The Shape of Herodotean Rhetoric International Studies in the History of Rhetoric

Editors

Laurent Pernot (Executive Editor, Strasbourg, France) Craig Kallendorf (College Station, U.S.A.)

Advisory Board

Bé Breij (Nijmegen, Netherlands) Rudong Chen (Perkin, China) Manfred Kraus (Tübingen, Germany) Gabriella Moretti (Trento, Italy) Luisa Angelica Puig Llano (Mexico City, Mexico) Christine Sutherland (Calgary, Canada)

volume 6

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/rhet The Shape of Herodotean Rhetoric

A Study of the Speeches in Herodotus’ Histories with Special Attention to Books 5–9

Vasiliki Zali

LEIDEN | BOSTON Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Zali, Vasiliki, author. The shape of Herodotean rhetoric : a study of the speeches in Herodotus’ Histories with special attention to books 5–9 / by Vasiliki Zali. pages cm — (International studies in the history of rhetoric) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-27896-7 (hardback : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-90-04-28358-9 (e-book) 1. Herodotus. History. 2. Rhetoric, Ancient. I. Title. II. Series: International studies in the history of rhetoric.

D58.H473Z35 2014 930—dc23 2014032773

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This book is printed on acid-free paper. Contents

Acknowledgements vii Abbreviations ix Note on Text and Translations x

Introduction 1

PART 1 Architectonics of Speech

1 Allocation of Speech 37 1.1 Modes of Analysis 39 1.2 Greek vs. Greeks 52 1.3 Speech and Power/Authority 77 1.4 Greeks vs. Persians 97

PART 2 Speech and Competition

2 Debates 103 2.1 General Observations 106 2.2 Language 116 2.3 On the Cusp between Homer and Thucydides 121 2.4 Test Cases 127

PART 3 Speech and Typology

3 Alliance Speeches 171 3.1 Literary Tradition and Early Rhetorical Handbooks 172 3.2 Alliance Motifs in Herodotus 178 3.3 Test Cases 187 3.4 Persian Alliances: An Overview 233 vi Contents

4 Pre-Battle Speeches 237 4.1 The Genre of Pre-Battle Exhortation 238 4.2 Exhortation and Exhortatory Motifs in Literature and Rhetoric 242 4.3 Herodotean Harangues 245 4.4 Function of Exhortations: Case Studies 257 4.5 Harangues and Herodotean Narrative 300

Conclusion 303

Appendix 1 317 Appendix 2 319 Bibliography 327 Index of Passages Cited 354 General Index 373

Acknowledgements

Many colleagues and friends helped in different but equally important ways to the completion of this book which arises out of my 2009 PhD thesis at University College London. It gives me great pleasure to have the opportunity to thank them at last. I owe the greatest thanks to Simon Hornblower, my primary PhD supervisor and most valuable advisor. During my PhD he corrected numerous drafts of individual chapters and the complete thesis, with an unfailing eye and unique patience. His scholarly expertise, his invaluable guidance and his constructive and challenging comments helped me to deeply appreciate Herodotus the artist and find novel and rewarding ways to explore the Histories. Simon’s open-mindedness, kindness of character, remarkable energy and inexhaust- ible enthusiasm have been a constant inspiration for me. I was taught a lot by his insistence on the correctness of language and expression as well as his attention to detail. His support, mentoring and encouragement, both during and after the PhD, have been priceless. The best proof of my gratitude and appreciation for him is the acknowledgement that he has been the most decisive factor of my academic development. Studying with him was a true honour. I am also very grateful to Chris Carey, my second PhD supervisor, who com- prehensively worked through several drafts of the thesis. Despite his immense workload, he generously sacrificed his limited free time to discuss with me various questions and problems. His critical eye and shrewd comments helped me to refine my arguments and saved me from vagueness and inconsistencies. Both during and after the completion of my PhD Chris has been a constant source of guidance and support. My examiners, Nick Lowe and Tim Rood, offered insightful feedback which I took into consideration in turning my thesis into this book. I owe a debt of gratitude to many others. Vassilis Lendakis supervised my Master’s Dissertation on intertextual links between Herodotus and Thucydides. Elton Barker, Leslie Goldmann, Adam Goldwyn, Charlotte Greenacre, Alan Griffiths, Ioannis Konstantakos, Ed Sanders, and Rafael Schiel all read several parts of the PhD thesis and provided useful comments in terms of either argument or language. I am equally thankful to all. I also want to thank Ita Hilton for undertaking the task of refining my language further when the book was in preparation. Finally, I owe a great thanks to Joe Skinner for helping to get hold of a book at the very last minute, Guendalina Taietti for patiently translating Italian with me, and especially to James Ford who generously offered to oversee the language of the viii Acknowledgements final manuscript. For any mistakes there may still remain at the level of both conception and expression I am solely responsible. I also want to express my gratitude to the editorial board of Brill’s International Studies in the History of Rhetoric series for accepting this book for publication, to the anonymous readers of Brill for their sharp suggestions, and to Tessel Jonquière, the Assistant Editor for Classical Studies, for being so efficient. Some parts of this book have already been published in some form and I would like to acknowledge with grateful thanks the following journals for allowing me to reprint or recycle material: Electra (‘Agamemnon in Herodotus and Thucydides: exploring the historical uses of a mythological paradigm’, Electra 1 [2011]: 61–98) and GRBS (‘Themistocles’ exhortation before Salamis: On Herodotus 8.83’, GRBS 53 [2013]: 461–85). In addition, I am deeply indebted to the A. G. Leventis Foundation and UCL (Alumni Scholarship) for their financial support during my PhD. A sincere thanks from the bottom of my heart goes to the people who supported me on the personal side from the very start of my PhD to the completion of this book: Alexandros Androulidakis, Alysha Braithwaite, John Galvin, Antigone Gavriel, Sylvia Georgiadou, Skevi Georgiou, Nikolina Hadjigiorgi, Maria Kanellou, Eleni Katsae, Dimitra Kokkini, and Sofia Stamelou. Above all, I feel the need to thank my family, my mother Orsalia, my sisters Nitsa and Mary, my aunt Iphigeneia, and my partner Rafael, who have been a source of unfailing emotional support and love over all these years. This book is dedicated to them and to the memory of my father. Abbreviations

Abbreviations for journal titles follow those of L’Année Philologique. Abbreviations for Greek and Latin authors and works are usually those listed in OCD4, pp. xxvii–liii. In addition to these, the following abbreviations are used:

BE J. Robert and L. Robert, Bulletin Épigraphique in RÉG 86 (1973) D–K H. Diels and W. Kranz (eds.), Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, vols. I–III (Berlin 1951–526) FGE D. L. Page (ed.), Further Greek Epigrams (Cambridge 1981) FGrHist F. Jacoby (ed.), Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker (Berlin 1923–) Hude C. Hude, Herodoti Historiae (Oxford 19273) LGPN II M. J. Osborne and S. G. Byrne (eds.), Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, vol. II: Attica (Oxford 1994) LGPN III.A P. M. Fraser and E. Matthews (eds.), Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, vol. III.A: The Peloponnese, Western Greece, Sicily and Magna Graecia (Oxford 1997) L–P E. Lobel and D. Page (eds.), Poetarum Lesbiorum Fragmenta (Oxford 1955) LSJ H. G. Liddell and R. Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon, rev. by H. S. Jones, With a Revised Supplement (Oxford 19969) OCD4 S. Hornblower, A. Spawforth and E. Eidinow (eds.), The Oxford Classical Dictionary (Oxford 20124) PMG D. L. Page (ed.), Poetae Melici Graeci (Oxford 1962) Powell J. E. Powell, A Lexicon to Herodotus (Cambridge 1938) RE A. Pauly, G. Wissowa and W. Kroll (eds.), Real-Encyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft (Stuttgart 1893–1980) Spengel L. Spengel (ed.), Rhetores Graeci, vol. II (Leipzig 1854) Stein H. Stein (ed.), Herodotus (Berlin 19016) TGF A. Nauck (ed.), Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenta (Leipzig 1856) Usener/ H. Usener and L. Radermacher (eds.), Dionysii Halicarnasei Radermacher quae exstant, vol. VI: Opusculorum volumen secundum (Stuttgart and Leipzig 1997) W M. L. West (ed.), Iambi et Elegi Graeci ante Alexandrum can- tati, vols. I–II (Oxford 1989–19922) Note on Text and Translations

I cite Herodotus by the Oxford Classical Text (OCT) of C. Hude. Translations of Herodotus are based on those of A. D. Godley (Loeb), A. de Sélincourt as revised by J. Marincola (Penguin Classics) and R. Waterfield (Oxford World’s Classics). When I found the existing translations unsatisfactory, I offered my own adapted version. In translating Greek proper names, both personal and geographical, I mostly follow Latinized spelling, e.g. Herodotus, Darius, Artemisium. Introduction

The Modern Herodotus

In recent decades Herodotean studies have undergone a fundamental rebirth. The recognition that factual and fictional writing are subject to similar rules1 has done much to bridge the gap between the opposing titles of ‘father of history’2 and ‘father of lies’3 traditionally attributed to Herodotus. Herodotus no longer qualifies for the role of the untruthful and naïve storyteller. Researchers have come to realize that even Plutarch’s strictures on the supposed false- hoods of Herodotus or Fehling’s old-fashioned, stern criticism of Herodotus’ sources, applied sensibly, can help to illuminate Herodotus’ method.4 The focus has now shifted to Herodotus’ self-conscious narrative techniques and the nature of his authority as narrator.5 Placing the author in the background of the contemporary scientific, political and cultural (including rhetorical) developments of the mid to late fifth century6 has significantly contributed

1 See Genette 1993: 54–84. Hence the mutually complementary nature of the historiographical and literary aspects. On this, see White 1984; Barthes 1986: 127–40 (esp. p. 138: “historical discourse is essentially an ideological elaboration or, to be more specific, an imaginary elaboration” [his italics]); Hornblower 1994b: 133–4. 2 See Cicero Laws 1.1.5. 3 See Juan Luis Vives (sixteenth century a.d.) De Disciplinis Libri xii. See also Plutarch’s attack on Herodotus’ ‘malice’ (Plutarch On the Malice of Herodotus). In modern times, see Armayor 1985; West, S. 1985; Fehling 1989. 4 Fowler’s (1996: 86) formulation puts this in very neat terms: “He [i.e. Herodotus] did not invent his sources; he discovered the problem of sources” (his italics). For Fehling, see Luraghi 2001a: 139; Cartledge and Greenwood 2002: 353–4. Contrast Dover’s seminal anti- Fehling chapter (1998), and Pritchett’s vehement criticism (1993) of Fehling 1989, Hartog 1988 and West, S. 1985. Cf. the balanced review of Pritchett 1993 by Kwintner in bmcr 1994. For Plutarch, see Baragwanath 2008 (esp. pp. 9–22); Kurke 2011: 382–97. 5 On the Herodotean narrator and his strategies, see e.g. Dewald 1998; 2002; 2006a: 170–5; Marincola 1987; Darbo-Peschanski 1987: 107–12, 164–89; Brock 2003; de Jong 1999; 2002; Luraghi 2006 (esp. pp. 85–8); Lateiner 1989: 30–4, 55–108 (passim); Munson 2001; Flower and Marincola 2002: 4–9; Kurke 2011: 361–431. On the creation of Herodotus’ authority, see Müller 1981; Calame 1995: 75–96; Marincola 1997; Goldhill 2002a: 10–30. 6 See Fowler 1996; 2006; Thomas 1993; 1997; 2000; 2006; Lateiner 1986; Raaflaub 2002; Scullion 2006; Romm 2006; Forsdyke 2006; Winton 2000: 101–11. On Herodotus’ relation to the sophistic movement in particular, see Dihle 1962; Comparini 1971; Hunter 1982; Hartog 1988; Rood 2010. Specifically on Herodotus’ rhetorical awareness, see Moles 1996: 269–70; Murnaghan 2001; Grethlein 2010: 149–204; Scardino 2007; Pelling 2012. Most scholars date the publication of

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��5 | doi ��.��63/9789004283589_002 2 Introduction to bringing him up-to-date. Herodotus is nowadays widely recognized as the father of a whole new genre which, on account of its hybridity,7 may be compared to Plato’s Socratic dialogues.8 Despite the surge in scholarship and modernizing of Herodotus, research into Herodotean speech is flagging and Herodotean rhetoric is still considered quite ‘archaic’.9 Recent work on Herodotus shows that scholars find it hard to appreciate his rhetoric in full and on its own terms.10 Homeric influence on Herodotus in the extensive use of direct speech and the diversity of speeches goes without saying, and much of the material presented in the Histories belongs to the archaic period, largely dependent on oral traditions which give the Histories its distinctly conversational colour. Indeed, a great deal of focus has been laid on philosophical and bedroom conversations reported in direct speech and embedded in Herodotus’ short stories (novellas), mainly in the first four books. Despite the fact that in Herodotus, as in Homer, words and actions are both inextricable parts of the narrative, many speeches still await close treatment. In the field of historiographical rhetoric, Thucydides prevails with his demegories, formal debates and exhortations, and their symmetrical, antithetical arrangement, rooted in the end of the fifth century. Herodotus’ sophistic background and his relationship to Thucydides in terms of rhetoric have a less prominent position. And this notwithstanding the fact that the bonds between the founders of the western historiographical tradition have been readdressed and reassessed so much so that the two historians are considered

the Histories between 430 and 425/4 B.C. (which is my view as well); some push for a date as late as 414. On Herodotus’ publication date, see Fornara 1971a: 75–91; 1971b; 1981; Sansone 1985; Evans 1987; Gould 1989: 18; Johnson 1994; Hornblower 1996: 25–8; Moles 1996: 260; Fowler 2003a: 305–7; Stadter 2012a: 2 and n. 4; Moles (2002: 34 n. 13) gives a good bibliography on the topic. Scholars also hold today that, on the basis of the Histories’ oral features, Herodotus was very likely reciting parts of his work before its publication (see Murray 1987; Evans 1991: 89–146; Thomas 1989; 1992: 103–4, 125–6; 1993; Luraghi 2001a). 7 On Herodotus’ genre, see Lateiner 1989: 13–51; Boedeker 2000; Luraghi 2006. On the generic flexibility of Greek and Roman historiography more generally, see Marincola 1999. 8 As it mixes higher with lowly literary genres, hence it has a seriocomic character: see Kurke 2011: 244, 262–3, 367; cf. Moles 1996: 264 (on the Histories’ grave and playful nature). 9 Although ‘archaic’ is a relative term as many scholars would agree that even Homer shows a high level of rhetorical elaboration. 10 See e.g. Flower and Marincola (2002: 7): “. . . their [i.e. the speeches’] very number and variety show H. [i.e. Herodotus] an imitator of Homer and the product of a primarily oral society”; Fox and Livingstone 2007: 548. Introduction 3 near contemporaries. Most histories of rhetoric mention Herodotus but consider him to be closer to Homer—this, however, is only half the story.11

Herodotean Speech: Methodology

This study of Herodotean speech attempts to rebalance this picture, bringing to bear the modernizing approach applied to other areas of Herodotus. The fundamental remit of this work is to show that in the Histories there is great interest in the rhetorical situation per se; that speakers are very well aware of the process of manipulating and adapting their arguments to suit the particular audience, and they do so systematically. Speakers engage in discursive strategies in order to successfully persuade their audience, and use custom-made argumentation to appeal to the expectations and psychology of their particular audience, while the Aristotelian categories of ethos and pathos appear to play an important part in persuasion. This study further aims to show that Herodotus is in control of his work but that this control does not deprive the different voices of their validity, importance and independence, nor does it limit the scope of interpretation. This book will examine the direct and indirect speeches attributed to characters in books 5–9 of the Histories. Herodotean rhetoric will be seen in association with the literary tradition, embedded as firmly as possible in the late fifth century. It will be demonstrated that Herodotus occupies a crucial place in the development of rhetoric, anticipates a range of elements that we find in Thucydides, and influences later rhetorical developments, particularly those listed in the early rhetorical handbooks: Aristotle’s Rhetoric and the Rhetoric to Alexander.12 A key aspect that will concern us here is the relationship between speech and narrative context: I shall explore the ways in which Herodotean speeches, when read in context, highlight and problematize the wider themes of fragile Greek unity and the Greco-Persian polarity. Based on the close relationship between speech and narrative, I will argue that Herodotus presents us with a highly sophisticated and distinctive rhetorical system, which has important implications for his authority and the relationship with his readers, and constitutes a kind of

11 One exception is Kennedy (1963: 44–6), who notes Herodotus’ interest in etymologies and philology, antithesis, subtlety of argument (argument from probability), rhetorical questions, and maxims. 12 The Rhetoric to Alexander is considered a pseudo-Aristotelian treatise but is also frequently attributed to Anaximenes. On the content, dating and authorship of the treatise, see most recently Chiron 2007; 2011. 4 Introduction metahistory, a metadiscourse on the nature of rhetoric and the purpose of his Histories. The hermeneutical framework of this study is based on three central prem- ises regarding the nature of speech: a) the speeches are Herodotus’ own creation; b) speech includes characters’ utterances reported in direct and indirect discourse; c) direct and indirect speech are equally amenable to manipulation. Of particular concern is the way Herodotus presents the speeches in his text as an expression of what should have been said in each case.13 This makes the speeches amenable to a greater degree of rhetorical elaboration. Aspects of reliability and falsification are, therefore, not strictly relevant to my subject. Nevertheless, however even-handed Herodotus might seem to be,14 the role of his sources in reporting speeches cannot be ignored altogether, as they often appear to play some part in Herodotus’ decision to quote (or not) a speech in direct or indirect discourse, or to prolong or shorten it. It is worth stating at the outset that I take rhetoric to encompass all kinds of speech voiced by characters other than the narrator in the text, recorded either in direct or indirect discourse and introduced by a verb of speaking. I will not make any further distinction between the sub-categories of direct and indirect discourse, but in some cases I will point out the usage of a third kind of speech mode, the ‘Record of Speech Act’ (rsa) introduced by Laird.15 rsa can be defined as a more strict and remote form of indirect speech which summarizes the content of an utterance. It is, therefore, often not at all easy to distinguish rsa from indirect discourse. I largely include rsa in indirect speech, unless it makes a difference to the text and helps to better bring out my argument. Speeches are only one of a number of verbal acts of persuasion. I will also include under this heading letters, messages, written or inscribed (divine messages, i.e. oracles, are excluded unless they are embedded in speeches), and speeches encompassed in digressions to corroborate my points where appropriate. Speeches attributed to Herodotus’ sources (e.g. ‘the Persians/Spartans/ Athenians say . . .’) or to non-specific individuals (e.g. ‘it is said . . .’), reported

13 Cf. Flower (2006: 278): “Speech and dialogue, as an inheritance from epic and tragic poetry, are certainly Herodotus’ own free invention”. 14 See e.g. the largely unbiased treatment of Greeks and Persians, Athenians and Spartans (e.g. 9.64.1, on Pausanias’ fairest victory at Plataea; 7.139, on the contribution of the Athenians to the war), and the Ionian Greeks in the Ionian revolt (Baragwanath 2008: 160–202). 15 See Laird 1999: 99–101. He explains rsa as follows (p. 99): “We are given merely an indication that something was said or thought and we have much less information about the original utterance”. Introduction 5 in indirect discourse—what de Bakker calls ‘informant-speeches’—16are additionally taken in to complement my analysis. However, since these are frequently undeveloped and, where they are developed, it is rarely possible to separate with confidence the primary narrator from his sources, I treat them fairly often as narrative where the focalizer is other than the narrator. I will also develop the claim that direct and indirect speech carry the same possibility of manipulation or truthfulness. Oratio recta has traditionally been considered to be closer to reality than oratio obliqua, which has been generally viewed as a means to create distance between the event and both the narrator and the immediate narrative context—in other words, a means to express either disbelief or scepticism.17 A simple glance at Thucydides 1.22.1 alone, however, shows otherwise. When Thucydides, unusually, gives us an insight into the process of (re)composing speech in historical narrative, he actually admits that his direct speeches are merely approximate reconstructions of what was really said.18 In consequence of the realization that factual and fictional narratives operate under similar rules, recent scholarly work has shown with increasing frequency lately that in both types of texts the choice between direct and indirect discourse is a matter of authorial preference. Hence it is contingent on stylistic purposes. The use of direct speech is not necessarily a sign of reliability or importance; nor does the use of indirect speech automatically point to fabrication, authorial scepticism or insignificance.19

