161, 163, 165,
Pylos 92n9, 98, 98n26, 139, 155n58, 176, 166n20, 167, 169, 174, 176, 178, 185–187,
176n47, 180 192, 195–196, 198–200, 203, 209–215, 220,
226, 233, 236, 242, 245, 253, 256–257,
Rhodes 1, 40nn46–47, 41, 41n50, 45, 108, 261–263
110, 127, 133n59, 139, 178, 191–192, Sphacteria 180–181
241n6 Sphodrias 186, 188, 214
Rhyndacus (river) 127 Spithradates, Spithridates 37, 52–53,
Rome 157, 157n62, 261, 261n61, 262–263 53nn104–105, 54–55, 55n112
Stephanus (of Byzantium) 4, 58, 218n31
Salamis 19, 40, 114n99, 123, 150, 163 Sthenelaidas 166n20
Sallust’s The Catilinarian Conspiracy 84, 157, Stobaeus 190n83
262 Strabo 3–4, 15, 58, 101n38, 123n23, 228, 231–
Samos 73, 79–80, 249, 254 232, 234, 237
Sangarion (river) 54, 127, 139 Straton 226
Sardis 32n4, 35, 35nn21 and 23, 37, 37n37, Struthas 207–208
38, 41, 44, 46, 49–51, 55n112, 57, Suda 84, 256, 259, 259n52
57n2, 61, 64–66, 66n27, 69, 139, 209, Sulla 236, 262
264 Susa 40, 93, 235
Scaphae 125, 131n43, 134nn68–69, 135,
135n72, 139 Tacitus’ Annals 24n36
Schoenus 125, 135n72, 139 Tanagra 92n9, 131n43, 134n68, 139
Scipio Africanus 261n60 Taras 220
Scipio Nasica 262 Teïspes (i, ii) 48
Sciritis 151n47 Telephus 47n75
Scolus 125, 131n43, 134nn68–69, 135, 135n72, Telesegorus 99
139 Teleutias 207–208
Scythia 20, 260 Telmessi 19
Sea of Marmara 126 Tenedos 47n75
Selinus 266 (the) Ten Thousand 37, 42, 49, 56, 59, 64, 83,
Sestus 129 257
(the) Seven (against Thebes) 149–150 Thasos 24, 139
294 index of names

Thebes 25, 27–28, 32, 33n10, 34n14, 45, 94– 177, 179, 180n56, 181, 183–184, 189–
95, 95n20, 102, 103n50, 117–120, 125, 130, 192, 192n87, 193–194, 194n91, 196–198,
131n43, 133, 133n61, 134, 134nn68–69, 200, 200n5, 201–204, 204n11, 205–206,
135, 135n72, 137, 137n82, 138–139, 143– 213–214, 217, 217n27, 219, 231n61, 234,
144, 149–151, 169–170, 183–186, 186n64, 237–241, 241n5, 242, 258–259, 259nn48
187–189, 190n82, 193–195, 199–200, 210, and 52
213–214, 242–243, 260n52, 262 Thurii 260
Themistocles 113, 113n92, 124, 124n29, 129, Thybarnae 64
176n47 Timaeus 18n15, 229–231
Themistogenes (of Syracuse) 257, 257n44 Timarchus 77, 77n69, 266
Theopompus (of Chios) 2, 3n16, 4, 8, 16, Timocrates (of Rhodes) 31–32, 32n4, 96, 96n,
16n10, 17–18, 20, 20nn24–25, 50–51, 169, 198
53n103, 69n41, 100n36, 198, 206–207, Timolaus (of Corinth) 24, 117, 117n3, 196
217–218, 218n31, 219, 219n34, 220–224, Timotheus 102, 102nn44 and 50
224n44, 225–226, 226n50, 227–228, 232, Tissaphernes 18n18, 36, 36n27, 37, 37n37, 38,
235, 236n79, 238–239, 239n, 246n8, 256– 41n48, 43, 46n72, 49–50, 50n91, 61–62,
259 64–66, 78, 116, 171, 264, 266
Theramenes 57, 69n42, 79–80, 82–83, 85, 101, Tithraustes 32n4, 36n27, 43–44, 50, 55n112,
155, 216, 245–246, 249–255, 261 96n, 108–109, 171
Thermodon (river) 150 Tmolus (Mount) 35, 35nn21 and 23, 61
Thermopylae 91n6, 148–149, 184–185 Torone 102n44
Thersander 208 Trogus (Pompeius) 16, 20, 20n24
Theseus 94, 150
Thespiae 131n43, 134n68, 139, 186 Varro 84
Thessaly 142–143, 143n7, 208, 232, 235
Thibron 40n46, 41n48, 46, 207–208 Xenias 195–196
(the) Thirty 57, 79, 79n, 82–83, 85, 100n37, Xenocles 38, 64, 181, 264
155, 159n74, 160, 236, 245n2, 261 Xenophon’s works
Thisbae 131n43, 134n68, 139 Agesilaus 35n20, 37n37, 49n85, 53n103,
Thorax 79 61n16
Thoricus 22, 139 Anabasis 32, 36n24, 37n30, 42, 42n57, 45,
Thracia 136, 139, 140 46, 52n99, 55n112, 59, 59n6, 67n28, 83,
Thrasybulus (of Steiria, of Collytus) 78, 83, 84, 100n37, 126, 183, 216n, 257, 257n44
97, 101, 113, 113n93, 158, 158n69 Cyropaedia 111, 111n77, 196
Thrasydaeus 195–196 Hellenica 1, 5–6, 8, 10, 17–18, 29, 31–
Thrasyllus 78n72 32, 32nn4 and 7, 33n10, 35nn20 and
Thrasymachus 81n81 23, 37, 37nn35 and 37, 38nn38–39,
(the) Three Thousand 158–159 40n46, 41nn48–49 and 51–52, 42–43,
Thucydides 1, 3, 8–9, 11, 15–16, 18, 21, 21n27, 46, 47nn73 and 76, 48, 48n78, 49nn81
22nn28–29, 23, 23n33, 24, 29, 31, 31n2, and 84–85, 50n89, 51, 51nn96–97, 52,
74, 81nn80–81, 90, 90n4, 91, 91n7, 92, 52n100, 53, 53nn102–105, 54, 54n109,
92n9, 93–94, 97–98, 100, 100n37, 102, 55n112, 56–57, 61, 61n16, 66n27, 69,
113n92, 115–117, 117nn3 and 5–6, 118, 69n41, 70, 70n47, 73nn57–58, 74, 75,
121–122, 122n19, 123nn22 and 24, 124, 75n, 76, 77n70, 82n84, 83, 83nn88 and
124nn28–29, 125, 125nn, 127n36, 128–129, 91, 84n95, 96n, 100n37, 101n40, 105n62,
131nn43 and 46–47, 132n50, 133, 133n57, 107n66, 114, 114n101, 116, 117n3, 118, 118nn,
136n75, 138, 152n50, 155n58, 156, 156n61, 119, 119nn9–10, 120n13, 125, 127–129,
157, 157n64, 158, 162–166, 166nn20– 129n37, 133, 133n61, 134, 134nn64–65,
21, 167–169, 172–175, 175n45, 176n47, 136, 136nn75–80, 137, 137nn81–82, 141,
index of names 295

141n, 142–143, 143nn7–8, 144, 144n9, 145– Xerxes 48, 91n6, 121, 121n16, 122, 146n24,
146, 146nn21–22, 147, 149, 151, 151n46, 184
153, 153n, 154, 159n74, 170–171, 183, 185,
186, 186n64, 188–189, 191–193, 194n91, Zeno 114n95
195–196, 198, 206–209, 209n20, 210– Zeus 93
216, 218, 227–228, 242–243, 245n1, 253, Zopyrus 226
253n30, 254, 254n32, 257, 257nn43–44
Thematic Index

Acquittal 214 151, 151n44, 154, 160, 162–163, 176, 185,

Acropolis 133, 210 187–189, 201–203, 242–243, 250, 252,
(political) activism 6, 27, 34, 89–90, 93–94, 255–257, 257n40, 258–260, 260n56,
94n16, 95–96, 102–104, 106, 117, 119, 138, 263
163, 206 authorship 2–5, 7–8, 51, 207, 240, 246n8,
aetiology 237 247
ἀφανής, see φανερός autokrator (ambassador with full power)
aitia, aition, aitios, αἰτία, αἴτιον, αἴτιος see 249, 253–254
prophasis autonomy 79, 86, 110, 132, 134, 233
akroasis 259 αὐτοπολῖται 137n81
allegiance 102
alliance 19, 43, 52–53, 53nn104–105, 54– barrier 120, 123, 138
55, 89, 102, 102n43, 107n66, 131n46, basileia 46
136, 143nn7–8, 145–146, 148, 154, βασιλικαὶ διφθέραι 112
159, 173, 176–177, 179n, 187, 189, battle (of Cnidus, Notion, Sardis, etc.) 27,
190n82, 193, 195, 205, 211–212, 215, 223, 37–38, 44, 46, 50, 57, 61, 65, 68–69, 73,
242n8 84, 99, 103, 112, 114, 142–143, 146, 150,
allusion 5, 6, 82n85, 179, 260 154–156, 179, 185, 212, 266
ambassador, see embassy biography 84, 160, 111n77
ambition, see philotimia blame, see praise
ambuscade, ambush 38–39, 51, 64, 68, 71, boeotarch, boiotarchos, boiotarches 47, 131,
175, 179, 181–183, 197, 241, 264 131n46, 133, 133n58, 134, 134n69, 241
amnesty 83 boldness 65, 94
anacyclosis 262 booty 55n112, 105n64, 127