16 See de Bakker 2007: 6, 160. These speeches do not necessarily imply that certain individuals told Herodotus the story, but they might—and they most likely do—refer to current traditions. 17 See Gould 1994: 96. Cf. Cooper 1974; Waters 1985: 69, 79; Gould 1989: 50–1; Lateiner 1989: 22–3; Calame 1995: 81–2. 18 See Thuc. 1.22.1: “My method has been to make each speaker say broadly what I supposed would have been needed on any given occasion, while keeping as closely as I could to the overall intent of what was actually said”. Herodotus’ comment in 3.80.1 that the speeches in the Constitutional Debate (on which see below, pp. 146–51) were truly spoken, apart from its cultural and political implications might also express a similar, wider concern about the truthfulness of speeches in historical texts. 19 See Laird 1999: 116–52 (he uses Latin literature as his main test case). For similar comments on historiography, oratory and drama, see Bers 1997: 219–25. For Greco-Roman historiography in general, see Brock 1995: 209; cf. Foster’s discussion of the wide functional spectrum of indirect discourse in the ancient historians (2012a). For Herodotus, see Lateiner 1989: 20–21; Feeney 2007: 243 n. 28; Harrison 2000a: 25–30, 248–50; Mikalson 2003: 145; de Bakker 2007: 36–48, 160–78; 2012: 124–5; de Jong 2004: 109; 2012b: 131–2. For Thucydides, see Hornblower 2008: 32–5 (books 5.25–8.109). For Herodotus and Thucydides, see Scardino 2012 (on the form and role of indirect discourse). 6 Introduction

In exploring Herodotean speech as defined above, I employ three notions which can be fruitfully applied to this study: performativity, dialogue and metahistory. These three key theoretical concepts define a series of relationships: between speech and narrative; between Herodotus and his text; between Herodotus and his readers; between Herodotus and previous/contemporary literature. The concept of performativity can neatly describe the relationship between speech and narrative. Taking cue from Homer’s heroic code which requires that one be both a ‘speaker of words and doer of deeds’ (Il. 9.442–3: Phoenix to Achilles),20 Herodotus links speech and narrative/action closely. He may not establish the logos-ergon antithesis in his own voice like Thucydides (1.22.1–2: καὶ ὅσα μὲν λόγῳ εἶπον . . . τὰ δὲ ἔργα τῶν πραχθέντων . . . ),21 but he introduces it in the mouth of the Persian king Darius,22 who emphasizes the need for combined words and actions in the context of the Persian conspiracy against the false Smerdis.23 From then on, the logos-ergon opposition comes up recurrently in the work, more or less explicitly.24 The relationship between speech and narrative, central to my approach, covers highly varied aspects of interac-

20 See most importantly Parry 1981: 21–7. 21 On the logos-ergon polarity in Thucydides, see Luschnat 1942; Hunter 1973; Parry 1981; Macleod 1983: 52–67, 88–122; Ober 1998: 53–63; Morrison 2006. Note that, for Thucydides, the best example of an individual combining excellence in both speech and action is Pericles, whom he describes as λέγειν τε καὶ πράσσειν δυνατώτατος “a man of the greatest ability both with words and in action” (Thuc. 1.139.4). 22 With interesting consequences both for Herodotus’ negotiation of the Greco-Persian polarity and his authority since Darius frequently features as Herodotus’ mouthpiece (cf. below, p. 26 and n. 128). 23 See Hdt. 3.72.2: Ὀτάνη, [ἦ] πολλά ἐστι τὰ λόγῳ μὲν οὐκ οἷά τε δηλῶσαι, ἔργῳ δέ· ἄλλα δ’ ἐστὶ τὰ λόγῳ μὲν οἷά τε, ἔργον δὲ οὐδὲν ἀπ’ αὐτῶν λαμπρὸν γίνεται “Otanes, there are many occasions when words are useless, and only deeds will make a man’s meaning plain; often enough, too, it is easy to talk—and only to talk, for no brave act follows”. Cf. Hdt. 3.134.6: ταῦτα εἶπε καὶ ἅμα ἔπος τε καὶ ἔργον ἐποίεε. Note also Herodotus’ praise of Demaratus, which brings the latter close to the Homeric ideal of heroism: ἄλλα τε Λακεδαιμονίοισι συχνὰ ἔργοισί τε καὶ γνώμῃσι ἀπολαμπρυνθείς “he had been a man of the highest distinction in Sparta, both in action and in counsel” (6.70.3). 24 E.g. Hdt. 3.134.6; 5.24.1, 74.1; 7.135.1; 9.79.2, 92.1. And more implicitly at 8.144 and 9.27 (Athenians: “time to act and not to talk”). The same opposition lays at the heart of the typical Herodotean figure of the ‘wise adviser’, the man who advises another man who yearns to act impetuously. Introduction 7 tion: speech and narrative may reflect, anticipate, support, verify, complement, explain, exemplify or undermine one another.25 Performativity—otherwise known as ‘speech-act theory’, first defined by Austin as the ability of the words to perform certain actions, to ‘do’ certain things—26brings speech and action very close and further complements the broader performative function of the Histories. In a wider sense, the Histories is a performance as it, or at least parts of it, was written to be delivered in front of an audience,27 or even in the sense that it is a written public display of a performance.28 The performative quality of speech may thus reinforce the sense of an actual performance. It may even invite readers to visu- alize the content as a dramatic, stage performance. In a narrower sense and along the lines of speech-act theory, the text of the Histories performs certain functions/actions, such as glorification and preservation of memory, advice, warning, persuasion, prediction,29 or, alternatively, “performs and enacts the speaking historian’s research”.30 On the other hand and on a more specific level, various kinds of (metanarrative) sentences have different performative roles and thus serve the performative functions of the narrative of the Histories as a whole.31 Barker32 has further elaborated the performativity of the Histories, suggesting that Herodotus’ representation of debate challenges the usefulness of public institutions and invites readers to perform a similar kind of dissent in fulfilling their role as citizens through the process of reading. In this book, I intend to move the discussion one step further by arguing that there is a strong link specifically between speech and the wider narrative themes of the Greco-Persian polarity and Greek disunity. This link can be

25 On aspects of the close affinity between Herodotean speech and narrative, see Solmsen 1943; 1944; Pelling 1991: 131–2; 1997a: 56–8; 2000: 10–12; 2002; 2006c; Scardino 2007: 60–382; Barker 2009: 144–202. 26 On the theory of performativity (speech-act theory), see first and foremost Austin 1962; see also Searle 1969; 1976; 1979. On its implementation to the study of literature, see Pratt 1977; Petrey 1990. 27 On the orality of the Histories, see above, p. 2 n. 6. 28 See Nagy (1990: 220): “The historiā ‘inquiry’ that he [i.e. Herodotus] says he is presenting in the proem of the Histories is not a public oral performance as such, but it is a public demonstration of an oral performance, by way of writing” (his bold and italics). 29 See Nagy 1990: 215–338 (comparing the function and content of the Histories to those of Pindar’s ainos); Munson 1993: 27; 2001: 16. 30 See Bakker 2006: 95. 31 See Munson 1993; 2001; 2005. 32 See Barker 2009: 144–202. Cf. also Barker 2006: 24–7 for a similar performative reading of the ambiguity of Croesus’ oracular consultations. 8 Introduction usefully described as ‘performative’. Speech does not just represent the narrative themes in many and complex ways; it actually performs these themes. For example, when in books 5–9 the Greeks in their speeches accuse and deceive one another, fight over leadership, pursue their personal interests, threaten to betray the Greek cause, and contemplate taking the side of the Persians all this performs Greek disunity. In particular, I will focus on the content and argumentation of the speeches; on the interaction of speeches in debate scenes; on the structure of the narrative and the placement of the speeches within the narrative; on the use of different speech modes and their selective attribution to certain individuals and groups; on the use of specific language within speeches; and on the language that frames or describes speeches. Another important notion for this study of Herodotean rhetoric is that of dialogue. A series of overlapping dialogues is unfolded with reference to the Histories: Herodotus is in dialogue with the literary tradition, with his contemporary intellectual and cultural context, with his readers, and with the voices of the characters in his text, while the speeches themselves are in dialogue with one another and with the narrative context. In the main body of the book (chapters 1, 2, 3 and 4) we will tackle dialogue with literary genres, texts and authors, and developments in the field of oratory. That is, we will be concerned with intertextuality.33 In the Conclusion, our interest will turn to the Bakhtinian concept of dialogism, the dialogue generated by the presence of diverse voices and vantage points in the text, the characters’, the author’s and his readers’. The concept of intertextuality conveys a complex web of connections between texts and authors which may cover conscious or unconscious, and direct or indirect, echoes, allusions, links, parallels, debt and influence.34 Herodotus goes for both tradition and innovation.35 There is a remarkable network of interweaving intertextualities at work in the Histories which affects the use of speech. By firmly embedding himself in the literary tradition, Herodotus not only strengthens his authority but also highlights the originality of his

33 Introduced by Julia Kristeva (Kristeva 1980a [written in 1966 and first published in 1967 in French as ‘Bakhtin, le mot, le dialogue et le roman’ in Critique 23: 438–65]). For classical studies, see the definition of intertextuality by Conte 1986: 29. For an overview of the application of intertextuality to classical studies, see Fowler 2000a; cf. ocd4 s.v. literary theory and the classics. 34 On the nature and importance of intertextuality particularly in speeches in ancient historians, see Marincola 2010. 35 For a detailed discussion of the effort of the Greco-Roman historians to achieve the right balance between tradition and innovation, see Marincola 1997 (esp. pp. 217–57); cf. Marincola 1999. Introduction 9 rhetoric. This continuous interaction invites the reader to detect similarities and differences, and thus become aware of the process by which given motifs are enriched and consequently achieve a better understanding of the text. We will also discuss and highlight internal intertextuality (intratextuality), which refers to implicit or explicit cross-references and recurring patterns in terms of stories, motifs or arguments that further reveal Herodotus’ highly intricate and distinctive rhetorical system. The interaction with the literary context at the same time acquires a more antagonistic character. Herodotus is seen to position himself in relation to literary models and contemporary developments, whereby he strives to prove the value and usefulness of his prose enterprise.36 Given the absence of explicit methodological statements, Herodotus employs more indirect, hence more challenging, ways to demarcate his new genre and approach. The concept of metahistory, as coined by White,37 effectively describes a range of more or less explicit strategies that serve to criticize other literature38 and self-reflexively comment upon the utility of Herodotus’ history. Speech may also serve a metahistorical function which will be discussed with reference to Herodotus’ authority, to the relationship with his readers and to his historiographical purposes in the Conclusion.

36 See esp. Lloyd 1987; Fowler 1996; 2006; Thomas 2000; 2006. On inter-generic competition in Herodotus, see Lateiner 1989: 91–108 (including documents and oral sources); Boedeker 2000: 103–8; Marincola 1987; Darbo-Peschanski 1987: 112; Purves 2010: 118–58 (cartogra- phy); Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012a and selected essays in 2012b (mythical material). Specifically on Herodotus’ (and Thucydides’) stance towards poetry, see Verdin 1977. On Herodotus’ polemic stance in his proem, see Wȩcowski 2004 (against Greek traditions); Rood 2010 (against the spatial and temporal framework of literary traditions). 37 See White 1973. Note esp. pp. ix–x (‘Preface’): “they [i.e. histories and philosophies of history] contain a deep structural content which is generally poetic, and specifically linguistic, in nature, and which serves as the precritically accepted paradigm of what a distinctively ‘historical’ explanation should be. This paradigm functions as the ‘metahistorical’ element in all historical works that are more comprehensive in scope than the monograph or archival report . . . I have been forced to postulate a deep level of consciousness on which a historical thinker chooses conceptual strategies by which to explain or represent his data. On this level, I believe, the historian performs an essentially poetic act, in which he prefigures the historical field and constitutes it as a domain upon which to bring to bear the specific theories he will use to explain ‘what was really happening’ in it” (his italics); p. 13: “historical explanations are bound to be based on different metahistorical presuppositions about the nature of the historical field, presuppositions that generate different conceptions of the kind of explanations that can be used in historiographical analysis” (his italics). 38 Cf. Thucydides’ deprecation of the flawed and incomplete methods of his predecessors. 10 Introduction

A few narratological notions related to the handling of time are also important for this study. The pace of the narrative, that is, the relationship between story duration and textual space,39 is often vital when deciding on the length of speeches and the speech modes, especially when the economy of the narrative and the build-up of suspense40 are in question. Analepses (flashbacks) and prolepses (flashforwards)41 are very useful as they corroborate internal intertextuality (in the form of repeated patterns) and keep readers engaged. Prolepses also create suspense and point outside the scope of the Histories, thus highlighting its timeless purpose.

Narrative Themes

This study revolves around two major narrative themes: the self-other polarity and the fragility of Greek unity. This section discusses the scholarly trends (and their evolution) in interpreting Herodotus’ treatment of these themes and expounds my assessment of his treatment. It further compares Herodotus’ exploitation of the themes with the ways these are utilized in earlier, contemporary and later literature, as well as making a case for the importance of speech in Herodotus’ dealing with these themes.

Self and Other, Greeks and Barbarians The relationship between Greeks and barbarians/Persians is at the centre of an ongoing debate which still generates a great deal of scholarly work. An important paradigm shift has lately changed the terms of this debate. Older studies considered the Persian Wars the catalyst for the framing of the Greco- barbarian distinction,42 and tended to present a polarized view of the relationship between Greeks and barbarians in fifth-century Greek literature—the Greeks constructed the others based on a negative: the barbarians were simply the opposite of themselves.43 Aided by modern research in Eastern empires

39 On narrative pace/duration, see Genette 1980: 86–112; 1993: 63–4. 40 On suspense, see below, p. 49 n. 65. 41 On analepses and prolepses, see Genette 1980: 33–85; 1993: 58–63. 42 On the role of the Persian Wars in the development of the distinction, see Hall 1989: 1–55, 160–200 (she also discusses the role of Aeschylus’ Persians); Mitchell 2007: 10–38; Nippel 2002: 288–93; Hall 1997: 44–8; 2002: 172–89. 43 See first and foremost Hartog 1988 (on Herodotus) and Hall 1989 (on tragedy). On the separation between Greeks and barbarians, see also Lateiner 1989: 163–86; Cartledge 1990; 20022: 51–77; Hall 2002; Steiner 1994: 127–85. On polarity as one of the prevalent modes of argumentation in Greek thought, see Lloyd 1966 (esp. pp. 15–171). On the role of Introduction 11

(especially Achaemenid Persia)44 and by studies in the fluidity of ethnic identities in antiquity,45 recent scholarly work accepts more flexible notions of the dichotomy and tends to detect elements that challenge, or collapse, the opposition between Greeks and barbarians.46 The challenging of the self-other distinction has further reinvigorated Herodotean studies. Herodotus’ stance towards the barbarians is now considered quite complex. There exists a gap between Greeks and barbarians/Persians in the Histories but this is very often bridged and frequently undermined.47 Whether viewed as subject to a gradual progression from an initially ethnocentric account of foreign customs to a diversified representation,48 or as displaying cultural fusion throughout, the Histories points both to resemblances and differences between Greeks and barbarians. Herodotus is tampering with and tempering the Greco-Persian division, and his representation of speech plays a very important role in this. Such a statement might seem misleading at first, given that the Persians speak Greek in Herodotus’ text: they use both Greek language and Greek categories. The use of Greek language is a practicality which Colvin, observing a similar attitude in

different kinds of polarity in the construction of the Greek self-image, see Cartledge 20022. On polarity as an important device in the Histories, see Cartledge and Greenwood 2002: 363–71. 44 Vibrant cultural interaction took place between Greeks and barbarians during the archaic period but also in the course of the fifth century b.c., and affected them both. See e.g. Burkert 1992; Georges 1994; West 1997; Miller 1997; Mitchell 2007: 113–28; Skinner 2012; Vlassopoulos 2013 (archaic down to hellenistic period). 45 See e.g. the collections by Derks and Roymans 2009; Malkin 2001; Dougherty and Kurke 2003; Whitmarsh 2010. Surveys of the changeability of ethnic boundaries in antiquity are heavily indebted to Barth’s 1969 anthropological study of the cultural constructedness of the concept of ethnicity in the modern world. 46 See e.g. Mitchell 2007: 1–38; Harrison 2002a; Hall 2006: 184–224. 47 Several studies have explored the undermining or deconstruction of any fixed polarization between Greeks and barbarians/Persians in the Histories and from different perspectives, arguing for a complicated opposition: see e.g. Pelling 1997a; Dewald 1990: 220–1; Georges 1994: 115–66, 167–206; Cartledge 1995; Thomas 2000: 122–34; Munson 2001; 2005; Redfield 2002; Isaac 2004: 56–60, 261–74; Flower and Marincola 2002: 37–9; Flower 2006; Bowie 2007: 6–8; Gruen 2011a: 21–39 (cf. his slightly revised version in 2011b); Gray 1996; Kurke 1999: 65–171. Specifically on Athens as Persia’s successor, see Strasburger 1955; Fornara 1971a; Konstan 1987: 72–3; Raaflaub 1987; 2002: 164–83; Boedeker 1988; Ostwald 1991; Stadter 1992; Moles 1996; 2002; Blösel 2001; Fowler 2003a; Dewald 1997. On Sparta and Persia, see Lewis 1977: 148–52; Stadter 2012a. On Herodotus’ work as a universal warning against the dangers of imperial conquest, see Moles 2002: 49–52; Ward 2008. 48 See Rood 2006: 290–305. 12 Introduction

Thucydides and Xenophon, attributes to generic conventions that excluded the representation of foreign languages. Herodotus clearly demonstrates awareness of foreign languages (as well as Greek dialects) and occasionally mentions difficulties in communication (e.g. use of interpreters). Most researchers would agree that Herodotus’ interest in language is not linguistic but largely ethnographic.49 But Munson50 has compellingly proposed that Herodotus’ complex engagement with the ethno-cultural divide may even be played out at the level of language: Herodotus uses linguistic diversity to undermine the Greco-barbarian polarity. As far as Greek categories are concerned, the Persians (especially Artabanus) regularly employ Greek notions such as φθόνος, τίσις, ὕβρις, δίκη, echo sophistic reasoning51 or call upon Greek gods. Although all this reflects to some extent Greek views—very likely in an attempt to familiarize the audience with the Persians—it is not a sufficient indication that the Persians use Greek rhetoric in the Histories. It has been argued that Herodotus is not merely projecting Greek thinking on to the barbarians.52 Achaemenid inscriptions paint a picture of restricted freedom in the Persian court53 and the Bisitun Inscription is important evidence of Persian political propaganda.54 More importantly, recent work has demonstrated that the barbarians were actively immersed in a process of adapting and manipulating the past and their traditions, as well as those of other peoples, including the Greeks, to serve imperialistic purposes, and this is also evidenced by the Histories.55 For example, in Herodotus’ text Xerxes visits Troy, sacrifices to the Trojan Athena and honours the local heroes