analepsis 108, 116 border 33, 41n48, 53n104
ancestor 61, 74, 148–149, 177, 185 bottom line, see diplomacy
apragmon, apragmosyne, ἀπραγμοσύνη, boundary 40, 120, 127, 169
inactivity see polypragmosyne bribery 31–32, 49, 226
arbitration 26, 151n47
archaiologia 122 camp-journal 36
archon, archontes, arche 3, 105n62, 118, 119, canon 6
133, 133nn58–59, 241, 241n6 carefulness 94n16
army 35, 38–39, 41, 41n48, 43, 45–46, 49– causation 6, 20n25, 28, 31, 42, 162–163, 167,
50, 50n86, 51, 53, 62, 64, 66–67, 110, 123, 170, 172, 174–175, 183, 191, 197–198, 200,
127, 142, 180–181, 195, 208, 210, 213, 216, 219, 221, 239, 241
242n8, 264–266 cautiousness 93
arrogance 60, 85, 148, 211, 261, 263 cavalry 35n23, 37–39, 41n48, 46, 49, 62, 64,
assault 74–76, 78, 194, 215 77, 131, 264, 266
assembly 79–80, 118, 133n59, 136, 146n20, 151, charge, in charge of 29, 45–46, 50, 73, 83, 105,
152n49, 166n20, 173, 176, 189, 191, 210, 217, 118–119, 186, 212, 214–216, 230, 234, 251,
241n6, 245, 250–251, 253, 253n30, 254, 254, 254n32
254n32 charientes, see oligarchy
asty 124, 124nn28–29 Chinese boxes 19
attikizo, ἀττικίζω 158, 161–162, 170, 193, 199 chora 124, 124n28
audience 8, 33, 42, 45, 66, 74, 83n90, 90, citizenship 114n99, 134n68, 136, 136n80,
106, 108, 112, 118–119, 144–145, 147, 149– 260
thematic index 297

class (governing classes, upper classes, etc.) debate (Mytilenaean, etc.) 7, 41, 43, 47, 61,
46, 93, 98, 100, 100n34, 130, 262 85, 93–94, 100–105, 105n64, 123–124, 126,
colony 102n49, 203 130, 141, 145, 152, 155n58, 157n64, 158,
column 5, 51n98, 75–77, 246, 251 161, 166, 166n20, 173, 200–201, 204, 216,
comedy 93–94, 234 230, 241, 245, 250, 254n32, 258, 260–
commander, command 40, 41n48, 44, 48n78, 262
64, 77, 107n66, 108–109, 113n90, 129, 146– decay 85n98, 232, 262
147, 207–208, 213, 233, 264, 266 Decelea-topic, Decelean war-motif 116–118,
composition 1, 5, 15–17, 20–21, 23–25, 124–125
25n, 26–27, 27n37, 28–30, 33, 42– Deception 39
43, 105, 109n71, 115, 130, 229, 240, decree 114n99, 132, 132nn53 and 55, 253–
241n4 254
confederacy 132–133, 133nn57 and 62, 134, defection 102–104, 157
136, 136nn73 and 75, 137–138, 143n7, degeneration 60, 104, 221, 262
211 Demaenetus affair 22–23, 97, 99, 106, 159
conflict 1, 25, 28, 39, 94–95, 117, 125, 130, 135, demagogue, demagogos, δημαγωγός 45,
162, 178, 184, 190, 193, 197–198, 205, 241 45n69, 98, 98n26, 100, 100nn35–
connectivity 121–123 36, 104, 104n59, 154, 156, 212, 220,
conquest 96, 104–105, 106n, 115, 119, 123, 225
154n53, 199, 262 democracy, demokratia 79–81, 81nn80–81,
conservatism 90–91 82n87, 83, 93, 93n15, 98n26, 100n35,
constitution (ancestral, Boeotian, etc.) 1, 3, 101, 133n62, 155–157, 157n64, 159n74,
9, 25, 28, 32–33, 45, 79–81, 81nn80–81, 160, 162, 191, 196, 219, 245, 245n2, 246,
82, 116, 121, 132, 155–157, 183, 191, 219n34, 262
241, 245n2, 254n32, 259, 262 demos, δῆμος, see polloi
contentiousness, see philopolemos demotikos, demotikotatos 45, 45n68, 80, 84,
continent 43, 130, 142–143, 153 98–100, 193, 248, 252
control, self-control 25–26, 55n112, 101, 104, dependency 86, 134, 136, 136n80
114, 121, 122n19, 127–129, 133, 141–143, diadochoi 85, 261
143n7, 144, 147, 153, 184, 207–208, 212, diaphthora 108
214, 220–222, 227, 242, 248 diapontioi polemoi 262
copyist 57 digression 3, 19–20, 22–23, 28, 44–46, 99,
corn 142, 173 108–110, 117, 122, 138, 170, 183, 229–230,
council, boule, boulai 22n31, 25, 82, 98, 130, 232
130n42, 131, 131n46, 132–133, 133nn57 and dikaion 201
61, 134–135, 146n20, 157, 157n63, 176–177, diplomacy 188n72, 232n66, 252–253, 255
222, 241, 241n5, 250, 253 discourse 6, 175, 189, 249, 256
counsel 94n16, 226 disease, see illness
coup 45, 82, 131, 133n59, 184, 241n6, 245n2 dispute 25, 28, 94, 121, 130, 141n, 153, 194, 196,
cow 227 199
crew 77, 99, 142, 153, 266 disruptiveness 163, 210
crime (war crimes, etc.) 83, 95, 95nn22–23, doctor 218, 171n34
110, 211, 216 dominion, see pleonexia
criticism (literary, postmodern, etc.) 6, 10, drastikos 60, 60n13, 74
21, 47, 107, 112, 204n11, 224–226, 228, 236, drug-seller 171n34
256, 259, 261 drunkenness 219
(the) crossing (of) 54, 120–121, 127 dynamism 68, 74, 93, 94n16, 106
crusade 39, 40, 43, 145 dynast, δυναστεία 44–46, 111n80
Cyrus-topic 42–43, 56 dynatoi, see oligarchy
298 thematic index

earthquake 172, 172n38 federation 116, 138

embassy 79, 99, 105n62, 106, 107n66, 118, fickleness, fickle 97–98, 98n26
128, 146n20, 147, 156, 159, 176, 187–189, fleet 40n46, 41nn49–50, 43–44, 69–70,
194n91, 213, 249, 253–254, 254n32, 70n47, 72, 72n52, 73n57, 74, 77, 113n90,
261n61 114, 121–122, 147, 204, 250, 254
focalisation 29, 33, 38, 43, 97, 108, 110, 163,
empire, imperium, see pleonexia 213, 240, 260
encounter 38, 55n112, 72, 74 foe 24, 38, 64–65, 72–74, 92, 120, 124n28, 141,
enemy, see foe 151, 160, 179–180, 180n53, 181, 189, 201,
enktesis 136 205, 208, 214–216, 248, 250, 254, 264–
enmity 169, 177–178 266
enterprise 31, 41, 43, 47, 56, 90, 92, 125, 182, follower 3, 3n16, 15–16, 45, 100–101, 101nn38
236 and 42, 115n, 158, 194, 196, 212, 231n61,
enthusiasm 9, 59 236, 245
envoy 34, 40n47, 95, 99, 176–178, 215 food 128, 141, 221, 227
epeirotes 122 foolishness 60, 90
ephors 40n46, 41n48, 191–192, 236, 254 foothills 62, 64
epieikeia, see moderation forefathers 60, 156
epieikes, ἐπιεικής, epieikestatoi, see oligarchy formula 21–22, 75n, 192n85, 194n91
epigamia 136 fortification, refortification 18, 113, 113n92,
epimeleia 226 117–118, 144, 182
epimetrounta logon 228 fortress, φρούριον (-α) 124, 154nn53 and 55,
epitaphios logos 149, 149n35 185, 187–188, 195, 210
equites 157 fortune 29, 107n66, 120n16, 201–203, 209, 211
ethnos/genos 136n74 fragment 3–5, 8, 15–16, 36, 51, 66, 69n41, 75,
etymology 37, 242 81n81, 82, 112, 173, 174n41, 182, 217n28,
événementiel history 22 218, 221, 224, 226, 226n48, 231–233, 237,
excursus 1, 19, 20, 24–25, 27–29, 33, 96, 108, 239, 245–247, 251
116–117, 130 framework 2, 15, 17–18, 21–22, 25n36, 26, 28–
execution 8, 36, 48, 50n91 29, 162, 240
exemplum (-a), paradeigma, παράδειγμα 148, freedom 80, 91n6, 105n62, 114, 149, 186, 203
204, 231 freelancer 113
exile, exiles 54, 80, 155, 191, 194, 196 friend, friendship, philia 45, 48, 53–54,
expedition (second Athenian, etc.) 18, 20, 54n109, 96–97, 101, 107n66, 117, 119, 141n,
37, 41n49, 42, 42n57, 43n60, 46–47, 149, 179, 195–196, 199, 208, 212, 216, 222–