49 See Colvin 1999: 57–9, 73–4. See also Harrison 1998. 50 See Munson 2005. 51 See e.g. Darius’ experiment proving the power of νόμος (3.38); the debate on the constitutions (3.80–2); Artabanus’ argumentation in the royal council scene (7.8–11). 52 Cf. e.g. Brock 2004: 176. Cf. also the interesting discussion by Heath (2005: 192–201): focusing on language, he contends that the representation of the barbarian by the Greeks was not merely a construct nor wholly invented; the relationship between Greeks and barbarians was very complex. 53 See e.g. Harrison 2011; Hanson 2001: 32–9. 54 For text and commentary on the Bisitun Inscription, see Brosius 2006 (esp. pp. 27–40). 55 On Persian fiddling with Greek traditions, see Georges 1994 (Greek narratives in general); Haubold 2007 (Greek epic); Munson 2009 (Greek myths); Saïd 2012: 95–6 (Trojan War); cf. also Gruen 2011a: 38–9. Ctesias’ fragments fgrHist 688 F 1b (2 and 22) and F 5 (32.4) further reinforce Herodotus’ claims about Persian appropriations of the Greek epic (cf. Haubold 2007: 57–8; Munson 2009: 467 n. 46). On Herodotus’ Egyptian and other non- Greek informants moulding their traditions, see Moyer 2002, and more extensively 2011: 42–83. Introduction 13

(7.43), as well as resorting to the myth of the Persians’ Argive origin (7.150).56 Artaÿctes, the Persian governor of Sestus, seizes and profanes the temple of Protesilaus, the first Greek to step on Trojan land (Il. 2.701–2), at Elaeus to punish him for attacking the king’s territory (7.33; 9.116).57 An inclination to (self) mythicizing permeates Mardonius’ rhetoric and his textual representation, which interrelate with Greek epic and tragic patterns relevant to the Trojan War.58 Herodotus’ depiction of Persia, then, does not only reflect Greek but also Persian prejudice. Hence, the distinction between Greek and Persian speech matters, and Herodotus also takes advantage of this to promote the Greeks’ understanding of both themselves and the others. Herodotus’ personal interest in foreign cultures and in exploring and prob- lematizing the Greco-barbarian polarity has familiar and plausible explanations. These include the multi-ethnic character of his birthplace, Halicarnassus, his reported connections with the panhellenic colony of Thurii (444/3 b.c.),59 as well as the rich intertextual environment in which Herodotus was writing. The preoccupation with the foreign and exotic ‘other’ was inherited from Homer and Aeschylus’ Persians and Suppliants, while several ethnographers and mythographers, earlier than or nearly contemporary with Herodotus, composed works about foreign, especially eastern, peoples and cultures.60 The process of challenging the self-other polar opposition can be traced back as early as Homer but became mainstream after, and due to, the Persian Wars and in Herodotus’ own time.61

56 That this is attributed to a Greek source (7.150.1: λόγος λεγόμενος ἀνὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα) does not preclude Persian usage of Greek traditions. Cf. also Jones 1999: 29; Vannicelli 2012: 260 and n. 19. Note also Xerxes’ references to the Phrygian Pelops (7.8γ.1, 11.4). 57 On the story of Artaÿctes and Protesilaus (Hdt. 9.116–20), see Boedeker 1988. 58 See Baragwanath 2012b. 59 According to Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1409a27, Herodotus commences his Histories with the phrase “this is the display of the investigation of Herodotus of Thurii” (Ἡροδότου Θουρίου). Cf. Suda s.v. Ἡρόδοτος; Steph. Byz. s.v. Θούριοι. Note that Cartledge (1997: 31) sees Thucydides’ different attitude towards the barbarians as influenced by his negative attitude towards his Thracian origin. 60 E.g. Hecataeus’ Circuit of the World, Scylax’s Periplous; works on Persia: the Persica of Dionysius of Miletus, Hellanicus of Lesbos and Charon of Lampsacus; other accounts possibly concerned with Eastern history: On Lydia and the Aegyptiaca of Hellanicus, and the Lydiaca of Xanthus of Lydia. For a full list of Herodotus’ prose predecessors and contemporaries and their works, see Fowler 2006: 39–41. On works on Eastern history and their potential relationship to Herodotus’ text, see Drews 1973: 20–44, 99–103. 61 Pelling (1997b: 18–19) detects the motif in the Iliad, Aeschylus’ Persians, Sophocles’ Ajax, and Herodotus. 14 Introduction

In the Iliad Greeks and barbarians are represented in remarkably similar colours: they speak the same language, share the same political organization and customs, and venerate the same gods. Scenes such as that between Achilles and Priam bring the two peoples very close together.62 There seems to be no distinction between Greeks and barbarians, and the word βάρβαρος appears only as a compound in the word βαρβαρόφωνος, which is used only once to describe the language of the non-Greek speaking Carians (Il. 2.867). Still, Homer indicates differences between the enemies: the Achaeans are war- like whereas the Trojans are domestic; in contrast with the common Achaean language, the Trojans speak many different languages (Il. 4.437–8); most importantly, the noisy Trojans (especially when they attack) are juxtaposed with the silent Achaeans (which can be taken as a distinction between control, order, discipline and lack of these).63 Mackie has argued that Homer even employs language to separate the two cultures.64 In Herodotus, Greeks and Persians never come as close together as Achaeans and Trojans in Homer. Nevertheless, the representation of the barbarian as not so dissimilar after all is an element Herodotus shares with Homer.65 Aeschylus’ Persians is considered the earliest proof of a distinction between Greeks and barbarians.66 However, this does not justify entirely an exclusively patriotic reading67 that discards any sympathy for the opponent.68 Nor does this exclude a more nuanced handling of the distinction at the hands of the poet. In several passages the Persians are pictured as lacking discipline, including emotional discipline, and order, but Aeschylus also presents the Persian army as victorious, irresistible and brave. The dramatist emphasizes differences in the language of the barbarians by citing exotic and foreign words, lists

62 On evidence of a nascent form of panhellenism in Homer, see Ross 2009 (he calls it ‘proto-Panhellenism’). 63 The foremost example is Il. 4.422–45. See e.g. Colvin 1999: 41–50; Heath 2005: 68. The association between noise and non-Greeks may be also found in Pindar, e.g. Nem. 3.60. 64 See Mackie 1996. She argues, however, that this does not support a negative stereotype of the Trojans, and that Trojan features in Achilles’ language bring the enemies together. 65 See Flower 2006: 275–6. 66 See Hall 1989: 57. 67 For patriotism, see Harrison 2000b (esp. pp. 103–15); Georges 1994: 83 (contempt for the Persians). 68 For balance between sympathy and patriotism, see Gruen 2011a: 9–21; Garvie 2009: xxii; Hall 2006: 209–11. Introduction 15 of names of Persian men,69 and exclamations of grief.70 On the other hand, he represents Greece and Persia as sisters of equal beauty and outstanding stature in Atossa’s dream (Pers. 179–96). The antithesis between Greeks and Persians is both sharply drawn and challenged,71 a strategy which could almost be a prototype of Herodotus’. Just as Aeschylus makes the Persians the theme of his play and focalizes events through Persian eyes, Herodotus’ narrative follows the creation and expansion of the Persian empire, Greece comes in when the Persians turn their interest towards it, and the Histories finishes with the Persians. A comparable tendency to question the differences between Greeks and barbarians is expressed in stronger terms in Aeschylus’ Suppliants, where the Argive Greeks and the Egyptian Danaids are said to have shared origins. Similar trends may be observed in Sophoclean tragedy. But it is in Euripides’ plays that we see the polarity most explicitly problematized and refracted, with Greeks displaying barbarian attributes (lack of nobility and dignity, tendency to excess and cruelty).72 The tragedians use sometimes language to mark the difference between Greeks and barbarians,73 but comedy is the genre which mostly exploits linguistic as well as dialectal differences for comic effect.74 For all its fascination with the barbarians, comedy does not blur the boundaries and the barbarian is generally viewed in a negative and derisive light.75 In both exploring and challenging the opposition between Greeks and barbarian/Persians, Herodotus is evidently not alone but works within a wider intertextual and intellectual framework. Deconstruction of the Greek- barbarian antinomy can be traced in the sophist Antiphon (late fifth century),76

69 Goldhill 2002b suggests that setting lists of Persian personal names against the anonymous Greeks is part of the play’s broader juxtaposition between Greek (democratic) collectivity and barbarian tyranny. 70 On the elaborate style and language of the Persians as marking the Greco-Persian dichotomy, see Hall 1996: 22–5. 71 Aeschylus also presents Darius as a prototype of a monarch (cf. Xenophon’s Cyrus). Cf. the implicit references to the legend that the Greek Perseus was the father of Perses, the ancestor of the Persians, in Aesch. Pers. 79–80, 144–6 (see also Hdt. 7.61, 150–2, 220.4; cf. Hellanicus FGrHist 4 F 59–60). See Pelling 1997b: 13–19; Mitchell 2007: 124–6; Gruen 2011a: 9–21; duBois 1991: 78–94. 72 E.g. Hecuba, Andromache, Helen, The Trojan Women, Iphigeneia among the Taurians. See Hall 1989: 201–23; Saïd 2002b. 73 On foreign language and dialect in tragedy, see Colvin 1999: 74–87. 74 E.g. Pseudartabas in Aristophanes’ Acharnians. 75 On the language of the barbarians in Old Comedy, see Long 1986; Colvin 1999: 287–94; Willi 2003: 198–225; Hall 2006: 227–31. 76 See Thomas 2000: 131–3. 16 Introduction and even the mix of cultural relativism and environmental determinism (in the connection between geography and human character) is shared between Herodotus and the Hippocratics.77 Indeed, more broadly, in his reflection of the popular debate among the sophistic circles about custom (νόμος) vs. nature (φύσις), and the cultural relativism of the sophists we can see that Herodotus’ stance is in keeping with the intellectual climate of his time.78 In this study we shall explore how Herodotus’ rhetoric fleshes out his nuanced and balanced picture of the opposition between Greeks and Persians. Their different values and political dynamics are reflected in their speech. Their interaction in the last five books also reveals comparable cases and draws many similarities which challenge the contrast at the level of structure, allocation, argumentation and manipulation of speech in new and interesting ways.

The Fiction of Greek Unity Among other intellectuals of the fifth and fourth centuries, Thucydides (1.18.2), Aristophanes (Lysistrata 1242–70) and Isocrates (4.85–7) present the Persian Wars as a collective Greek victory or a specifically Spartan-Athenian victory with panhellenic overtones. In the background of later inter-Greek strife, it was imperative to locate past examples of collective action and promote them as such, and the Persian Wars became the hallmark of Greek unity which was long lost.79 The Persian Wars were also important for the articulation of Greek identity and the identities of individual cities (often on the basis of their contribution to the Persian Wars),80 and were consistently exploited by Greek cities to promote their private aspirations. Panhellenic elements exist in abundance in the Histories, but at the same time the hollowness of such claims is repeatedly exposed.81

77 See Gruen 2011a: 39 n. 168. 78 See Thomas 2000: 122–34. Cf. Cartledge 1995: 79–81. 79 On the representation of the Persian Wars in four-century orators and historians, see Marincola 2007d. 80 On the cultural significance of the Persian Wars, from ancient to modern times, see the contributions in Bridges, Hall and Rhodes 2007. 81 On panhellenism as a Greek conquest of Asia in the Histories, see Flower 2000: 69–76. On the representation of Greek disunity in the Histories, see Immerwahr 1966: 225–34. See also Baragwanath 2012b and Bowie 2012 on how the use of certain myths in Herodotus’ narrative points up the problem of creating unity among the Greeks. On problematic Greek unity in Greek history generally, see Walbank 1951. Mitchell (2007: 80–92) provides a concise discussion of the multiform antagonistic relationship between the Greeks during the archaic and classical periods. On the lurking danger of Greek disunity and the Introduction 17

Herodotus praises the feat of the Greeks who worked together and managed to overcome the Persians. On the other hand, he repeatedly stresses that the Greeks only achieved a very shallow kind of unity, and with great difficulty, as fragmenting tendencies are manifest in many forms throughout the narrative.82 Most importantly, not all Greeks cooperated in facing the Persians and quite a few medized. Out of the numerous Greek cities, only some “were loyal to the general cause” (7.145). Although the quarrels and fighting between the Greeks were put aside in view of the Persian attack (7.145.1), the free Greek cities (democracies and oligarchies) pursued, and fought for, their own interests.83 One focal point is the conflicted interests of the Athenians and Spartans. Playing down the other cities to bring to the fore Sparta and Athens is a consistent Herodotean strategy from the beginning of the work, when Croesus looks for Greek allies. Sparta is then for the first time set against Athens, with the former gaining Croesus’ favour as the most powerful (1.53–70). Other tan- gible demonstrations of disunity are scenes of fighting over leadership (e.g. the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians over precedence in the battle line at 9.26–7). The Salamis debates best illuminate the tensions between the Greeks and the individual tendencies towards supremacy. Unity is extremely fragile and can only be imposed by charismatic leaders, like Themistocles at Salamis, whom the Greeks will recognize as such. Greek disputes result in the division of their forces after Mycale (9.114.2), and the implications point to the contemporary situation and the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. Even before the Persian attack, a city’s intervention in the internal affairs of another city suggests highly competitive relations (e.g. Aristagoras’ willingness to help the Naxians in book 5; Spartan interference in Athenian politics). The failure of the Ionian revolt is put down to the fragmentation of the forces, while disunity takes the form of disagreement within

origins of inter-city competition at the time of the Persian Wars, see Stadter 2006; cf. also Tritle 2006 (passim). 82 Cf. also Thucydides’ narration of the conflict between Athens and Sparta after the Persian Wars in his Pentecontaetia. 83 On the care for Greek freedom as dependent on self-interest, see van der Veen 1996: 105– 10; Immerwahr 1966: 215–18; Raaflaub 1987: 240; Munson 1988: 100–2; Baragwanath 2008: 171–8; Stadter 2012a (Spartans). Cf. also Herring (2009: 128): “However, panhellenism was not the norm, certainly not in the fifth century . . . This is not to say that the people did not have a sense of certain overarching identities, like being a Hellene or a Dorian, but that polis identity always came first”. 18 Introduction the same city as well (e.g. the divided opinions of the Athenian generals at Marathon, 6.109.1).84 The picture of a shaky Greek coalition is intensified by the changeability of Greek ethnicity.85 Greekness becomes ambiguous and quite problematic as we are presented with many, and shifting, Greek identities. The two main ethnic groups, the Dorians (chiefly represented by the Spartans) and the Ionians (chiefly represented by the Athenians) are strikingly different, even in terms of language,86 and they have diverse descents. Herodotus never misses a chance to highlight the differences between the Greeks in terms of customs, dialects (1.142), origins and mythical connections, festivals and political organization. All the features that the Athenians claim define Greek ethnicity (8.144.2: common blood, language, religious practices and customs) are challenged in the text. The fluidity of Greek ethnicity is also affected by the blurred Greco- barbarian polarity. Greeks not only work together with the Persians to serve their vested interests (e.g. Aristagoras, Themistocles), but they are also represented as sharing common traits with the barbarians. Herodotus’ sensitivity in matters of unity and identity must have been influenced by his personal experience and the contemporary historical context. If we trust the biographical tradition,87 Herodotus became involved in political infighting in Halicarnassus and then volunteered to go to the panhellenic colony of Thurii where intense disagreement broke out between the colonists.88 The contemporary Peloponnesian War is one major factor that influenced Herodotus’ construction of his narrative and his handling of the relationships between the Greeks, and Herodotus did expect this war to also affect the audience’s reception of his work.89 Among other things, Herodotus may be overemphasizing, for example, the importance of arguments from ethnicity at such an early stage and he certainly dwells intentionally on the seeds of the enmity between Sparta and Athens, while giving indications of their later major conflict for domestic supremacy.

84 Kurke 1999 further argues that, among other texts, Herodotus’ Histories expresses a struggle between the members of the aristocratic elite and between the elite and the people within the Greek city. 85 On the instability of Greek identity, see e.g. Harrison 2009; Irwin and Greenwood 2007a: 29–33 (Histories 5). 86 By contrast, language is a criterion of Greekness for Thucydides (Thuc. 2.68.3–5). 87 See Suda s.v. Ἡρόδοτος. 88 On civil strife at Thurii, see Diod. 12.35. 89 On Herodotus connecting past with present, see e.g. Raaflaub 2010: 197–201. Introduction 19

The literature of the archaic period also shows intense interest in the conflict between city particularism and panhellenism, or between different social strata. The poems of Solon90 and Theognis vividly express social unrest, but, once again, Herodotus’ main intertextual point of reference seems to be Homer’s Iliad, where the wrath of Achilles seriously endangers Greek unity. Closer to Herodotus’ time, Pindar’s odes stress the danger of internal discord,91 while Aeschylus’ Seven Against Thebes in particular also deals with moments of Greek infighting. Inter- and intra-city rivalries as well as intra-Hellenic differences, conflicting interests and contested ethnicity, form a central part of the Histories. Speech is a powerful weapon in Herodotus’ attempt to shed further light on these themes from a different angle. The competition among the Greeks nowhere receives a more lively presentation than in speeches and competitions of words. Ethnicity and kinship are more often than not employed in speeches but are used in manipulative ways, and the same people can claim, disclaim or adjust the same arguments in different contexts to serve individualistic rather than communal purposes. Speeches on the Persian side also pinpoint Greek disunity—92not that the Persians ever manage to take advantage of it.93

Herodotean Rhetoric in Context

Drawing on the available literary evidence in poetry and prose, earlier than and contemporary with Herodotus, this section assembles a picture of the condition of and the developments in the field of rhetoric that might have influenced Herodotean speeches. The analysis will set the scene for the discussion of intertextual links regarding more specific aspects of speech in the ensuing chapters. It will provide an essential footing for describing Herodotus’ rhetoric as a blend of tradition and originality. Despite the fact that there was not yet a systematic theory of rhetoric, prose writers and poets are valuable evidence for articulating such a theory and the interest in speech, persuasion, correct phrasing, and adaptation of

90 On Solon, see e.g. Raaflaub 2001: 89–99. 91 On Pindar, see Isaac 2004: 279–81. 92 E.g. Demaratus (7.235); Artemisia (8.68β.2); Mardonius (7.9β.1–2). Cf. also Gruen (2011a: 21–2), who argues that Demaratus’ speeches at 7.102, 104 separate the Spartans from the rest of the Greeks. Demaratus is one of the best examples of Greek disunity because he finds himself in Persia as a result of his conflict with Cleomenes. 93 On the failure of the Persians to profit from Greek disunity, see Harrison 2002b: 568–9. 20 Introduction argument according to circumstances and purposes, if not fully developed, is already there. Apart from Homer’s seminal role,94 the importance of Hesiod and archaic lyric poetry for the development of later rhetoric has been duly acknowledged.95 Needless to say, many genres employ both direct and indirect speech, which makes it impossible to trace direct influence. That generic conventions and the horizon of expectations of the audience set different standards within each literary genre, does not diminish the value of exploring their rhetoric. Setting Herodotean speech in the late fifth-century context is a difficult task, first and foremost on account of the fragmentary nature of other late sixth- and fifth-century prose writers, historians, ethnographers and mythographers, as well as due to the lack of sufficient evidence from fifth-century oratory. However, the extant works and fragments of the sophists are a helpful guide in showcasing their preoccupation with the art of persuasion.96 A case could also be made for closer affinities between Herodotus and his historiographical predecessors in terms of their use of speech and, despite the regrettable shortage of data, a look at the fragments can elicit some rewarding conclusions. The affiliations between Herodotus and Homer have always been considered significant.97 Homer seems to be the source for many Herodotean narrative features and strategies. Of course, there are major differences as well, and in some cases Herodotus even provides correctives of an evidently Homeric tradition (e.g. 2.116: the story of Helen of Troy).98 Most importantly for our purposes, Homer’s influence on Herodotus’ use of direct speech has been widely