47nn75–76, 48–50, 55, 57–59, 75n, 224, 236
78n72, 90, 122–123, 125, 127, 148, 165,
173–174, 177, 179, 185, 204, 235, 243, garrison 109, 114, 154n55, 185, 264
257 gates 180, 182, 184, 194
explanation 27, 30, 34, 44, 68n36, 83n87, gaze 179
162–170, 175, 197, 200, 224, 228n52, 233– general, generalship, see leadership
235, 237, 239, 241, 249, 251 genre (biographic, historical, etc.) 6, 10, 83–
eyewitness 100n36, 112 84, 93, 147, 147n26, 175, 225, 231
gnorimoi, see oligarchy
faction, see party goat 227
φανερός 164, 167, 167n25, 168–169, 175, 179– gold 24, 28, 31, 49, 52, 93, 96, 117n3
180, 182, 197, 213, 219, 241 government 19, 79–80, 81n80, 82n87, 107–
farm 141 108, 130, 134, 156, 160, 174, 178, 196,
federalism 132 219n34
thematic index 299

gratitude 53, 162, 187 island 24, 43, 77, 121–122, 122n19, 123, 123n23,
greed see pleonexia 124–125, 127–130, 142–143, 147–148, 153,
group, see party 178, 180–181
growth 25, 92n9, 125, 138, 157n62, 165, 174– isonomia 172n35
175
jealousy 236
harbour 50, 69n41, 70, 72, 78, 107, 121, 124, journey 22, 36n23, 44, 116, 249, 265
136, 139, 141n, 147, 168, 178, 182, 191, 233, judgement 8, 60, 71, 85, 86n102, 91, 98–201,
250, 254, 266 203, 204n11, 213, 224, 230, 232, 235
harmost 22, 79, 99, 106, 127, 182 jurymen 131, 134
headquarters 40, 49, 77 justice 34, 82n82, 95, 100, 103, 148, 158, 161,
healer 171n34 188, 196, 202–203, 205, 213–217, 231, 236,
hegemony (land, sea) 84, 116, 125, 127n36, 261
129, 129n37, 138, 141–142, 152n49, 153,
155n58, 160 kagalogathia 85, 261
helot 146n24, 199, 221, 227 καταίρω 50
herbalist 171n34 king, kingship 19, 28–29, 31, 34, 36n27, 40,
heroes 149, 185 40n47, 41, 41n52, 42n55, 43–44, 46,
hesychia, ἡσυχία, ἡσυχάζειν 89–90, 92, 93n12, 47n76, 48–51, 52n101, 53, 53nn103–105,
94nn16–17 and 19, 97, 103, 104n59, 54–55, 55n112, 60, 74, 90, 99, 106, 108–
132n55, 162 112, 114, 120, 130, 143–145, 149–151, 156,
hetaireia, hetairoi, see party 169, 173–174, 177–178, 184–185, 189–190,
hill 77, 180, 180n53, 266 198, 200, 210–211, 214, 220, 223–227, 234–
historicity 8, 10, 155n58 237, 242, 253
homilos, see polloi kinship 156n60, 196
honour 52n101, 114n99, 171, 203 kiss 52n101
hoplite 38, 41n48, 78, 130–131, 264, 266 koinon 136n74, 143
horsemen 78, 266 kyrios 253
hybris 104, 120, 187, 211
law 19, 47, 82n82, 91n6, 100n35, 136, 137n81,
illness 164, 171n33, 172, 172n39, 205 202, 205, 254n32
imitatio Agamemnonis 47 leader, leadership 8, 24, 28, 39, 43–46,
imperialism, see pleonexia 46n72, 56, 71, 74, 77, 80, 85, 89, 92,
impiety 196 95n23, 98, 100, 100nn35–37, 101–102,
inconstancy 97–98 106–107, 110, 112n90, 115, 127, 141n,
incontinence, akolasia, akrasia 219–222 147, 147n24, 155, 159, 163, 182, 184,
independence 33n10, 67, 131n43, 151, 186 186n64, 188, 192, 195, 200, 204–205,
infantry 46, 62, 64, 109 207–208, 211–212, 214, 216, 218, 220,
informants 31, 34, 36, 51–52, 56, 77, 110, 115, 227, 234, 236, 238–239, 245n2, 246,
163, 242 266
inhabitant 64, 78, 105n64, 125, 131n43, 221, league (Chalcidian, Delian, second Athenian,
235 etc.) 102, 102n46, 103–104, 132, 132nn53
injustice, see justice and 55, 136nn75 and 80, 137, 145,
inscription 112n85, 151n47 151nn44 and 47, 166n20
insularity 121–122, 125, 128 liberation (of the Cadmea), see occupation
insulation 121, 124, 124n30, 125, 128, 138 lieutenant 52, 107n66, 108, 191
interpolation 17, 261n56 limes, limit 120, 127, 130, 138, 177
intertextuality 5–6, 145n16 listener 93, 258, 259n52, 260
irony 174, 224 luxury, τρυφή 64, 65n20, 209, 219–220, 233
300 thematic index

manipulation 27n40, 54, 175 οἱ περί + x 100, 100n38, 114, 158, 170, 194,
(military) manoeuvre 18, 31, 35–36, 65, 72 194n91, 195–196, 235
march 36–37, 42nn55 and 57, 46, 50–52, 64, oligarchy, ὀλιγαρχία, oligoi 79, 80, 82, 85, 87,
66, 126–127, 181, 208 99, 99n31, 100, 100n34, 119, 133n62, 141,
market 136, 191, 195, 237 153, 155–157, 157nn61 and 64, 158, 160–
marriage, intermarriage 53, 53n105, 54, 161, 178, 191–192, 194, 196–197, 241, 261
107n66, 136n80 omen 47, 50, 50n86, 67, 208, 264
matriarchy 260 opponent 100n37, 180, 184, 193–195, 201, 252,
medicine 164, 172, 172nn34 and 39 252n27
medism 190 oracle 152n49, 236–237
memories, memory 8, 52, 56, 66, 119, 187– orator, ῥήτωρ, oratory 94n17, 100n35, 101n42,
188, 262 103–104, 106, 112, 113n92, 141–142, 144–
mercenaries 22, 28, 43, 107, 109–110, 114, 133, 146, 148–150, 152, 159–160, 160n, 172, 190,
169, 181, 220 228, 230–231, 243, 245, 247, 255–258
mimesis 47, 258 orchard 64
mockery 236 origins 18, 20, 42n55, 61, 110
moderation 60, 85–86, 93, 202, 219, 221, outcry 97–98
232n68, 261, 263
money 24, 28–29, 31, 32n4, 43–44, 89, 96, pamphlet 246
96n, 97, 99, 104, 109, 114, 116, 128, 130, 133, πανοῦργος and σοφιστής (of Lysander) 235–
137, 153, 169, 178, 188, 195, 198–200, 211, 236
214, 216, 221, 225, 233–234, 236, 260n52, paradoxa 19
264 partisans 79, 156, 193, 194n91, 196
morale, morality, morals 104, 198, 200, 205– party 9, 25–28, 31, 33–34, 36, 39, 45–46, 79,
206, 213, 217, 219n34, 237–239 89, 94–95, 95n20, 96–97, 100–101, 106–
moralism (descriptive, explanatory, prescrip- 107, 114, 117, 135, 138, 156–157, 157n64,
tive) 207, 209, 211–212, 217–219, 228, 239, 158–159, 161–163, 169n, 170, 173–174,
239n 177–178, 184, 188, 193–194, 194n91, 195–
mutiny 108 196, 199, 202, 205, 211–212, 214, 236, 240,
245n2
narrative (delay, displacement, pattern, pauci 157
thread, etc.) 6, 9–10, 15, 17–20, 22–24, payment 28, 43, 109, 116
25n, 26–27, 27n40, 29, 35, 38, 43, 53, 56, peace, eirene 29, 33, 44, 60, 64, 80, 89,
65–66, 83, 89, 92n9, 96, 116, 135, 152n48, 93n12, 97, 99, 101, 102n47, 103, 119,
155, 155n58, 162, 169, 181, 184, 205, 214, 137, 142, 142n2, 145, 154, 154n55, 162,
227, 229, 237, 239, 240, 242, 246, 255, 176, 199, 210, 248–250, 253, 253n30,
257–258, 261 254
narratology 5–6 pentecontaetia 92n9, 94n19
navarch 22, 41n50, 68, 99, 106, 114 perception 38–39, 96, 116, 124, 128, 160, 179,
negotiations 18n18, 40, 53, 53n106, 54, 103, 179n, 180, 180n53, 181, 183, 242
114n99, 176, 253 performance 255, 258–260, 260n56
nomothetai 45 philopolemos 60, 74, 226, 236
philoponos 226
oath 80, 187, 196, 254n32 philosopher 80, 83, 100n36, 148, 261n61
occupation 105n62, 185, 187–188, 195; also philostratiotes 45
occupation of Decelea 116–117, 117n3, philotimia, φιλοτιμία 8, 68, 90, 102, 105n62,