94 For a nice, concise discussion of Homeric speeches, see Scardino (2007: 46–55), who focuses on their triple function (dramatization, characterization, commentary and analysis at the level of the story) that had an influence on Herodotean and Thucydidean speeches. 95 See Walker 2000. Specifically on Hesiod, see Kirby 1990. 96 On early Greek oratory and rhetoric (Homer to late fifth century), see Kennedy 1963: 26–70, and more recently Kennedy 1994: 11–35 (cf. Kennedy 1997a: 7–14). On oratory and rhetoric before the sophists, see Gagarin 2007. For a different version which suggests that formal rhetoric starts with Plato, see Schiappa 1999; Cole 1991. 97 E.g. the elegiac inscription newly discovered in Halicarnassus, dated to the second century b.c., describes Herodotus as ‘the prose Homer’ (v. 43: Ἡρόδοτον τὸν πεζὸν ἐν ἱστορίαισιν Ὅμηρον) (see Lloyd-Jones 1999; Kurke 2011: 383); Longinus in the first century A.D. calls Herodotus ‘most Homeric’ (Subl. 13.3: Ὁμηρικώτατος); Cornford (1907: 137–9) associates Herodotus with the epics and Thucydides with tragedy. 98 On Herodotus and Homer, see e.g. de Jong 1999: 220–3; 2004: 101–2; Boedeker 2002: 97–109; Pelling 2006b; Griffiths 2006: 135–6; Rengakos 2001; 2006; Baragwanath 2008: 35–54; Lateiner 1987; Marincola 2007c; Rutherford 2012; Foster 2012b. Introduction 21 recognized. Speech forms a large part of the Odyssey and especially the Iliad. In the latter epic, persuasion is in the centre of the story, as the main goal is to convince Achilles to return to battle through the use of the right words. The reader’s attention is also drawn to the oratorical skills of the characters (e.g. Il. 3.212–23 on Odysseus and Menelaus). More specific elements of Homeric speech that Herodotus might have adopted entail the use of certain types of arguments, such as maxims, fables, and examples from the past, but also, in some form, the three kinds of speech as defined by Aristotle: deliberative (the majority of Homeric speeches), forensic (e.g. Il. 18.497–508), and epideictic (e.g. Il. 24.723–776). Hesiod’s Theogony betrays concern about rhetoric too, and has been thought to lay out a rhetorical theory that is fleshed out in Works and Days. The former work has been considered an example of epideictic rhetoric, and the latter an amalgam of deliberative and epideictic.99 Essentially epideictic in nature and containing rhetorical arguments, lyric poetry could have provided an important precedent for Herodotus’ use of epideictic elements in his narrative and speeches as well as for the way he develops the characters’ arguments.100 An even greater influence on Herodotus must have been Pindar’s epinician poetry, as well as the elegies of Bacchylides and Simonides. In their odes, Herodotus could find not only examples of combined deliberative, epideictic and forensic elements,101 but also a sense of continuity between past and present through the connection of the individuals praised to their ancestors and mythical heroes. In spite of their different intentions, Herodotus appears to share with Pindar in particular his stance towards diverse traditions of the past, a great deal of which are reported in speeches;102 both Herodotus and Pindar blend myth with history, present their own versions and add different dimensions to the stories. Apart from a Pindaric-like handling of the past, Herodotus seems to be also borrowing the language of the agon (contest) from epinician poetry, notably from Pindar. Herodotus transfers this language to the political arena, as we shall see in the following chapters. Exploring the relationship between historiography and early Greek elegiac and iambic poetry, Bowie traces possible influence in their use of direct speech.103 We do come across direct speeches in iambic poetry but it is their occurrence in narrative

99 See Clay 2007. 100 For a general overview of the use of rhetoric in lyric poetry, see Race 2007. 101 On epideictic elements in Pindar, see Race 1987. 102 See Boedeker 2000: 111–12. Herington 1991 further compares Pindar’s narrative strategies with those of Herodotus. 103 See Bowie 2001: 56, 65. 22 Introduction elegies on historical events in particular (e.g. Mimnermus 13a w; Simonides 14 w), often in the form of prophecies or oracles, that might have had an impact on the employment of speeches by historians.104 Along with epic, drama is the medium that makes the most of direct speech, and tragedy must have extensively influenced Herodotus’ use of speech. Elements which Herodotus shares with tragedy, such as the use of myth, the themes of revenge and moral choice, the mutability of fortune and the fragility of human life, appear also in his speeches, while the use of dialogue is common in episodes which bear tragic colouring.105 Most of tragedy and comedy is built on elaborate arguments which deploy rhetorical devices, and the scene of the agon, the ‘contest of words’, where diverse opinions clash, becomes a typical part of almost every play. The sophistic double arguments and other traits of sophistic rhetoric feature prominently in this genre where all three types of oratory can be identified.106 Nor is speech in historiography a Herodotean invention. There is a long list of predecessors and contemporaries in the field of prose, who wrote genealogi- cal, geographical, ethnographical and historical works. Of most of these only names and titles, or at best a few fragments, have been preserved.107 We are in a better position with Hecataeus since a large number of fragments have survived, but the fragments of Xanthus of Lydia, Stesimbrotus, and Ion of Chios can also provide some information about their use of speech. Speech has a prominent position in Hecataeus’ work. In fact, he starts with speech. Notably, at the beginning of his Genealogies he uses the verb derivative of muthos for his own work and logos for the ridiculous stories of the Greeks: “Hecataeus the Milesian speaks thus (μυθεῖται): I write these things as they seem to me to be true. For many and ridiculous are the stories (λόγοι) of the Greeks, as they appear to me” (FGrHist 1 F 1a). In what might serve as a statement of methodology, a combative and critical spirit against predecessors and contemporaries as well as oral, mythical traditions is evident.108 Comparable

104 On Herodotus and past poetry, see Marincola 2006. On Herodotus and lyric/elegy in terms of their use of the past, see Boedeker 2012. On fifth-century historiography and early Greek elegiac poetry, see Bowie 1986; 2001 (also dealing with iambic poetry); 2010. 105 On Herodotus and tragedy, see Waters 1966; Chiasson 1982; 2003; Saïd 2002a; Griffin 2006; Hornblower 2006: 306–7. 106 Even forensic in e.g. the scene of the trial in Aeschylus’ Eumenides. 107 On Herodotus’ prose predecessors and contemporaries, see Fowler 1996; 2006. On Herodotus and Hecataeus, see esp. West 1991; cf. Calame 1995: 92. For a discussion of the work of the early historians (Hecataeus of Miletus, Xanthus of Lydia, Charon of Lampsacus and Hellanicus of Lesbos), see especially Pearson 1939. 108 On the proem of Hecataeus’ Genealogies, see Fowler 2001: 101–3; Bertelli 2001: 80–4. Introduction 23 scepticism towards the logoi—either those of informants or of individual characters and people—permeates the Histories but is expressed in more indirect and elaborate ways.109 Hecataeus’ introduction contains another essential element: the change from third person indirect to direct speech. This formula (‘thus says X’ followed by statements in the first person), which recurs in Herodotus (e.g. 5.24.1; 7.150.2), has been connected to formal proclamations (e.g. letters, messages) of, mainly Persian, kings, often inscribed in public. It can also be found in archaic poetry, and operates as a means of establishing authority.110 Use of direct speech by individuals other than the author is attested in Hecataeus’ testimonium T 20 and fragment F 30. The passages come from Longinus’ On the Sublime 27.1–2. They deal with the writer’s sudden shift from the indirect speech of the narrative to the direct speech of the character, a strategy described as an ‘outburst of passion’. According to Longinus, the effects are abruptness and dramatization, while the context involves “some urgent crisis which will not allow the writer to linger, but compels him to make a rapid change from one person to another”. Both Iliad 15.346–9 and Hecataeus are listed by Longinus as examples of a technique which Herodotus also adopts (e.g. 4.118; 5.31.1).111 There are also indications of use of speech in the fragments of Stesimbrotus of Thasos (FGrHist 107), who wrote biographies of contemporary Athenian politicians (On Themistocles, Thucydides and Pericles). Fragment 5 (Plut. Cimon 14.3–5) reports a conversation employing both direct and indirect discourse, while fragments 7 and 9 cite the words of politicians in direct speech. In his Epidemiai—some type of biography—Ion of Chios (FGrHist 392) describes his meetings with famous people (e.g. Themistocles, Socrates, Pericles, Aeschylus) and includes private conversations and public speeches

109 See e.g. Herodotus’ handling of the different logoi about the kidnap of Io in his proem (1.1–5), on which see most recently Dewald 2012: 61–7; cf. Fowler 2006: 37 (see also Fowler’s note 41 on the presence of logoi in other proems, including Thucydides’ use of axiologōtatos ‘most worthy of logoi’ in 1.1 to describe the Peloponnesian War, hence to justify his narrative). 110 See Fowler 2001: 110 and the bibliography in n. 26; Bertelli 2001: 80 and the bibliography in n. 33. Bertelli (2001: 80) further observes that Hecataeus’ use of ὧδε μυθεῖται instead of the standard λέγει is a unique innovation which fittingly recalls the Homeric hapax ὧδε δὲ μυθέομαι and its competitive context (Il. 7.76). 111 Other poetic examples of this abrupt shift include, chiefly, Pind. Isth. 8.31–5a; Bacchyl. 11.104; Aesch. Ag. 611. More generally on the alternation of speech modes, see below, pp. 45–52. 24 Introduction that depict their character. It is worth noting that his fragment 6 incorporates both anecdotes and conversations in direct speech.112 In the fragments of the Lydiaca of Xanthus of Lydia (FGrHist 765) there is no direct speech. However, we find direct speech in the fragments of Nicolaus of Damascus which report some of Xanthus’ stories (FGrHist 90 F 44, F 47). If Xanthus was indeed using direct speech in his work and this is not a result of Nicolaus’ reworking—a fact impossible to prove—113this would be very interesting, all the more so since Xanthus’ Lydiaca presents similarities in content with Herodotus’ Histories.114 Herodotus’ contemporary intellectual context has overwhelming importance for his use of speech too. Herodotus shares with sophists, natural phi- losophers and early medical writers the language of proof and performance, the interest in argumentation and the concern for persuasion. All these bring out his interest in convincing rhetoric that shapes his representation of speech.115 Other elements which are relevant to or employed in speeches, and which may suggest sophistic influence on Herodotus include: his focus on self-centredness and power; his handling of speeches coming from different informants; the disapproval of slander;116 the fondness for mythical stories.117 The emergence of the sophists boosted the development of rhetoric in the later part of the fifth century but our knowledge of oratory and rhetoric before the end of the fifth century b.c. is limited. Our earliest available sources for the sophists, mainly Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Plato’s Gorgias, Protagoras, and Phaedrus,

112 For some comments on the use of speech by Stesimbrotus and Ion, see Gera 1993: 5–6. 113 Gera (1993: 219–21 and n. 112) provides a useful discussion of the matter and mentions the relevant scholarly debate but rightly refrains from reaching a conclusion in light of the insufficient evidence. 114 Ephorus observes a closer relationship between their works stating that Xanthus gave τὰς ἀφορμάς (‘a starting point’) to Herodotus (FGrHist 70 F 180). 115 See also Thomas (2000: 271), who neatly observes that Herodotus “is using the intellectual discourse of the latter part of the fifth century, and the Histories are themselves partaking of the gradual development of modes of argument, means of expressing why you are right and your opponents are wrong, which were developing in the competitive atmosphere of the latter part of the fifth century”. 116 According to Raaflaub (2002: 160), a link between the disapproval of slander by the sophist Hippias (86 B 17 d–k) and Herodotus’ Artabanus (7.10η.2) is likely. 117 Sophistic fondness for myths and fables is evident, for example, from the mythical topics of Gorgias’ Palamedes and Helen as well as Plato’s dialogues (e.g. the myth of Protagoras). See further Aly 1929; cf. Thomas 2000: 174–5. Introduction 25 are much later and the information they provide must therefore be treated with caution. A major sophistic oratorical strategy is the language of antilogiai. The practice of dissoi logoi, that is, arguing both sides of a question, is attested by Antiphon’s Tetralogies (dated shortly before the Peloponnesian War)118— the earliest extant model speeches based on opposing arguments—and Protagoras’ Antilogies, which survives only in fragments, as well as the anonymous treatise Dissoi Logoi (late fifth century). Gorgias favoured antithesis too (Diod. 12.53), but this technique is also witnessed earlier in Corax (Arist. Rh. 1402a17–24) and Tisias (Plato Phaedrus 273a–c).119 To Tisias and Gorgias (Plato Phaedrus 267a–b), Corax (Arist. Rh. 1402a17–28), and Protagoras (Arist. Rh. 1402a24–8) is attributed, in addition, the ability to make the weaker argument the stronger, and vice versa. Gorgias’ longer works and fragments demonstrate great interest in argumentation and persuasion, while it is mostly in Palamedes and Helen that he manifestly displays his belief in the power of speech and its seductive qualities.120 Diffuse sophistic influence may be associated with the vital role of argument and counter-argument in the setting up of Herodotus’ speeches and debates. Antithetical arrangement is reflected either in speeches supporting different views in the context of a debate (e.g. Artabanus and Mardonius in book 7; the Constitutional Debate in book 3) or in two variant alternatives presented in the same speech (e.g. Artemisia 8.68α.1–γ; Themistocles 8.60α–γ;121 Miltiades 6.109.3–6). Artabanus even points out to Xerxes the value of opposing arguments in a rather sophistic, or more specifically Protagorean, manner (7.10α.1).122 Themistocles’ use of antithetical arguments in his exhortation to the soldiers before Salamis (8.83.1: τὰ δὲ ἔπεα ἦν πάντα <τὰ> κρέσσω τοῖσι ἥσσοσι ἀντιτιθέμενα) is indeed typical of hortatory speeches but is also one of the most

118 On the author and date of the Tetralogies, see Usher 1999: 355–9. 119 On Tisias and Corax, the so-called ‘founders’ of rhetoric who are said to have written the first rhetorical handbooks and were active before 450 b.c., see Usher 1999: 2–4; Gagarin 2007: 30–4. The information about these two semi-mythical figures in sources later than Plato and Aristotle is meagre. 120 See e.g. Helen 8: “Speech is a powerful lord (λόγος δυνάστης μέγας ἐστίν), who with the finest and most invisible body achieves the most divine works: it can stop fear and banish grief and create joy and nurture pity”; Helen 11: “All who have and do persuade people of things do so by moulding a false argument”. On Gorgias’ ideas on persuasive speech, see Bons 2007. On Gorgias and fifth-century oratory, see Thomas 2000: 221–8, 249–69. 121 See 8.60α: ἀντίθες. . .ἑκάτερον ἀκούσας “compare each plan after you have heard them”. 122 μὴ λεχθεισέων μὲν γνωμέων ἀντιέων ἀλλήλῃσι οὐκ ἔστι τὴν ἀμείνω αἱρεόμενον ἑλέσθαι, ἀλλὰ δεῖ τῇ εἰρημένῃ χρᾶσθαι, λεχθεισέων δὲ ἔστι. 26 Introduction fashionable rhetorical trends in Herodotus’ time and points to a sophistic type of argumentation.123 There also appears to be a relationship between sophistic doctrines with regard to speech and the central position persuasion and deception occupy in Herodotus’ work. Deception manifests itself in various forms in the Histories, ranging from actual deception to speaking indirectly and from manipulation of reality to complete distortion. It might even take the form of inconsistency between words and deeds. Speech is most often employed to mask one’s purposes,124 or it may complement the narrative in a game of deceit.125 Herodotus often intervenes to reveal and comment on ulterior motives hidden behind fine words. The connection between varying degrees of manipulation and persuasion is introduced already in the prologue of the Histories (1.1–5). Here Herodotus recounts the different and self-serving logoi about the abduction of Io: the Persians accuse the Greeks and the Phoenicians, and the Phoenicians deny their share of guilt and offer an alternative version which whitewashes them.126 Later in book 3 there follows the moralization of the use of deception to achieve one’s purposes, appropriately put in the mouth of one of the Histories’ arch- manipulators, Darius, as he urges the Persian conspirators into action against the false Smerdis.127 In casting deceitful speech in a moralizing light, Darius not only expresses his personal viewpoint but also sketches out the lines along which we are to read the rhetoric in the work.128 Skilful manoeuvring and man-

123 Cf. Thomas 2000: 266. On Herodotus’ use of antithesis in relation to the scientists and sophists of his time generally, see Thomas 2000: 249–69. 124 Cf. the distinction between Gelon’s alleged and real purpose at 7.155.1: τῷ λόγῳ . . . τῷ ἔργῳ. 125 Cf. 4.139.1 (the Danube bridge debate): ἔδοξέ σφι πρὸς ταύτῃ τάδε ἔργα τε καὶ ἔπεα προσθεῖναι “they decided to make their actions match their words”. 126 See Dewald 1987: 168–9; 1999: 225–6 (note also p. 226: “The unspoken Greek version, we may note, is every bit as self-justifying as the two Persian and Phoenician stories that precede it”), 232–3; 2002: 270–1; 2012: 61–7; Rood 2010 (esp. pp. 53–62). 127 See Hdt. 3.72.4–5: “if a lie (ψεῦδος) is necessary, why not speak it? We are after the same thing, whether we lie or speak the truth: our own advantage (κέρδος). Men lie when they think to profit by deception, and tell the truth for the same reason—to get something they want, and to be the better trusted for their honesty. It is only two different roads to the same goal. Were there no question of advantage, the honest man would be as likely to lie as the liar is, and the liar would tell the truth as readily as the honest man”. Raaflaub (2002: 160) specifically connects this passage to Gorgias’ Helen 10–11. A close relationship between Herodotus’ proem and Gorgias’ Helen has also been conjectured by Pelliccia 1992; cf. Wȩcowski 2004: 150. 128 An interpretation reinforced by the fact that Darius has often been considered one of Herodotus’ alter egos (see e.g. Christ 1994; Thomas 2006: 69). Introduction 27 agement of reality prompted by expediency occur time and again in the work and will be examined in the following chapters. The element of epideixis—also introduced by the sophists and manifest in scientific, philosophical and rhetorical texts of this period—is frequently employed by Herodotus in his speeches.129 This feature is shared with late fifth- and early fourth-century display oratory (funeral and panegyric speeches). Despite the scarcity of evidence for fifth-century oratory, we do come across a few epideictic examples: Antiphon’s Tetralogies (a blend of epideictic and judicial oratory), Gorgias’ Palamedes and Helen (which also blend epideictic and forensic elements) as well as the Funeral Oration, the fragments of Pericles’ Samian funeral oration in the Rhetoric of Aristotle (440/39 b.c.), and Pericles’ funeral oration in Thucydides’ History (431 b.c.).130 In the fifth century the opportunities for epideixis and epideictic oratory multiplied, as the Athenian funeral oration was established as an important institution of the polis.131 This gave rise to competition with other speakers and literary models.132 Similar trends were reflected in the political environment contemporary with Herodotus. The assembly and law-courts of the democratic city also held significant opportunities for the citizens to practise deliberative and forensic oratory. Speech competition was coupled with athletic, poetic and musical competitions within the agonistic environment of the fifth-century polis. The polemical style of contemporary intellectual debates, the sophistic practice of dissoi logoi, early Ionian prose, medical treatises, Pindar and elegy, all reflect the same competitive climate.133 It is clear that Herodotus was exposed to all methods of argumentation and was familiar with all types of political debate conducted in public arenas. In the Histories, epideictic display dominates in speeches that are intended as a praise of the speaker or the addressee,134 or aim to exhort or discourage the addressee.135 There is also a large number of debate scenes that involve competition of words.