124, 126–127 115, 177, 199, 205, 211–212, 219, 226, 236,
ochlos, see polloi 263
oikoumene 16, 29, 120 phusis 206, 238
thematic index 301

physician 112, 171 praise 108, 171, 185, 198–200, 207, 213, 217–218,
plague 164, 172, 205 224–225, 228–229, 231, 231n61, 232, 239,
pleasure 207–208, 219–220, 222, 225, 258 256
pleasure-park 64 proem 66, 258
plebs 84, 157 profit 90, 99, 188
pleonexia, πλεονεξία 48–49, 60–61, 65, 85, propaganda 42n57, 173
85n98, 90, 93n12, 95, 103–104, 111nn80 property 99, 105n64, 107n66, 159, 196, 223
and 82, 113, 118–120, 120n16, 122, 122n19, prophasis, πρόφασις 25, 27, 31, 96, 109, 118,
138, 144, 149, 158, 169–170, 177–178, 186, 163–165, 165n16, 166–167, 167n25,
188–189, 190n82, 198, 200, 200n5, 202– 168–171, 171n33, 172–173, 175n44,
203, 205, 209, 213, 219–220, 224n45, 233, 178, 193, 197–199, 213, 216, 219, 234,
261–263, 263n70 241
plethos, πλῆθος, see polloi prosperity 26, 117, 125, 130, 209
plot 108, 135, 186n64, 191, 192n85, 234 prostates, προστάτης 100, 100n36, 156n61, 195
poet, poetry 6, 10–11, 120, 146n24, 148 prothumia 44, 174
policy 2, 9, 24, 31, 45, 49, 60, 74, 89, 91, 91n7, proxenos 143
93, 93n12, 94, 94n16, 95–97, 101, 102n47, psychology 206, 217, 238–239
104–106, 113, 115, 117–119, 130, 135, 144, punishment 95n22, 110, 133, 202, 211, 216
146, 157, 170, 173, 196, 198–199, 206, 237, pupil 82, 151–152, 256
240–241, 263 purifier 171n34
(patrios) politeia 80, 81n81, 82, 84, 85
politeuomai, πολιτεύομαι, πολιτευόμενος Quellenforschung 4, 58
100n35, 162, 193
politician 32n4, 82, 92, 101n42, 107n66, 158– raid 26, 33, 127–128, 208, 266
159, 173–174, 199, 221, 226n48, 245, 255 rashness 69
politics 9, 23, 45, 82, 84, 93–94, 97, 101, 104, reader’s expectations, perception, response,
106, 141, 145, 152–153, 157–158, 160–162, reader-reception theory, discriminating
172, 188, 193–194, 196–197, 199–200, 204, reader 27, 96, 117–118, 163, 208, 224,
214, 222, 241 255n34, 256
polloi 80, 81n80, 84, 96–100, 100nn33 and rearguard 39, 64, 181, 264
35, 141, 156, 156n61, 157, 157nn63–64, rebellion 55, 85n98, 246, 262
158, 160, 160n, 161, 191–194, 196–197, recitations 259–260
199, 202, 212, 220, 241, 243, 248–249, refuge 37, 73, 187
252 Reinassence thought 16n4
polypragmosyne, πολυπραγμοσύνη, polyprag- reinforcement 70, 73–74, 128, 180–181
monein 44, 89–90, 90n3, 91, 91n7, 92–94, report 19, 34, 37, 77, 115, 155n58, 233
94n17, 97–99, 103–104, 104n59, 105–107, republic 82–83, 157
115, 119, 132n55, 162, 174, 206, 240 resilience 91n6, 92n9, 147
population 20, 55, 95, 124nn28–29, 142, 242 responsibility 29, 82, 89, 97, 108, 119, 129n37,
poverty 129, 153, 202, 220, 262 134, 137–138, 147, 156, 162, 170, 172–174,
power 17, 20, 43, 46, 80, 91–92, 100n37, 103, 183–184, 186, 191, 197–198, 200, 210, 212,
106, 112, 113n91, 114n99, 115–119, 121–122, 215, 227, 241–242, 245n2
124–126, 128–129, 129n37, 130, 132–133, restlessness 90
135–136, 138, 141–144, 147, 152n49, 154, revenge 36, 149n36, 162
155n58, 158, 160–161, 166, 172, 172n35, revolt 22–23, 95n23, 108–109, 146n24, 195,
174–176, 184, 187, 189, 192, 194–195, 199, 201–202
210, 212, 214–216, 220, 225, 226n48, rhetoric (on sea hegemony, sea power, etc.)