129 On Herodotus’ familiarity with epideictic topics, see e.g. Meyer 1899: 219–22; Burgess 1902: 198; How and Wells 1912: 198, 297; Bury 1909: 63–4; Walters 1981: 204–5; Flower and Marincola 2002: 152–3. The interaction between Herodotus and epideictic oratory will be further discussed in ch. 4. 130 On epideictic oratory, see Carey 2007; cf. also briefly Usher 1999: 349–52. Specifically on Athenian funeral oratory, see Loraux 1986. 131 Sometime before 430 b.c. and, according to Loraux (1986: 56–76), as early as the 460s. 132 See Carey 2007: 238–40. 133 The use of the first person pronoun in these texts sharpens the sense of competition. 134 E.g. the Tegean-Athenian debate in book 9, on which see below, ch. 4. 135 E.g. Miltiades’ speech to Callimachus (6.109.3–6), on which see below, ch. 4. 28 Introduction

Furthermore, Herodotus’ treatment of rhetoric and deception intersects with (near) contemporary discussions about the power and perils of rhetoric and the power of speech in a democracy. Halliwell136 has shown that all three extant tragedians express concerns about the nature of rhetoric and reflect comparable distrust towards it, as well as inviting the audience’s critical alert- ness to the deceptive power of rhetoric. We encounter similar critique of rhetoric in Aristophanes, notably in his Clouds.137 Hesk describes this censuring as a kind of metadiscourse over deceptive rhetorical performance, observed not only in Euripides and Aristophanes but also Thucydides and the Attic orators (notably Aeschines and Demosthenes).138 Herodotus’ stance towards rhetoric and its metahistorical significance should be read in this context.139 We may even find in Herodotus one of the trendiest rhetorical strategies, the ‘rhetoric of anti-rhetoric’.140 This technique involves the speaker disclaiming any knowledge or use of rhetorical strategies and deceptive methods. These he attributes instead exclusively to his opponent, whom he reproaches for their deployment (e.g. Dem. 27.2–3). In doing so, however, the speaker avails himself of the same rhetorical means. The use of this oratorical ploy is reflected neatly in Thucydides (Mytilenean Debate), Aristophanes (e.g. Knights, Acharnians) and Euripides (e.g. Hippolytus, Andromache, Hecuba). Thereby the authors aim to raise the awareness of the audience towards rhetoric. Herodotus appears to be up to something strikingly similar in his debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians before the battle of Plataea (9.26–7): although the Athenians blame the Tegeans for wasting valuable time by starting a contest of words at such a critical moment, they actually do exactly the same thing.

136 See Halliwell 1997. 137 For an overview of tragedy’s use of rhetoric, see McDonald 2007; and briefly Usher 1999: 16–21. On comedy’s critique of speakers generally, see Dover 1974: 26–8. On Aristophanic comedy, see Hubbard 2007. 138 See Hesk 1999; 2000: 202–91. For Attic oratory, see also Dover 1974: 25–6. Cf. Gorgias’ Funeral Oration (82 B 6 D–K): “regarding as the most divine and common law to say, to keep silent, and to do what is necessary when necessary, and of the necessary qualities, practicing especially judgment and strength, the former in counsel, the latter in action”. Apart from a certain sense of opportunism in treating speech that surfaces here, Gorgias seems to challenge traditional Athenian ideals and in a speech that takes the form of a traditional Athenian epitaphios (see further Montiglio 2000: 284–6). On the distinctive nature of Gorgias’ epitaphios, see Loraux 1986: 225–30. Cf. also Socrates’ words in Plato’s Phaedrus 271e–272b. 139 On the manipulative potential of speech in Sophocles and Herodotus in particular, see Dewald and Kitzinger 2006. 140 As Hesk (1999: 208; 2000: 209) calls it, borrowing a term used by Valesio 1980. Introduction 29

The orators develop this tactic further when they say that they will not speak about something, but they end up speaking about it nevertheless (paraleipsis). Digressions aimed at praising oneself and denigrating the opponent are very common. In this way the speaker shows that he complies with the rules of speaking, mainly at the court but also the assembly, and limits himself to the relevant material only.141 A corresponding Herodotean example may be found in the speech of the Athenians to Gelon where they accuse him of forc- ing them out of their silence (7.161.2). Another fine example is in the Athenian speech in their debate with the Tegeans: “We are aware that the object of this gathering of forces is to fight the invaders, not to make speeches, but since the Tegeans have proposed that we should each mention the brave deeds done by us . . . we have no choice but to tell you . . .” (9.27.1). Finally, it is time to turn to Herodotus’ contested relationship to Thucydides. In light of recent studies, Herodotus no longer seems so different from his successor.142 Intertextual links, generic competition and the desire for improve- ment and originality better define Thucydides’ stance towards Herodotus. It is widely accepted nowadays that in his methodological chapter Thucydides does not dismiss just the poets and Herodotus for their romances (τὸ μυθῶδες) and show-pieces (ἀγώνισμα), which aim to provide ephemeral pleasure (1.21–2).143 He may well be attacking Simonides, who also wrote history, albeit in verse.144 It has been further suggested that τὸ μυθῶδες implies not only the storytelling and romantic elements145 of Thucydides’ predecessors, poets

141 See. e.g. Dem. 5.4; 18.4; 20.146; Lysias 12.3; Aeschines 1.1; 3.16; Ar. Ach. 496–501; Eccl. 151–2. 142 On difference and Thucydides’ condemnation of Herodotus, see von Wilamowitz- Moellendorff 1908: 7; Usher 1969: 23; Kennelly 1994. The first work to signify Thucydides’ fall from objectivity was Cornford 1907 and then followed Hunter 1973. On Thucydides’ close relationship to Herodotus, see Pelling 1991; Scanlon 1994; Hornblower 1987: 26–33; 1996: 19–38, 122–45; 2006: 308; Rood 1999; Corcella 2006; Rogkotis 2006; Raaflaub 2002: 183–6; Węcowski 2004; 2008; Foster and Lateiner 2012. Cf. Lateiner (2009: 49): “Classicists now comfortably grant Herodotus credit for Thucydidean levels of historiographical sophistication . . . Two political junkies, from Halicarnassus and Halimous, both sides of the Aegean pond, anatomise communal dynamics, eccentric geniuses and international power. Their ‘agonistic intertextuality’ . . . and Thucydides’ ‘anxiety of [demonstrable] influence’ will soon become even more prominent”. 143 On Thucydides referring to Herodotus only, see Fornara 1971a: 60; Gould 1989: 112; Hornblower 1991: 61. 144 See Boedeker 1995: 226–9; 2001a: 120 and n. 2; Hornblower 1996: 27–8; Rood 1998b. On the possible relationship between Herodotus and the New Simonides, see Boedeker 2001a; Shaw 2001. 145 See e.g. Saïd 2007: 78. 30 Introduction and logographers (the latter may well include both prose authors and speech writers, that is, orators), but also patriotic stories which quintessentially comprised myths.146 Several aspects of Thucydides’ work show that he had knowledge of, and was influenced by, the work of Herodotus. To mention but a few: interest in political history, importance of self-interest in decision-making, desire for power, analogies between the narrations of the Peloponnesian War and the Persian Wars, and his views on historical explanation. The use of speech in Herodotus and Thucydides also seems to serve similar purposes,147 such as explaining political decisions and strategies and highlighting motivation.148 Given that the traditional view which keeps Herodotus and Thucydides separated has not been abandoned altogether, especially when it comes to discussions of rhetoric, there is a need for further analysis of the links between the two authors. In the following chapters, we shall see that kinship and self-interest in Herodotus play an equally important role; debates are as frequent, cardinal and deeply involved in political matters in both authors and Herodotus shows a comparable concern for propaganda and conflicting ideologies. We will further focus on speech composition and management, considering types of argument, structure, location and allocation of speech. Two examples from the Histories’ books 5 and 9 usefully showcase the merits of this approach. At 9.6 Herodotus gives a summary of the Athenians’ thoughts and plans, briefly explains their motivation, and outlines the aim and content of their intended speech. Their speech, which follows shortly after in direct discourse (9.7α–β), repeats the content of the preceding narrative.149 In a similar way the historian briefly quotes the Spartan fears in 5.91.1 in indirect discourse as part of his narrative and his personal assessment of events. The same content is more or less replicated in the elaborate and manipulative Spartan speech to their allies that comes next (5.91.2–3).150 In these cases, repetition certainly lays emphasis on motivation and rhetorical calculation.

146 See Flory 1990; Grethlein 2010: 207–9. 147 See also Scardino 2012 on the similar usage of indirect discourse, in terms of form and function, in Herodotus and Thucydides. For a more detailed comparison of the use of speech in both historians, see Scardino 2007: 702–53. 148 Cf. Lateiner (1987: 105): “The direct speeches reveal the resources of an historical intelligence supplying motives and causes, and suggesting aspects of historical issues that the available evidence, traditions and monuments, may have only weakly implied. Speeches, in Herodotus’ approach, amplify those suggestions, and Thucydides’ speeches, in the view of many, were not so different”. 149 On this speech, see below, pp. 227–33. 150 On this speech, see below, pp. 130–5. Introduction 31

Herodotus may be giving us an insight here into his fashioning of speeches in a way that could be compared to Thucydides’ statement of his method for reporting his own speeches (1.22.1). The passages preceding the direct speeches (9.6 and 5.91.1) may serve as some sort of methodological statement for Herodotus, who might be saying here: “that is the essence of their speech as I came to know it from my sources and I myself figured out; and here is my version of the speech delivered”. He thus informs us that the Spartan and Athenian speeches are fictitious, while expressing in tandem—and in a way which may be seen to anticipate Thucydides’ approach—his concern, or anxiety, about how the audience will receive and evaluate his speeches.

Previous Scholarship on Herodotean Speeches and Outline of the Book

Before Scardino’s (Gestaltung und Funktion der Reden bei Herodot und Thukydides) and de Bakker’s (Speech and Authority in Herodotus’ Histories) 2007 studies of Herodotean speech, the scholarship on this topic was old, the last substantial contribution being Lang’s 1984 book Herodotean Narrative and Discourse. Earlier attempts to analyze Herodotean speeches were deficient in that they failed to take into consideration the wider narrative context, and either focused largely on direct speeches151 or proposed problematic typolo- gies as they forced all speeches into their limited categories.152 Similarly strict criteria are applied by Lang 1984 who, however, acknowledges some important functions of direct and indirect speech, such as explanation, motivation, characterization of individuals.153 Taking advantage of recent scholarship on Herodotus, Scardino and de Bakker, dealing to some extent with indirect speech as well, offer useful rhetorical, historiographical and narratological underpinnings for closer and more elaborate analyses. Nevertheless, the broadness of their works makes it hard to focus on the complexities of Herodotean rhetoric. The purpose of this book is exactly that. It is not intended as an exhaus- tive study of Herodotean speech, but rather as a comprehensive study of particular modes, kinds and effects of speech, exemplified through in-depth discussions of case studies and of the ways these relate to two overarching narrative themes: the Greco-Persian polarity and the problem of Greek unity.

151 See Deffner 1933; Schulz 1933. 152 See Heni 1976; Hohti 1976. 153 See also the following useful, if dated, articles: Bischoff 1932; Lattimore 1939; Solmsen 1943; 1944. 32 Introduction

Drilling deeper into Herodotean rhetoric can yield further insight into the ways the historian negotiates his authority, into his relationship with his readers, and into his historiographical methods. As such, the study will also draw on, and further develop, the work of Pelling on the relationship between speech and narrative,154 and Barker on dissent and authority in the Histories.155 It will also complement recent currents in Herodotean scholarship that address the relation between narrative/speech and the historian’s authority.156 Rather than dealing with the whole of the Histories, which furnishes a great amount of material, and in order to sharpen the focus, I treat books 5–9 (the narratives of the Ionian revolt and the Persian Wars), where the narrative spotlight moves from the East to the West, and the Greeks are fully introduced into the events. A significant number of speeches contained in these books lack in-depth treatment and are in need of contextualization—a fact related to the insufficient recognition of the political underpinnings of Herodotean rhetoric. Books 1–4 often serve as an important point of comparison since they provide us with quite a few template arguments replayed and reworked in the course of the Histories, and they thus demonstrate the unity of the work. This study is thematic and concentrates on motifs and case studies. The analysis moves from the general to the specific, and is divided into three parts, each of which is framed by intertextual conversations between Herodotus and past, contemporary and future literature. Part i ‘Architectonics of Speech’, includes a chapter on the ‘Allocation of Speech’ (Chapter 1) which deals with issues of structure, length and placement of speech. It argues that the bigger picture of the narrative structure matters when it comes to speech; and that management of speech modes, length and positioning are carefully thought- out and can be read in ways that highlight the two narrative themes under consideration. In connection with these themes, the relationship between speech and power is additionally canvassed here. Part ii ‘Speech and Competition’ includes a chapter on ‘Debates’ (Chapter 2), which turns to the competitive element inherent in clusters of speech. Here I investigate the representation of debate in Herodotus, the way debate operates within the Greek and Persian constitutional framework, and the strategies, linguistic and other, employed to endorse its depiction. The main thrust of this chapter is the marginalization of debate and the interplay between freedom and its suppression.

154 See esp. Pelling 2002; 2006a; 2006c. 155 See Barker 2009: 144–202. 156 On narrative and authority in Greek and Roman historiography, see Marincola 1997. On speech and authority in Herodotus, see de Bakker 2007. Introduction 33

Part iii ‘Speech and Typology’, includes two chapters, one on ‘Alliance Speeches’ (Chapter 3) and one on ‘Pre-battle Speeches’ (Chapter 4), that explore specific argumentation patterns in Greece and Persia. Recurrent arguments, rhetorical devices and motifs are detected, while the discussion brings out a constant tension between idealistic and self-regarding motivation. The three parts demonstrate that Herodotus’ speeches are worked up to a high degree and in ways that perform the author’s handling of our two major narrative themes. The various chapters paint a colourful picture of a considerably sophisticated oratorical system, with multiple layers of meaning, which embraces traditional and novel elements, surprisingly demonstrates features whose introduction in historiography has been identified with Thucydides, and influences early rhetorical handbooks. The Conclusion strings the chapters together and sets the results of the analysis in the wider context of historiographical methodology and author-reader interaction. Dealing with the dialogic and metahistorical nature of Herodotean rhetoric, it extends the discussion to the implications of this rhetorical system for the representation of Herodotus’ narratorial authority, the relationship with his readers, and the explication of his historiographical method against contemporary oratorical practices. This is one of many ways to approach the material, and indeed one that might seem partially constrictive. Herodotean speeches are manifestly distinguished by remarkable variety and flexibility and, therefore, defy any reduction to categories. As mentioned already, one of the primary setbacks of previous studies is that they have tried to fit every speech into a handful of strictly defined categories. Far from aiming at constructing impenetrable categories, the classification proposed here is intended as a hermeneutic tool which provides a new and rewarding way of reading speech in the Histories. The military theme of the composition encourages the distinction between alliance and pre-battle speeches, two types of speech that have been sorely understudied. The two categories are framed on the basis of similar purposes and circumstances of deliverance. It will be emphasized time and again that the proposed categories share similarities and the dividing line is often very fine. However, it must be stressed that the flexibility of my criteria is not an attempt to make as many speeches as possible fit into these categories. On the contrary, it reflects the elasticity of Herodotean rhetoric, which merges different elements to achieve new and unique narrative purposes. Such overlapping helps alert readers to the supple nature and variety of Herodotean speeches. Many alliance and pre-battle speeches form part of larger debate scenes, but in each chapter speech is approached from a different angle. Occasional convergence between chapters and repetition of contexts aims 34 Introduction to make the chapters operate as parts of a whole and as individual units. It further bolsters the coherence of Herodotus’ rhetorical system as well as the unity of his work. Likewise, the identification in Herodotus of the categories of alliance and pre-battle speeches that appear only later in the rhetorical handbooks might seem precarious. The rhetorical treatises from the fourth century onwards, nevertheless, in effect systematize what was there before and do not create categories which did not exist.157 As mentioned earlier, deliberative, epideictic and forensic speeches already existed as different strands, and there were also combinations of elements of those strands, but these categories are never hard and fast until Aristotle.158 So there is nothing artificial about using later frameworks as a basis for analysis, provided that one always bears in mind the following caveats: the related difficulties involving the change over time, the rhetoricians’ purposes, how representative of rhetorical practices the treatises are, and the complex matter of the original source of influence.159 In addition, one should acknowledge that the categories are still not rigid but rather subject to dynamic evolution.160 It will be interesting to see that precursors of these categories are already to be found in Herodotus, even in an under-developed and incomplete form, given the lack of clear pre-existing generic templates.

157 See Noussia 2006: 134–5; 154 (she discusses the rhetorical qualities of Solon’s elegies based on Aristotle’s Rhetoric and the Rhetoric to Alexander); Carey 2007: 236 and n. 2. 158 On Aristotle’s classification as based on the fifth- and fourth-century cultural background, see Pepe 2013: 9–120. 159 Pelling (2012: 282–4) discusses such methodological difficulties. 160 Scholarship has notably moved away from earlier, fixed generic categorizations and has embarked upon more relaxed notions of the literary genre: see most importantly Depew and Obbink 2000; Barchiesi 2001; Marincola 1997 (on the dynamic boundaries of Greco- Roman historiography); Long 2004: 24–8 (on the versatility of forensic oratory); Carey 2009; Carey 2007, who recurrently emphasizes the fluidity of generic boundaries, especially in the context of epideictic oratory. Referring to Aristotle’s tripartite division of speeches, Carey (2007: 237) points out that “the categories are not watertight; there is movement between them”. part 1 Architectonics of Speech

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CHAPTER 1 Allocation of Speech

This part sets out to discuss general aspects of speech structure within the narrative: the ‘architectonics of speech’. In this chapter, I will look at the allocation of speech and certain speech modes to characters and groups, and offer novel explanations for the preference of different speech modes. We established in the Introduction that the difference between the use of direct and indirect speech modes is not necessarily one of veracity, but is more appropriately considered as an artistic choice.1 So far the choice between different speech modes in the Histories has been mostly approached in terms of dramatization, importance,2 narrative pace,3 and buttressing the historian’s authority,4 while at the same time a range of indirect speech functions has been explored.5 Here we explore the ways in which the distribution of speech and particular speech modes to individuals and groups and the compression or omission of speech, endorse and problematize the Greco-Persian polarity as well as challenging Greek unity at specific points in the Histories. Familiar effects of the use of diverse speech modes, such as manipulation of narrative pace, variation, vividness and dramatization, are also considered in order to bring out the multiplicity of meaning and variety of authorial purposes, but the focus lies on the close relationship between form and narrative content. The role that authenticity and prejudiced sources might play in Herodotus’ process, in deciding on the inclusion, modes and length of speeches, is not disregarded; but, since the speeches are viewed as Herodotus’ own creation, this subject receives secondary mention. This chapter’s main line of argument is that speech structure may affect characterization. Speech is one of the most fundamental means of characterization of the speaker, and variations have been observed in the style of

1 See above, p. 5. 2 See e.g. Comparini 1971: 28 (“moments of crisis or important turning points in historical development”); Bowie (2007: 145, 149, 162, 168, 197): direct speech in the Salamis narrative signals seriousness and importance. Cf. also Scardino (2012: 76): “Speeches and exhortations also stand in oratio obliqua. In these the historians record, on the one hand, less important themes or unsuccessful initiatives”. 3 See e.g. Scardino 2012: 76–7. 4 On all four and especially the latter, see de Bakker 2007. 5 See Scardino 2012 (esp. pp. 75–9; cf. p. 92: “The rhetorical formation of the indirect speeches is definitely artistic, however, and is scarcely less elaborate than that of direct speeches”).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��5 | doi ��.��63/9789004283589_003 38 CHAPTER 1 individual characters or groups in literary texts.6 In Herodotus, we can instance Artabanus, Themistocles, Mardonius, Aristagoras, Croesus, Xerxes, and Demaratus as a few individuals who employ distinctive language—some of whom will be dealt with in the next chapters. The structure of the narrative has also been considered as a way of characterizing individuals in historiographical texts.7 Here I shall focus specifically on the form of speech, to demonstrate that the attribution and non-attribution of speech to characters, as well as its mode and length, can be treated as markers of characterization—this is a kind of ‘structural characterization’, as Pitcher calls it.8 The allocation of speech to characters and groups of Greeks, and the mode and length of speech may perform a number of functions; denoting an increase or decrease in the authority and importance of individuals; defining the nature of groups of Greeks, such as the Spartans; and suggesting the separation of or link between the free Greeks and the slavish Persians. In what follows I shall first describe the two modes of analysis deployed here: the alternation between direct and indirect speech modes, and silence— an umbrella term which will be qualified shortly. I will associate each mode with previous and near-contemporary literary strategies and explore how these modes can be effectively deployed towards highlighting the themes of Greek disunity and the problematic Greco-Persian opposition (section 1.1). I will then move on to the main body of the discussion, which is based on the two modes of analysis and falls into three parts (sections 1.2–4). Section

6 See e.g. for Homer: (on the language of Achilles) Parry 1956; 1989; Friedrich and Redfield 1978; Griffin 1986; Scully 1984; Martin 1989: 146–205; Mackie 1996: 127–59; (on the language of Hector) Mackie 1996: 85–125; (on the language of the Greeks and Trojans) Mackie 1996; (on gnomai as markers of characterization) Lardinois 2000. Thucydides also portrays through speech both individual features and national characteristics. His Nicias, Archidamus, Alcibiades, Pericles, Brasidas and Cleon all have their own distinctive style, while the Athenians use markedly different speech from the Spartans. On characterization through speech in Thucydides, see Tompkins 1972 (Nicias and Alcibiades); 1993 (Archidamus); Macleod 1983: 52–67 (Melian Dialogue); Francis 1991 (variation in Spartan speeches); Debnar 1996 (Spartans); briefly Hornblower 1987: 57–9; Price 2001: 127–89 (Athenian vs. Peloponnesian rhetoric). On Herodotus’ interest in characterization and his use of speech as a means of characterization of both individuals and groups, see Comparini 1971: 45–51, 119–92; Badian 1994 (on Alexander); Marincola 2001: 43–8; Flower and Marincola 2002: 9–16 (in book 9); Scardino 2007: 337–49; cf. also briefly Hornblower 1987: 57. For characterization in classical historiography in general, see e.g. Pitcher 2007. Especially for the importance of speech for characterization in classical historiography, see e.g. Pitcher 2007: 107–10, and the brief comments in Marincola 2007a: 119–20. 7 See the brief overview in Pitcher 2007: 112–15. 8 See Pitcher 2007: 112. Allocation Of Speech 39

1.2 deals with the relationship between Greeks. It looks at how Herodotus employs speech structure to demonstrate the fragile nature of Greek unity: he compresses or suppresses debates among the Greeks to showcase difficulties of communication; he leaves out speeches to direct attention to the tense Atheno-Spartan relations; and he suppresses Spartan speech while emphasizing Spartan silence as opposed to Athenian eloquence and other Greek speech to sharpen the feeling of inter-city competition. Section 1.3 explores the implications of Herodotus’ usage of certain speech modes and silence for the relationship between speech and the power-authority dichotomy in Greece and Persia. Sections 1.2 and 1.3 are both developed through test cases, while in part 1.2 examples are also offered from other literature regarding the use of more specific templates. A final section (1.4) investigates the wider picture of the arrangement and distribution of speech to Greeks and Persians and the rami- fications this picture carries for both the underpinning and questioning of the distinction between self and other.

1.1 Modes of Analysis

1.1.1 Silence The rhetoric of absence is as important as the rhetoric of presence. Attention is, indeed, particularly attracted when something is not there where expected. However, lest we get ahead of ourselves, some clarification and qualification of the general phenomenon of silence is needed. Silence is not an absolute but a relative occurence. The degree of silence may vary from complete silence to suppression of speech through compression (most frequently through indirect speech modes). The importance of character silence as a very powerful rhetorical method has been recognized since Homer, and was then taken up and further developed in tragedy and rhetoric.9 Homer and the tragedians purposely draw our attention to silence, which they use as a device to stress the intense emotional state (both negative and positive) of individuals in order to create dramatic effect.

9 On silence see also ocd4 s.v. silence. On the oratorical exploitation of silence, see Montiglio 2000: 116–57 (note esp. p. 116: “Like praise poets, Athenian orators also feel urged to emphasize their intention to be silent, since they too are concerned with warding off the spectre of ‘silent impotence’. In its political version, silent impotence becomes synonymous with atimia (civic exclusion), a condition that entails above all the prohibition of making oneself heard in public places”; p. 117: “. . . orators use silence as a conscious device to increase the impact of their performance”). 40 CHAPTER 1

Some of the most famous silences in Homer include Ajax’s silence when Odysseus meets him in the underworld (Od. 11.563),10 and Odysseus’ silence when he sees his son for the first time in front of Eumaeus (he is kept silent until Od. 16.90).11 Among the tragic playwrights,12 Aeschylus was famed for his protracted silences already in the fifth century, as attested by Aristophanes’ parody of the tragedian in his Frogs 907–46. A couple of notable cases in a long series of Aeschylean silences are worth mentioning: the silence of Prometheus in the prologue of Prometheus Bound; the reticence of Cassandra in Agamemnon 1035 ff., until she spectacularly breaks her silence; and Pylades’ long silence, until he bursts into a short utterance in Choephoroi 900–2.13 Silence is also used in the characterization of individuals. The silence of Patroclus in Iliad 9 reveals part of his character and his devotion to Achilles.14 Pindar offers an interesting parallel to Homer’s delicate use of silence in Pythian 4, when he introduces Pelias with words that are in line with his mild character.15 Latin epic further provides us with a prominent example in this tradition: Virgil’s Aeneas is not given substantial speech in private and, when he is, his speech is unsuccessful; he thus becomes “the poem’s most consistent and prominent paradigm of the weak and insubstantial nature of human interchange”.16 Silence can also function as a means of characterization in yet another way, and this is where the relation between speech and power becomes relevant. Speech reveals the power of the individual, while silence exposes limited

10 Imitated by Virgil in his presentation of Dido in Aen. 6.467–71. On silence in the Aeneid, see Laird 1999: 183–92. 11 Cf. Rutherford 1992: 68–9. On the significance of silence in Homer, see Foley 1995; Person 1995. 12 See e.g. Oedipus’ silence in Soph. oc 1252 ff. and the silence of Phaedra in Eur. Hipp. 310. On the complicated interplay between speech and silence in Hippolytus, see Knox 1979: 205–30. On several aspects of silence in tragedy, see Montiglio 2000: 158–288. On different types of silence in Euripides, see most recently Chong-Gossard 2008: 113–203. 13 On silence in Aeschylus, see Taplin 1972. 14 See de Jong 1987b: 117–18. Note esp. p. 117: “It is the reflection of Patroclus’ unquestioning loyalty to Achilles: from his non-participation in the discussion we may gather that he is prepared to accept any decision of his friend, whether it be to stay in Troy or to return. Only Nestor’s long and highly rhetorical speech in xi.656–803, held in the absence of Achilles, will encourage Patroclus to confront Achilles and to suggest a different course of action”. 15 See Hornblower (2004: 323): “By a kind of logical extension of this picture of dissimula- tion, Pindar makes telling use of silence (line 156) as part of his characterization of Pelias”. Cf. also Segal 1986: 38. 16 See Feeney 1983 (quotation from p. 217). Allocation Of Speech 41 power. Foucault—the influence of whose work lies, consciously or unconsciously, behind nearly all modern studies on speech and power—described the relationship between speech and power in the society as very close, and argued that power is inherent in all forms of discourse.17 Discourse carries power: discourse is power. It can support power or work against it, and consequently, society attempts to control discourse. In the field of literature, the importance of the relation between speech and power, particularly in narrative but also in poetic texts, has been brought out well by Laird,18 who argues:

The ascription of speech to some characters and not to others is really a formal feature commonly present in all kinds of texts—but which is especially prominent in narratives. The ascription of speech to certain characters obviously leads to the determination of social hierarchies which are conjured up by narratives.19

Already present in Homer, notably in the episodes where Thersites is silenced by Odysseus (Il. 2.244–64), and Telemachus silences Penelope (Od. 1.353–59),20 the link between speech and social status, as Laird maintains, is particularly strong in the Aeneid, where “it seems to be for those in authority to speak

17 See Foucault (1990: 100–1): “discourse can be both an instrument and an effect of power, but also a hindrance, a stumbling-block, a point of resistance and a starting point for an opposing strategy. Discourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it”; Foucault (1981: 52–3): “in every society the production of discourse is at once controlled, selected, organised and redistributed by a certain number of procedures whose role is to ward off its powers and dangers, to gain mastery over its chance events, to evade its ponderous, formidable materiality . . . discourse is not simply that which translates struggles or systems of domination, but is the thing for which and by which there is struggle, discourse is the power which is to be seized”. Cf. Laird (1999: 1): “a relation between speech and power . . . is an inevitable feature of human communication”. 18 See Laird 1999. For general comments on speech and power in ancient literature, see Laird 1999: 6–18; specifically on the Aeneid, see Laird 1999: 192–205. 19 See Laird 1999: 16. 20 Martin (1989: 22) also links the kind of Homeric speech which he calls ‘muthos’ with authority and power (’muthos’ is “a speech-act indicating authority, performed at length, usually in public, with a focus on full attention to every detail”, p. 12), and contrasts ‘muthos’ with ‘epos’ (“an utterance, ideally short, accompanying a physical act, and focusing on message, as perceived by the addressee, rather than on performance as enacted by the speaker’’, p. 12). 42 CHAPTER 1 and the inclination or the duty of those with less power to remain silent”.21 Hence “the formal techniques of speech presentation . . . help constitute power relations between groups and characters”.22 Returning to Homer, not only is speech an indication of power but so is the ability to impose silence on others through speech, as Odysseus does with Thersites (Il. 2.198–201). Agamemnon’s failure in this respect is a further indication of his limited and vulnerable authority: he not only fails to silence Achilles but he is also silenced by others, for example Odysseus (Il. 14.90–4). In addition, silence may follow after a powerful and authoritative speech in Homer (Il. 8.28–30; 9.430–1).23 This interplay between speech and power is particularly evident in the way Thucydides handles Pericles’ speeches, an important aspect of which is the historian’s bias towards the politician.24 Thucydides, whose selectivity in omitting or including events and speeches in his History has received substantial emphasis, manages speech in such a way so as to enhance the status of Pericles while reducing the authority and abilities of Pericles’ opponents, in particular Cleon but also Hyperbolus.25 A comparable narrative technique has been observed in Latin literature, in the depiction of Nero in Tacitus’ Annals. Scott26 has proposed that the historian associates Nero’s rhetorical incompetence with his immorality: the non-allocation of direct discourse to Nero and the suppression of his speech in the last books of the Annals is a way to denigrate him. Herodotus’ selectivity has received much less attention, with the critics mainly focusing, on the one hand, on explicit omissions whereby Herodotus admits his ignorance (i.e. weakness of his method) or where he considers information undesirable to relate or unworthy of commemoration,27 and, on the other hand and most recently, on his political and religious silences.28 Silence of individuals has been briefly explored by Lateiner29 as but one manifestation of a remarkably rich range of nonverbal behaviour in Herodotus, which

21 See Laird 1999: 192. 22 See Laird 1999: 205–6. 23 On the relationship between silence and power in the Iliad, see Montiglio 2000: 46–81. 24 On Thucydides’ pro-Periclean stance, see e.g. de Romilly 1963: 375–6. 25 On selectivity and omission in Thucydides, see Hornblower 1992; Rood 1998a: 133–58, 205–24; Greenwood 2004: 185–93; Zumbrunnen 2008: 4–6. 26 See Scott 1998. 27 See Lateiner 1989: 59–75. 28 For partial exploration of political silences, see Badian 1994. For partial exploration of religious silences, see Mora 1981; 1987: 43–56; Gould 1994. Cf. also Hornblower 2002: 380–3 (on political and religious silences). On Herodotus’ silences as generic markers, see Boedeker 2000: 108–11. 29 See Lateiner 1987; 1989: 26–30. Allocation Of Speech 43 includes, among others, gestures, laughter, smiles, tears, and sign language, and which complements verbal behaviour—the preponderance of nonverbal communication is another feature Herodotus shares with Homer. According to Lateiner, nonverbal communication is “an aspect of literary method that conveys the cultural context and personal psychology of his [i.e. Herodotus’] participants great and small”,30 “externalize[s] psychological attitudes and emphasize[s] the drama of the important moment”.31 Herodotus, just like Homer, Thucydides, the orators and the tragedians, is well versed in the aesthetic purposes of speech regulation, and makes frequent and masterful use of differing degrees of silence. Dramatic silences are used extensively. A paradigmatic example is Gorgo, the daughter of Cleomenes. She first appears in the private scene between Aristagoras, the tyrant of Miletus, and Cleomenes, the king of Sparta, when the former visits the latter at his home to beg him for his help with the Ionian revolt (5.51). Gorgo, like the characters in tragedy, appears one-dimensional until the point it becomes useful and dramatically necessary to give her a voice. Attention is first drawn to her presence when Aristagoras requests Cleomenes sends her out—32 the narrative thus anticipates her role. Apart from her being an eight- or nine-year-old child (5.51.1: ἐὸν ἐτέων ὀκτὼ ἢ ἐννέα ἡλικίην), the information that she is also female (5.51.1: θυγάτηρ) gives readers the impression that she is most likely a mute person. Then all of a sudden, through her outburst of a single powerful sentence of direct speech Gorgo intervenes decisively in the discussion between Cleomenes and Aristagoras, affecting its outcome: she advises her father to depart before he succumbs to Aristagoras’ bribery (5.51.2–3). By calling to mind epic and tragic patterns, Herodotus intensely drama- tizes the circumstances and heightens their urgency. But the intertextual play goes further than that and silence is put to new uses. Given that Cleomones is about to make a crucial decision, the brief speech of little Gorgo strikes a rather comical note compared to scenes in epic and tragedy, and overturns the audience’s expectations regarding mute children in drama. At the same time, Gorgo overturns not only gendered speech expectations—since Greek women were expected to be silent, even though Spartan women had more freedom than other Greek women—but also cultural and political expectations. The focus on Cleomenes’ daughter challenges the male-dominant model, and

30 See Lateiner 1987: 107. 31 See Lateiner 1989: 30. 32 See Hdt. 5.51.1: ἐσελθὼν δὲ ἔσω ἅτε ἱκετεύων ἐπακοῦσαι ἐκέλευε τὸν Κλεομένεα ἀποπέμψαντα τὸ παιδίον. 44 CHAPTER 1 particularly his own personal role, in decision-making.33 On a cultural level, women’s speech is a very frequent phenomenon in the Histories but is mainly reserved for barbarian women. By allocating speech to Gorgo, Herodotus may seem to be sceptical towards Greek norms and also to feed into Sparta’s depiction as the Greek ‘other’.34 Equally forceful are the cases of the dumb son of Croesus who unexpectedly speaks in order to save the life of his father (1.85.4); Croesus on the pyre when, after a long pause, he shouts Solon’s name three times (1.86.3); and the Spartan allies who remain voiceless after the speech of the Spartans in which they try to convince them to re-establish Hippias as tyrant of Athens, and only break their silence when they hear Socles talking (5.93.2).35 Thinking in terms of speech and power is particularly useful when assess- ing the role of silence in the Histories. The link between speech and power is pervasive in Herodotus and covers a wide spectrum. For example, it refers to the way Herodotus exercises ‘power’ over his material while composing his text, i.e. his own speech; the way the author exercises power over his readers in guiding the process of interpretation; the way the respective political contexts allow speech to people; the way speech is used to claim, assert or contest the power of individuals. The interaction between different notions of power is an integral part of the Herodotean narrative technique and scholars have accordingly looked into diverse manifestations of power in the Histories. Steiner36 interestingly considers writing to be a demonstration of tyrannical power and speechmaking as a display of power in a democracy, observing that Herodotus risks entering the world of the tyrant while he composes his written work. For Kurke,37 metals and coins manifest aristocratic and popular power respectively, while Barker38 has explored the way in which Herodotus negotiates the notion of power through his use of oracles.

33 Cf. also Naiden (2006: 144): “The daughter’s name, translatable as ‘Gorgon’, refers to her apotropaic quality . . . Thanks to this quality, she not only sees what the adults do not— the threat overlooked by her father and the offence unacknowledged by Aristagoras—but also protects the adults from the consequences of what they are about to do. They are venal or weak but she is strong, a contrast that is all the greater because they are leaders”. 34 On Herodotus’ women, see e.g. Rosellini and Saïd 1978; Dewald 1981; briefly Lateiner 1985: 93–6. On women in Greek literature, see e.g. McClure 1999; Lardinois and McClure 2001; Heath 2005: 185–92. 35 Cf. Moles 2007: 255. The last case is analyzed below, ch. 2. 36 See Steiner 1994 (esp. pp. 127–85 [Herodotus], 186–241). 37 See Kurke 1999. 38 See Barker 2006. Allocation Of Speech 45

Power has further been associated with knowledge and truth.39 Concerning Herodotus, scholars have addressed the dynamics between power and truth/ knowledge on the level of the narrator, and aspects of Herodotus’ power over his literary creation will be treated more extensively in the Conclusion. In this chapter the main focus will be on the power of individuals as articulated through Herodotus’ meaningful allocation of speech. I will reframe the relationship between speech and power in a more nuanced way by introducing authority into the scheme and distinguishing between authority and power. I will then examine how the power-authority distinction and its relation to speech are set up and operate within the different political contexts of Greece and Persia. The discussion will include Xerxes and a number of Greek individuals that play an instrumental role in the narrative. I will propose that the build- up of individual authority and power in the Histories is another subtle way in which Herodotus draws attention to similarities and differences between Greeks and barbarians, as well as to competitive and disuniting sentiments among the Greeks.