233, 237, 242–243, 248–249, 254, 262– 123, 128–129, 138, 144–146, 158, 184, 189,
263 200, 202–204, 242, 259
302 thematic index

rhetorician 18–19, 21, 258 154n53, 156, 157n61, 166–167, 170, 174–177,
rhythm 23, 27, 92n9 179n, 187–189, 190n82, 200–203, 212, 215–
river 35, 50, 54, 61, 66, 120, 120nn14 and 16, 217, 230, 245–246, 249, 249n15, 250, 253,
121, 127, 138–139, 150, 221, 237, 265 255–257, 257n40, 258, 259n48
rope 182–183 stasis, stasiasmos 135, 162, 190, 191n, 192–193,
route 35, 35nn21 and 23, 37, 47n75, 54, 61, 195–196, 200, 205
128, 203, 266 stereotype 90, 187, 226
royal purple 46 style (narrative, prose, ring-composition,
rule, ruler 19–20, 93, 123, 200n6, 201, 214, 236, sententious, etc.) 9, 15, 17, 20, 23, 25,
261, 263 27n37, 29, 43, 65, 71, 84, 162, 230, 240,
rumour 31–32, 98, 109, 189 251, 258
supporter 55n112, 82, 97, 100, 114, 115n, 145,
sacrifice 47, 50, 50n86, 67, 127, 264–265 157, 159–160, 163, 169, 178, 193–194, 205,
safety 92n9, 94n16, 124, 153, 186–187, 204, 245, 257
208, 250 survivor 73, 201
sailor 106, 211 suspense 22–23, 27
satrap, satrapy 20, 36, 40, 41n48, 42n55, sympolity, sympoliteia, συμπολιτεία 135–136,
45, 49, 50n86, 55, 55n112, 66, 207, 211, 136n73, 137n81
264 synchronisms 18, 21, 29
sea (Aegean, Black, Pontic) 18, 52, 57, 126, synedria 132–133, 133n59, 241
257 syngraphe 18, 19, 227
seamanship 147 synteleia 136, 136n73
seaquake 172
self-aggrandizement, see pleonexia tagos 143
self-interest 148, 202, 204, 212, 215 talks 40, 54, 118, 151, 155–156, 159, 210, 212,
senate 84, 157, 261n61 245, 253
sheep 26, 227 tarachodes 163
ship, Athens-ship 24, 50, 69, 69n41, 70, taxes 131, 134
70nn47–48, 71–73, 73nn57–58, 74, 76– thalassocracy 121–122, 122n19, 138
79, 99, 114, 121, 124, 128–129, 142, 153, 199, thalatta 126
211, 250–251, 266 thaumasia 19
sieges 66, 231n61 theogony 17
signal 64, 182–183, 209, 264 tile 125
silver 52, 93 timber 125, 142
sinking 72 tithe 118n8, 213
skirmish 38, 64, 106 topography 35–36, 56, 78
slave, slavery 43, 104, 105n64, 119, 125, town 52, 134n68, 135n72, 143, 182
143, 166, 187, 205, 207–208, 226, 253, tragedy 24n36, 93, 149, 149n35
260 treachery 54
soldier 28, 39, 45, 54–55, 55n112, 64, 107, 116, treasury 89, 97, 131, 131n44, 134, 199
126–127, 134, 147, 168, 178, 191, 208–209, treaty 79, 80
221, 223, 264–265 tribe 40
sophist 81n81, 171 trick 26, 137, 169–170, 178, 182, 234
source (historical, Persian, primary, written, trireme 24, 28, 41n50, 70n47, 74, 107, 109–110,
etc.) 6, 37, 56, 68, 77, 78n72, 84–85, 110– 191, 266
111, 111n80, 112, 115, 141, 246 troop 28, 37–39, 41n48, 43, 45, 53, 53n106, 62,
speeches 2, 43, 84, 91, 91n6, 93, 94n19, 103, 64, 77–78, 110, 178, 194n91, 208, 264
108–109, 121n17, 128–129, 136n80, 143, tyrant 80, 103n52, 108, 177, 191, 216, 219,
143nn6–7, 144–150, 152, 152n50, 154, 224n41
thematic index 303

valley 37n37, 61 96, 102–103, 103n50, 104–105, 105n62,

vanguard 39 106, 108–109, 113, 113n93, 115–119, 123,
vice 218, 223 123n22, 124n28, 125–128, 130, 134–
victim 47, 47n75, 64, 118n8, 145, 148, 188, 211, 135, 135n72, 137–139, 146n24, 147–149,
213, 216, 234 151–152, 152n49, 157–159, 161, 163, 165,
village 39, 100n37, 181, 262 168–169, 170, 173–174, 183–184, 187–
virtue 8, 52n101, 60–61, 121, 206–207, 217, 226, 190, 190n83, 192–194, 196, 198–199, 211,
231, 234, 238 213, 215, 234, 240, 242–243, 245–246,
visibility 174–175, 178–183, 197, 241 263
voice (of the narrator, etc.) 29–30, 94, 96– weakness 41n48, 49, 55, 90, 97, 104, 117, 122,
97, 108–109, 162–163, 201, 204n11, 207, 143, 154, 221
235–236, 240 wealth 90, 93, 130, 159, 219, 225, 236
vulgate 37 weapon 99, 168, 178, 199
well-born 97–98
wall (city walls, Long Walls, etc.) 79–80, wood 180, 182–183
94n19, 113, 113n92, 124, 124nn28–29, 125,
127, 172n38, 176n47, 180, 182–183, 187, xympheron 201, 203
250, 253–254, 266
war (Archidamic, Corinthian, Decelean, etc.) ὕπαρχος 46
1, 8, 10, 15, 18–19, 22n31, 23–28, 31,
32nn4 and 7, 33–34, 34n14, 42–43, Zeitgeschichte 16
45, 45n68, 47–49, 57, 86, 89–90, 94, zone (boundary, buffer, red) 40, 127