1.1.2 Alternation of Speech Modes Switching from direct to indirect speech modes when reporting discussions between individuals or groups, or when narrative style turns into direct speech with no proper introduction, is not an exclusively Herodotean characteristic. In this respect Herodotus is operating within a wider intertextual framework. The model of transitioning from direct to indirect speech modes and vice versa can be found in Homer. Excluding speeches which interrupt the narrative and are introduced with specific formulae, there are many cases where direct or, more frequently, indirect speech is inserted into the speeches of several characters—what de Jong calls ‘embedded speech’.40 A very neat example of this is Il. 6.164–5, where Glaucus quotes in direct speech Anteia’s words in the Bellerophontes story. It should also be said that in Homer the characters are

39 This relationship has also been integral in Foucault’s work. The close link between power and knowledge is reflected in Foucault coining the formulation power/knowledge (Foucault 1980b), to which truth is intextricably related (Foucault 1980a). See also Foucault’s 2001 analysis of the connections between speech, truth and power (more specifically in the sense of speaking the truth to those who are in power) particularly in a selection of Euripidean tragedies. Cf. Laird’s (1999: 2) discussion of the Odyssean scene between Telemachus and Penelope (Od. 1.325–65) which echoes the same idea about the close relationship between power, truth and knowledge. 40 See de Jong 1987a: 168–79 (Iliad). On embedded speech in both the Iliad and the Odyssey, see Beck 2009: 148–50. 46 CHAPTER 1 much more inclined than the narrator to alternate between different speech modes when reporting a single speech or an exchange of speeches. Further examples of this strategy, in the form of narrative style turning into speech, occasionally appear in lyric poetry.41 Some of the cases we come across in Pindar (Isth. 8.31–5a),42 Bacchylides (11.104) and Sappho (1.18 l–p) entail a rather abrupt shift from oratio obliqua to oratio recta which resembles that in Hecataeus’ fragment F 30 and a few Herodotean passages.43 The technique of variation between oratio recta and obliqua is taken up by dramatic poetry.44 It is worth mentioning one particularly subtle example of a sudden switch at Aeschylus’ Agamemnon 611, where Fraenkel45 already observes the “very natural” transition between direct and indirect discourse in Clytaemestra’s speech.46 Sophocles makes proficient but infrequent use of this ploy. The technique is extensively employed by Euripides, who incorporates direct speech, especially in his messenger-speeches,47 much more often than Aeschylus or Sophocles,48 while Aristophanes shows a comparable preference for embedded

41 On the inclusion of direct speech in lyric poetry, see Bers 1997: 19–21; Hornblower 2004: 317–20 (on Pindar and Bacchylides; pp. 325–6 provide a list of the direct speeches in the two poets). 42 Hornblower (2004: 320) draws attention to Themis’ speech as a unique example “whose integration into the narrative is particularly interesting and subtle, and which is unlike anything in Homer or the historians in that narrative and speech, or rather indirect and direct speech, merge without a formulaic introduction for the direct speech”. Cf. Hornblower 2008: 33. 43 Cf. above, p. 23 and n. 111. 44 For a survey of the use of direct speech in drama, see Bers 1997: 23–128. 45 See Fraenkel 1950: 303. This is very effective dramatically and it looks as if the playwright intends to incite the audience by making the ending of Clytaemestra’s long speech very powerful. 46 See Aesch. Ag. 604–12: ταῦτ᾽ ἀπάγγειλον πόσει· / ἥκειν ὅπως τάχιστ᾽ ἐράσμιον πόλει· / γυναῖκα πιστὴν δ᾽ ἐν δόμοις εὕροι μολὼν / οἵαν περ οὖν ἔλειπε, δωμάτων κύνα / ἐσθλὴν ἐκείνῳ, πολεμίαν τοῖς δύσφροσιν, / καὶ τἄλλ᾽ ὁμοίαν πάντα, σημαντήριον / οὐδὲν διαφθείρασαν ἐν μήκει χρόνου./ οὐδ᾽ οἶδα τέρψιν οὐδ᾽ ἐπίψογον φάτιν / ἄλλου πρὸς ἀνδρὸς μᾶλλον ἢ χαλκοῦ βαφάς “Give this message to my husband: let him come with all speed, his country’s fond desire, come to find at home his wife faithful, even as he left her, a watchdog of his house, loyal to him, a foe to those who wish him ill; yes, for the rest, unchanged in every part; in all this length of time never having broken any seal. Of pleasure from any other man or of scandalous repute I know no more than of dyeing bronze”. 47 Note also that the messengers in Euripides also use the shift from direct to indirect speech: they mention the words of some characters directly and others indirectly (de Jong 1991: 137–8). 48 See de Jong 1991: 131–9. Allocation Of Speech 47 direct speech. In Herodotus, the shift from indirect to direct speech modes or vice versa may be observed either in debates and conversations or within the speech of the same speaker.49 Regarding the functions of embedded direct discourse, for de Jong the main effect in the Iliad is dramatic vividness when the characters want “to draw attention to an important point in their story”; “to increase the apologetic . . . , persuasive . . . or taunting . . . force of their speech”; and “to externalize their own hopes/fears”. The function of direct speech in the Euripidean messenger-speeches is cast along similar lines: vividness; introducing material important to the story; reinforcing the pathos; and highlighting the message of the messenger. Meanwhile, embedded indirect discourse in both Homer and Euripides, reduces the emphasis on someone’s words and indicates that what they say is considered by the speaker as less important, or that the speaker intends to play down the impact of their words.50 Equally interesting observations are produced by de Jong’s examination of the cases, albeit infrequent, when Homer uses indirect discourse to report the speeches of characters. Hereby the poet summarizes speeches—because the speeches or the speakers are considered less important, or the speeches have similar content, or the poet wishes to prepare for a speech that follows by summarizing its content—51 and integrates speeches which refer to a period outside the timeframe of the story of the Iliad.52 Direct speech, then, is systematically linked to effectiveness and significance,53 and indirect speech to the opposite. Indirect speech is also

49 Some examples of the latter are: Hdt. 1.118, 125.2; 3.156.2–3; 4.118; 5.31.1; 9.2. Note, however, that in Hdt. 1.118, 1.125.2, 3.156.2–3, 9.2 the precipitance of the switch is slightly moderated with the introductory verb not omitted altogether but rather following after a few words of direct speech in the form ἔφη λέγων/ἔφασαν λέγοντες. Cf. also de Bakker 2007: 35 and n. 31. Some striking examples of debates and conversations are given in Appendix 1. 50 For Homer, see de Jong 1987a: 178–9. Beck (2009: 150–1) further refines de Jong’s model and summarizes some of the reasons for employing non-direct speech in Homer: “highlighting a nearby directly quoted speech”, and “characterizing a speech as more of an action than a speech, as with servants performing the orders of a master or mistress; or the representation of secrecy or privacy, as with surreptitious reports given to Penelope about Telemachus’ journey while the suitors revel about her”. On the use of different kinds of non-direct speech in Homer, see further Richardson 1990: 70–88. For Euripides, see de Jong 1991: 131–9. 51 Cf. Richardson (1990: 74): “Occasionally a speech introduction contains an indirect pre- view of the direct speech” (e.g. Il. 23.204). 52 See de Jong 1987a: 114–18. 53 See Richardson 1990: 76, 78. 48 CHAPTER 1 connected to narrative duration (the relationship between discourse time and story time);54 in Homer, in particular, the narrator employs indirect speech when he does not want to dwell on details by interrupting the narrative flow with a direct speech.55 Bers’ comments, as regards the effects of integrated direct speech in drama, are similarly focused on clarity in performance (direct speech highlights the content and lends it greater intelligibility) as well as mimetic effect through the report of the prominent voice.56 More interesting still is his conclusion that direct speech in both tragedy and oratory is not essentially more lively or vivid than the surrounding text.57 The main difference between direct speech and the surrounding narrative is observed “in the presentation of language that is solemn, portentous, or in some other sense carries great weight in accomplishing the poem’s business”; in such cases, epic, lyric, and tragedy prefer oratio recta.58 Importance of characters and speeches, effectiveness and rhetorical impact, vividness,59 production of emotion and narrative pace—all are at play in the slide between direct and indirect speech modes in the Histories. Waters60 sees dramatization (which produces vividness) as the main purpose of Herodotus’ using direct speech, which serves a genuinely historical purpose (conveys causes and motives in war and politics) rather than a literary one, while he also holds that the alternation between direct and indirect speech creates variety. For Lang, direct speech marks importance and lends more emphasis than indirect speech, and the shift from indirect to direct discourse in the Histories produces “a build-up of interest and tension”.61 The most systematic treatment of the topic is found in de Bakker.62 He considers repetition in a summarized form and back reference as the two functions of indirect speech modes in Herodotus which contribute to an economical narrative presentation. De Bakker further relates the choice of speech modes, their alternation and the omission of speeches to the pace of Herodotean

54 On narrative pace, see above, p. 10 and n. 39. 55 See Richardson 1990: 79. 56 See Bers 1997: 23–5 and 23–128 with comments on individual passages. 57 See Bers 1997: 223–5. 58 See Bers 1997: 225. 59 What the ancient rhetoricians called enargeia. On enargeia in Greek historiography, see Walker 1993. 60 See Waters 1966; 1985: 63–9. 61 See Lang 1984: 142–9 (quotation from p. 149). Similarly Scardino (2007: 122, 332–7) accepts importance, suspense, vividness and dramatization as the effects of embedding direct speeches in the Herodotean text. 62 See de Bakker 2007: 36–48. Allocation Of Speech 49 narrative, with the claim that direct speech slows down the narrative. In this context, in an exchange of speeches, direct discourse is used to focus on a specific individual and his utterances which are contrasted to those of others quoted in indirect speech modes.63 Direct speech serves the same highlighting function in non-scenic narrative as well as in individual speeches, where there is a transition from direct to indirect speech modes or the other way round, and in puns. All of these observations are important, and narrative pace plays a vital role in Herodotus’ choice of and variation between speech modes as well as in the omission of speeches. Herodotus thus prolongs speeches or whole scenes which are important to his narrative, by quoting them in direct discourse,64 or pauses the narrative to increase suspense.65 A few examples will shed further light on these compelling narrative effects. Alarmed by the increase of Athenian power after the expulsion of the Peisistratids, the Spartans convene a congress of their allies to consider the option of reinstalling Hippias as tyrant in Athens (5.91–3). Apart from the Spartan speech, we are given the speech of the Corinthian Socles which is by far the longest direct speech in the Histories and is important in that it highlights the urgency of the situation: the Spartans are interfering with the internal affairs of another city and contemplating imposing an institution with sweepingly debilitating effects. At Marathon, the speech of the Athenian general Miltiades to Callimachus, the Athenian polemarch, in which the former attempts to make the latter agree on an engagement with the Persians (6.109.2–6), functions both as a narrative delay which boosts the suspense before the actual battle, and as a device to flag importance: the speech instigates action since its persuasiveness will decide whether a battle will take place. At Salamis, the intense debates in direct speech before the battle on both the Greek and the Persian side dramatize the circumstances and increase the tension. In this battle narrative, suspense is produced not only by the frequent inclusion of direct speech but

63 This phenomenon is labelled by Laird (1999: 101) as ‘angled narration of dialogue’ (and), and is briefly described as follows: “The words of one speaker are spotlighted by being given in direct discourse; whilst the words of his interlocutor are presented by the narrator in indirect discourse. The words of the speaker who is quoted in direct discourse tend to have the most impact in these situations”. 64 Duration signals importance. 65 Suspense is a technique that Herodotus shares with Homer where there is a strong tendency to slow down the narrative at moments of high tension. On suspense in Homer, see Rengakos 1999; Morrison 1992; de Jong 2007: 22–8 (passim). For Herodotus, see Rengakos 2001: 261–8 and 2006: 191–207 (books 7–9); de Jong 1999: 242–51 (specifically in the story of Adrastus 1.34–5). 50 CHAPTER 1 also by the common interchange between speech modes and the recurrence of debates.66 Repeated discussions among the Greeks as to where to fight the enemy—the Isthmus or Salamis—slow down the narrative and underline the fragility of the Greek alliance to the point that readers are wondering whether the Greeks are ever going to reach a decision, and whether an actual battle will eventually take place.67 Specifically considering the alternation between diverse speech modes, I would like to elaborate further on the idea that direct speech sharpens the focus on certain individuals and/or speeches by assigning to indirect speech a similar function as a focusing device. In this kind of construction, indirect speech attracts the attention of the audience to the direct speech which follows (or, in some cases, precedes). Hence, the utterance quoted in direct speech is emphasized and, at the same time, the person who uses direct speech is singled out from the rest. This is the case, for example, with the following scenes: Aristagoras, Cleomenes and Gorgo (5.51); Socles and Hippias (5.92–93.1); Aristagoras and the Naxians (5.30.3–6).68 In the first scene, Aristagoras comes as a supplicant to Cleomenes and eventually tries to bribe him to get his help with the Ionian revolt. The exchanges in indirect speech between Aristagoras and Cleomenes are nicely rounded off by Gorgo’s one-liner given in direct speech. In the second scene, Socles’ direct speech in the council of the Spartan allies is only followed by Hippias’ brief response in indirect discourse. In the third scene, Naxian exiles ask Aristagoras for military forces to return home. The spotlight falls on Aristagoras’ direct speech, which is preceded and followed by the words of the Naxians reported in indirect discourse. Yet, in each situation more than one effect is simultaneously sought. Thus Hippias’ answer that “the day would come when the Corinthians, troubled by the Athenians, would long for the Peisistratids” (5.93.1), might appear rather enigmatic after Socles’ long and elaborate speech. It is, nevertheless, intra- textually linked with the quarrel between the Athenian Themistocles and the

66 For all conversations and debates in the Salamis narrative and their respective speech modes, see Appendices 1 and 2. 67 Greek debates in direct and indirect discourse: 8.49 (resumed at 56), 59–63, 74, 78 (resumed at 81); see also the direct speech of Mnesiphilus (8.57) and the exchanges, in direct speech, between Themistocles and Aristeides (8.79–80). Persian debate: 8.67–9. Rengakos (2001: 266–8; 2006: 199–202) emphasizes the fear of the Persians in the major battle narratives, including Salamis, as a central motif which contributes to the misdirection of the reader in terms of the Greeks’ reaction and thus raises the suspense. 68 Further instances include: Xerxes and Demaratus (7.209.2–210.1); Mnesiphilus and Themistocles (8.57–58.1); Themistocles and Eurybiades (8.58.1–62). See Appendices 1 and 2 for the speech modes employed in these cases. Allocation Of Speech 51

Corinthian Adeimantus in the Salamis narrative (8.59, 61). It also has an extratextual function: it applies perfectly to the historical situation during the pre- lude to the Peloponnesian War as Thucydides relates it, when the Corinthians, annoyed with the Athenians on account of the events at Corcyra and Potidea, try to incite Sparta against Athens (1.67–88). With both Aristagoras and Cleomenes being granted rsa,69 Herodotus attracts attention to Gorgo’s single direct utterance which, as mentioned earlier, is at the same time a powerful breaking of her dramatic silence that has been so carefully set up. Aristagoras’ speech to the Naxian exiles interacts with the accompanying narrative which explains his motivation and thus reflects the manipulation of truth—the word μηχανήσομαι ‘I will contrive/devise’ is used pointedly here (5.30.4).70 The shift from direct to indirect speech modes is not only relevant when it comes to relating exchanges of speeches or individual speeches. It has a wider, overarching function which bears upon the significance of characters in the Histories. Throughout the work people destined to play a major role in the narrative are given indirect speech when first introduced (e.g. Histiaeus at 4.137.2, Artabanus at 4.83.2, Demaratus at 7.3.2–3, and Themistocles at 7.143). Only later does Herodotus allow them direct speech when the most suitable narrative opportunity arises. However, it should be clear by now that Herodotus never seeks one effect alone. In Herodotus’ handling of these characters, compressed indirect discourse is intended to increase suspense and dramatization when juxtaposed with later scenes where the individuals are actually allocated direct speech. This broader function of the switch between speech modes suggests that selectivity in the deployment of speech and specific speech modes is associated with deeper interpretative strands which permeate the whole of the Histories. A corresponding connection between alternating speech modes and narrative themes in Homer has been observed by Beck who, although limiting herself to a conversation or scene, duly recognizes the narrative significance of indirect speech. Using the dialogue between Achilles and Patroclus in Il. 11.602–6 as her main paradigm, Beck notes that the transition from direct to non-direct speech modes features “around a thematically prominent and meaningful part of the story”, which in turn “suggests that the technique specifically highlights that theme by—for example—drawing out the complexities of who is responsible for Patroclus’ death at the moment when the train of events leading to his

69 rsa (‘Record of Speech Act’) is explained above, p. 4 and n. 15. 70 This speech is discussed below in ch. 3. 52 CHAPTER 1 death is seen to begin”; in this sense employing different speech modes rather than just direct speech is much more effective.71 Returning to Herodotus, this chapter argues that the author manipulates the use of speech modes in order to bring out and exemplify the two major narrative themes under scrutiny here, the Greek disunity and the strengthening and challenging of the Greek-barbarian polarity. The shift between direct and indirect speech modes becomes the means by which the contrast between the reticent Spartans and their verbose and eloquent interlocutors, or other Greeks talking in different contexts, is drawn. When dealing with the ‘us versus them’ distinction, the modes and amount of speech distributed to Greeks and Persians problematize the relationship between them: direct speech is used for both sides but with higher frequency among the Persians; a variety of speech modes features on the Greek side along with compressed or suppressed discussions.

1.2 Greek vs. Greeks

Diverse groups of Greeks and an assortment of Greek individuals are granted speech in the Histories. The allocation of speech is not random. On the contrary, it is particularly significant for the depiction of Greek unity. This unity is rendered fragile in three different ways, which are dealt with in detail in the following discussion: the compressed or suppressed representation of Greek debates, where the focus lies on mutually opposing opinions and the singling out of individuals (1.2.1); the omissions of speeches which make Sparta and Athens the centre of attention and reinforce the polarization between these two cities (1.2.2); setting Spartan silence against Athenian and other Greek eloquence to bring out different national characteristics that make it hard to keep the Greeks together (1.2.3).

71 See Beck 2009: 148. See also Beck 2008: 369–73 (note esp. p. 373: “In all these examples, then, indirect speech affirmatively de-emphasizes a speech; it does not passively reflect an obvious or inherent lack of importance in the speeches that are represented this way. This shows that indirect speech has specific qualities distinct from those of direct speech that contribute positively to the narrative, even though the main narrator chooses the qualities belonging to direct speech the vast majority of the time”). Allocation Of Speech 53

1.2.1 Greek Debates Compressed and Suppressed A strong degree of selectivity is evident in Herodotus’ narration of debates.72 The longest, most elaborate and formal debates occur before Salamis, before Plataea when the Tegeans and the Athenians are quarrelling (9.26–7), and when the goal is an alliance, as in the cases of the Greek messengers and Gelon (7.157–62), of Alexander, the Spartans and the Athenians (8.140–4), and of the envoys sent on behalf of Athens and the Spartans (9.7–11).73 Apart from these intense verbal exchanges, Herodotus glosses over all other Greek debates, which he usually compresses by quoting them largely in indirect speech modes. The compressed debates create a picture of hampered discussion among the Greeks. Before we discuss how Herodotus goes about reporting Greek debates, it is worth noting that selectivity in recording speeches is not limited to Herodotus alone. In Homer the μέν . . . δέ construction functions as a focusing device and is used to juxtapose the one with the many, as in the case of Thersites.74 A similar effect is achieved through the use of the formulaic verse ὥς ἔφαθ’, οἵ δ’ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ “so he spoke, and they all became hushed in silence”. The formula appears at the end of a speech and creates a contrast between the rest who remain silent and another person who speaks and replies to that speech. Montiglio’s view that this phrase “pictures the freezing of an audience in reaction to a compelling speech” and “contemplates silence as a behavior of the entire body”,75 further sharpens the contrast between the many and the one who does not conform to collective attitude and who stands out from the crowd. A good example of this phrase occurs in the council of the gods in Iliad 8, where the other gods who remain silent, astonished as they are by Zeus’ speech, are contrasted with the only god who actually replies, Athena.76 Equally powerful is the antithesis between the rest of the

72 For a list of Herodotean debates and their speech modes, see Appendix 2. For a definition of debate, see below, p. 105. 73 These speeches are analyzed in chs. 3 and 4. 74 E.g. Il. 2.211–12: ἄλλοι μέν ῥ᾽ ἕζοντο, ἐρήτυθεν δὲ καθ᾽ ἕδρας· / Θερσίτης δ᾽ ἔτι μοῦνος ἀμετροεπὴς ἐκολῴα “Now the others sat down and were restrained in their places, only there still kept chattering on Thersites of measureless speech”; Od. 8.532–3: ἔνθ᾽ ἄλλους μὲν πάντας ἐλάνθανε δάκρυα λείβων, / Ἀλκίνοος δέ μιν οἶος ἐπεφράσατ᾽ ἠδ᾽ ἐνόησεν “Now from all the rest he concealed the tears that he shed, but Alcinous alone was aware of him and noticed”. 75 See Montiglio 2000: 47. 76 See Il. 8.28–30: ὣς ἔφαθ᾽, οἱ δ᾽ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ / μῦθον ἀγασσάμενοι· μάλα γὰρ κρατερῶς ἀγόρευσεν. / ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ μετέειπε θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη “So he spoke, and they all 54 CHAPTER 1 suitors and Amphinomus, the only one to respond to Antinous’ speech in Od. 16.393–4.77 Another Homeric technique also demonstrates careful consideration when reporting speeches. A single direct speech is often given to more than one character who are unlikely to have said exactly the same things. This one speech (which was in fact never spoken in this way) rather summarizes several similar speeches of different individuals spoken at around the same time— sometimes it even summarizes several similar speeches of the same individual (e.g. Odysseus’ speeches at Il. 2.190–7, 200–6). Richardson classifies this as a type of “mediated record of speech” which he calls “pseudo-direct speech”.78 Richardson also quotes the collective speech of the elders at the Skaian gates when they see Helen for the first time (Il. 3.154–60) as a representative example of speech allocated to a group of people. This strategy helps the narrator focus on the content when “the effect of the scene depends on our hearing the very words spoken, but the scene would be weakened by a faithful rendering of the entire conversation”.79 Narrative pace is an equally important factor. Thucydides uses the μέν . . . δέ construction in a comparable way. In the History the phrase “other opinions were expressed (on both sides) and also . . .” becomes almost formulaic and again operates as a focusing device.80 This is an extreme case of selectivity, whereby Thucydides chooses to quote only one speech in direct discourse and the rest of the speeches in

became hushed in silence, marvelling at his words; for very strongly had he addressed the assembly. But finally there spoke among them the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena”. 77 ὣς ἔφαθ᾽, οἱ δ᾽ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ. / τοῖσιν δ᾽ Ἀμφίνομος ἀγορήσατο καὶ μετέειπε “So he spoke, and they were all hushed in silence. Then Amphinomus addressed their assembly, and spoke among them”. The formula is strongly reminiscent of three Herodotean cases: 5.92.1: οἱ μὲν νυν ἄλλοι ἡσυχίην ἦγον, Κορίνθιος δὲ Σωκλέης ἔλεξε τάδε “everyone else was silent, but the Corinthian Socles said the following”; 7.10.1: σιωπώντων δὲ τῶν ἄλλων Περσέων . . . Ἀρτάβανος . . . ἔλεγε τάδε “while the rest of the Persians were silent, Artabanus said the following”; 9.42.2: σιγώντων δὲ τῶν ἐπικλήτων . . . αὐτός γε Μαρδόνιος ἔλεγε “since the assembled officers were silent, Mardonius spoke”. 78 See Richardson 1990: 80–2. 79 See Richardson 1990: 82. 80 A few examples are: 1.79.2: καὶ τῶν μὲν πλεόνων ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτὸ αἱ γνῶμαι ἔφερον· . . . παρελθὼν δὲ Ἀρχίδαμος . . . ἔλεξε τοιάδε; 3.36.6: καταστάσης δ’ εὐθὺς ἐκκλησίας ἄλλαι τε γνῶμαι ἀφ’ ἑκάστων ἐλέγοντο καὶ Κλέων ὁ Κλεαινέτου, . . . παρελθὼν αὖθις ἔλεγε τοιάδε; 1.139.4; 4.58.1. See Hornblower 1991: 225; 1996: 221, 284; Rood 1998a: 137 and n. 16; cf. Greenwood 2004: 192 (note esp.: “Throughout the narrative we are reminded of Thucydides’ ability to circum- scribe and restrict the speech of historical protagonists within his History”). Allocation Of Speech 55 indirect discourse (or rsa).81 He also suppresses debates or reports them in compact form.82 A striking case is the notorious suppression of the two debates over whether the Athenians should take the side of the Corinthians or the Corcyreans, which take place in Athens just before the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. Thucydides only records that they changed their minds in indirect discourse and he merely gives the motivation behind that change.83 A last, also Homeric, case of compression is when a single direct speech is allocated to more than one speaker, such as “Cnemus, Brasidas, and the other Peloponnesian commanders” (2.86.6) and “Gylippus and the generals” (7.65.3).84 Returning to the Histories, in Greek debates Herodotus reduces the existing opinions to two opposing ones.85 A noteworthy case is the conference before the battle of Salamis at 8.74.2, which takes place because the Greeks are not

81 Although this technique is more common in epic and historiography, there is an interesting case in Euripides’ Hecuba 107–40, cited by Bers (1997: 24–5) as an example of “those passages of narrative that report an individual voice that is given special prominence”: “Only Achilles’ voice is rendered in or [i.e. oratio recta]; the three specific opinions put forward to the assembly are narrated in oratio obliqua (four if we count separately the two sons of Theseus who share an opinion: 123–5), the final one headed by a florid introduction and given at great length (Odysseus 131–40)”. 82 See e.g. Thuc. 4.88.1: οἱ δὲ Ἀκάνθιοι, πολλῶν λεχθέντων πρότερον ἐπ’ ἀμφότερα, κρύφα διαψηφισάμενοι . . . ἔγνωσαν οἱ πλείους ἀφίστασθαι Ἀθηναίων “The people of Acanthus, after much had been said on both sides, took a secret vote . . ., and the majority decided to revolt from Athens”. 83 See Thuc. 1.44.1: Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ ἀκούσαντες ἀμφοτέρων, γενομένης καὶ δὶς ἐκκλησίας, τῇ μὲν προτέρᾳ οὐχ ἧσσον τῶν Κορινθίων ἀπεδέξαντο τοὺς λόγους, ἐν δὲ τῇ ὑστεραίᾳ μετέγνωσαν Κερκυραίοις ξυμμαχίαν μὲν μὴ ποιήσασθαι “The Athenians listened to both sides and held two assemblies. At the first assembly the Corinthians’ arguments won at least equal favour, but on the next day opinion swung to an alliance with Corcyra”. Cf. Hornblower 1991: 88. 84 Cf. Hornblower 1987: 56. We also come across another Homeric variation of the same model, that is, one speech representing several speeches of the same individual on the same occasion, e.g. the exhortation of Nicias (Thuc. 7.76–7). Herodotus uses a strategy similar to Homer’s and Thucydides’ in 8.108: after the victory at Salamis, when relating the conference of the Greeks at Andros, he reports one indirect speech which is given as Eurybiades’ opinion but then is said to be representative of the rest of the Peloponnesian generals as well (8.108.4: ταύτης δὲ εἴχοντο τῆς γνώμης καὶ Πελοποννησίων τῶν ἄλλων οἱ στρατηγοί). 85 Marincola (2007a: 127) is right in identifying the tendency of the historians to only present two, or at most three, speakers as a generic convention. My point here is that there also are narrative reasons behind such conventions, that a historical narrative as varied as Herodotus’ endorses multiple readings, and that the form of speech is inextricably related to the narrative themes. 56 CHAPTER 1 happy with Eurybiades’ decision to face the invaders at Salamis. Herodotus relates that there was another meeting, where many arguments were put forward about the same matters as before, and only cites two conflicting views, that of some Greeks (i.e. the Peloponnesians) urging to sail for the Peloponnese and fight there, and that of the Athenians, Aeginetans and Megarians urging to stay and fight at Salamis (8.74.2: σύλλογός τε δὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ πολλὰ ἐλέγετο περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν, οἱ μὲν . . . Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ καὶ Αἰγινῆται καὶ Μεγαρέες . . . ).86 The binary opposition of opinions is used quite effectively to emphasize the constant division among the Greeks, and especially the conflicting Spartan and Athenian interests. Elsewhere, Herodotus only gives the prevailing opinion or that which he considers the best, and informs us in passing about other opinions through narrative comments such as “there were many other views”.87 In other cases Herodotus just gives the view which is eventually followed. Thus, for example, before the battle of Thermopylae, when the Greeks are debating where they should fight the Persians, Herodotus does not report any other views but merely reports that “the proposal that won the day was to defend the pass at Thermopylae” (7.175.1: ἡ νικῶσα δὲ γνώμη ἐγίνετο τὴν ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ἐσβολὴν φυλάξαι).88 Moreover, Herodotus often merely quotes the majority view in a compressed manner, in one sentence of indirect speech/rsa instead of a collective speech (e.g. 5.36.2: οἱ μὲν δὴ ἄλλοι πάντες γνώμην κατὰ τωὐτὸ ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ἀπίστασθαι).89 A specific structure, the οἱ μέν—(ὁ/οἱ) δέ, is used fairly often to juxtapose the opinion of one or few people to the prevalent

86 See also 7.142.1–2: γνῶμαι καὶ ἄλλαι πολλαὶ ἐγίνοντο . . . οἱ μὲν . . . οἱ δ’ . . . Cf. 4.137.1–2: πρὸς ταῦτα Ἴωνες ἐβουλεύοντο. Μιλτιάδεω μέν . . . Ἱστιαίου δὲ. 87 For prevailing opinion, see 6.11.1: μετὰ δὲ τῶν Ἰώνων συλεχθέντων ἐς τὴν Λάδην ἐγίνοντο ἀγοραί, καὶ δή κού σφι καὶ ἄλλοι ἠγορόωντο, ἐν δὲ δὴ καὶ ὁ Φωκαιεὺς στρατηγὸς Διονύσιος λέγων τάδε . . . ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Ἴωνες ἐπιτρέπουσι σφέας αὐτοὺς τῷ Διονυσίῳ “Later, when the Ionians were assembled at Lade, they held public meetings. They were addressed by various speakers, but in particular the Phocaean commander Dionysius spoke as follows . . . When the Ionians heard this, they put themselves in Dionysius’ hands”. For best opinion, see e.g. 5.118.2: συλλεχθέντων δὲ τῶν Καρῶν ἐνταῦθα ἐγίνοντο βουλαὶ ἄλλαι τε πολλαὶ καὶ ἀρίστη γε δοκέουσα εἶναι ἐμοὶ Πιξωδάρου “Once the Carians had gathered there, a number of different views were expressed and what I think was the best suggestion came from Pixodarus”. 88 See also 8.9: πολλῶν δὲ λεχθέντων ἐνίκα τὴν ἡμέρην ἐκείνην αὐτοῦ μείναντάς τε καί . . . ; 9.51.1: βουλευομένοισι δὲ τοῖσι στρατηγοῖσι ἔδοξε. 89 “All the rest expressed their agreement and urged revolt”. See also 8.49.2: αἱ γνῶμαι δὲ τῶν λεγόντων αἱ πλεῖσται συνεξέπιπτον. Cf. the Persian parallel at 8.68.1: οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι κατὰ τὠυτὸ Allocation Of Speech 57 view of the majority. The first part introduces the opinion of the majority and the second that of the minority. The case of Hecataeus affords a good example here: when Aristagoras calls a council of the members of his faction to decide whether they should revolt from the Persians, Hecataeus’ viewpoint is forcefully juxtaposed to everyone else’s who agree with Aristagoras and urge him to revolt (5.36.2: οἱ μὲν δὴ ἄλλοι πάντες γνώμην κατὰ τωὐτὸ ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ἀπίστασθαι, Ἑκαταῖος δ’ ὁ λογοποιός . . . ).90 Both the suppression of dissenting voices through their compact versions and the use of the μέν . . . δέ formula function as focusing devices and serve to underline the correctness of the opposed opinion which is favoured by Herodotus himself. Herodotus even elaborates on the views he considers best, even if they are usually neglected in the end. This way a sharp contrast is created with the opinion of the majority, which is taken instead and quite often brings about failure and disaster.91 Hecataeus’ role in the aforementioned council again finely illustrates this. Herodotus intervenes here to indirectly favour Hecataeus’ opinion against a rebellion: “Hecataeus’ proposal was not adopted, but they did decide, none the less, to throw off the Persian yoke”

γνώμην ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ναυμαχίην ποιέεσθαι. Cf. also 1.206.3: τῶν δὲ κατὰ τὠυτὸ αἱ γνῶμαι συνεξέπιπτον κελευόντων ἐσδέκεσθαι Τόμυρίν τε καὶ τὸν στρατὸν αὐτῆς ἐς τὴν χώρην. 90 See also 7.207: τοῖσι μέν νυν ἄλλοισι Πελοποννησίοισι . . . Λεωνίδης δέ. This is also the case with Artemisia: οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι κατὰ τὠυτὸ γνώμην ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ναυμαχίην ποιέεσθαι, Ἀρτεμισίη δὲ τάδε ἔφη (8.68.1). Cf. Croesus when addressing Cyrus: τῶν δὲ κατὰ τὠυτὸ αἱ γνῶμαι συνεξέπιπτον . . . παρεὼν δὲ καὶ μεμφόμενος τὴν γνώμην ταύτην Κροῖσος ὁ Λυδὸς ἀπεδείκνυτο ἐναντίην τῇ προκειμένῃ γνώμῃ (1.206.3–207.1). The only case when the opinion of the minority is given first (οἱ μέν) and the majority second (οἱ δέ) occurs in the Greek debate before Thermopylae (7.219.2: ἐβουλεύοντο οἱ Ἕλληνες, καὶ σφεων ἐσχίζοντο αἱ γνῶμαι· οἱ μὲν γὰρ οὐκ ἔων τὴν τάξιν ἐκλιπεῖν, οἱ δέ ἀντέτεινον “the Greeks were discussing and their opinions were divided; some urged that they must not abandon their post, others the opposite”). The effect of the reverse structure is the emphasis on the important choice of the minority. Note also the odd way the conflicting opinions are recorded: first the one for staying given through negation, and then the other against staying given in an affirmative way through a verb which bears negative meaning. See also Macan 1908b: 323. 91 To my knowledge, Thermopylae is the only case where Herodotus expands on a majority view (7.175.1: ἡ νικῶσα δὲ γνώμη ἐγίνετο τὴν ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ἐσβολὴν φυλάξαι “the point of view that won the day was that they should defend the pass at Thermopylae”), which brings in the end undesirable results. His purpose in explaining in detail the reasoning of the decision to guard the pass at Thermopylae (7.176–7) is to justify the view of the majority in a rather apologetic tone. He clearly shows that Thermopylae was the most suitable location and also that the Greeks had no idea of the Anopaea pass—which was used by the Persians to turn the position—but only learnt of it from the people of Trachis after their arrival (7.175); that was the only defect of the plan. But cf. Macan 1908a: 257. 58 CHAPTER 1

(5.36.4: αὕτη μὲν δὴ οὐκ ἐνίκα ἡ γνώμη, ἐδόκεε δὲ ὅμως ἀπίστασθαι).92 He further lays out Hecataeus’ opinion in detail (5.36.2–3) and explains the negative outcome of the revolt as a consequence of ignoring the best advice because Aristagoras aims at private profit (5.35).93 The distinction drawn between the one and the majority, aided by the use of the μέν . . . δέ structure, additionally points to a sense of fracturing unity among the Greeks as the majority most often proves incapable of reaching a final or right decision, while the individual contribution is privileged. Moreover, the suppression of dissenting voices allows Herodotus to move his narrative faster and avoid unnecessary and wearisome repetition or pointless retardation of long anticipated action. Within a background where Greeks are constantly debating and wrangling, the polarization of opinions and singling out of individuals underline the difficulty of the Greeks to operate collectively. In the following chapters, we will see that the same effect of juxtaposing and splitting the Greeks instead of bringing them together is sought when the narrative pace slows down and long debates are recorded (7.157–62; 8.140–4; 9.7–11; 9.26–7). By expanding and suppressing debates, Herodotus attempts to strike the right narrative balance. The calculated use of debates is not only a narrative technique which reinforces the themes of the work and invites reader participation. It carries further implications for Herodotus’ authority and the nature of his relationship with his readers. We will tackle these aspects in the Conclusion but it is worth flagging up at this point that the stifling of debate only seems to run counter to the dialogism of Herodotus’ text.

1.2.2 Omissions to Highlight Uneasy Atheno-Spartan Relations Herodotus sometimes explicitly states or implies that narrative economy is the reason for the omission of speeches or larger debates. Explicit statement is effected through the use of expressions such as “they said the same things” when narrating the speech of Aristagoras to the Athenians (5.97), the speeches of the Greeks to the Argives, Corcyreans and Cretans (7.148–9, 168–9), and

92 Cf. Herodotus endorsing an opinion at 5.118.2–3: συλλεχθέντων δὲ τῶν Καρῶν ἐνταῦθα ἐγίνοντο βουλαὶ ἄλλαι τε πολλαὶ καὶ ἀρίστη γε δοκέουσα εἶναι μοι . . . αὕτη μέν νυν οὐκ ἐνίκα ἡ γνώμη “once they had all gathered there, a number of different views were expressed, but the best one, in my opinion, was . . . However, this proposal was not adopted”; and disap- proving of another at 6.109.2: ὡς δὲ δίχα τε ἐγίνοντο καὶ ἐνίκα ἡ χείρων τῶν γνωμέων “since the commanders were divided, and since the more cowardly view was beginning to gain the upper hand”. 93 Except for the rest of the interlocutors seeking private profit, the best advice may be ignored because the rest of the interlocutors lack the insight of the person suggesting a certain course of action (e.g. the Carians at 5.118). Allocation Of Speech 59

Murychides’ speech to the Athenians (9.4.1). The omission of Aristagoras’ speeches at Eretria and Argos in his quest for help with the Ionian revolt indirectly serves narrative economy as it significantly speeds up the rhythm of the story. However, besides narrative pace and the avoidance of repetition, by compressing or omitting these speeches Herodotus intends to sharpen the antagonism between Sparta and Athens. Aristagoras repeats at Athens the same things he said at Sparta, trying to get the Athenians’ help for the Ionian revolt.94 We are given only a compact version of the speech in a few lines of indirect discourse, whereas Aristagoras’ speech at Sparta is given in direct discourse (5.49.2–8). The length and elaboration of the speech at Sparta would render repetitive another extensive passage of rhetoric on the same topic.95 Herodotus merely mentions the new argument, the special relationship of metropolis and colony between Athens and Miletus (5.97.2: . . . καὶ πρὸς τοῖσι τάδε, ὡς οἱ Μιλήσιοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων εἰσὶ ἄποικοι . . . ). How does this work towards highlighting the competition between Athens and Sparta? The compressed speech at Athens highlights the fact that Aristagoras convinced the Athenians to help by using the same arguments that failed with Cleomenes alongside a few new ones. Cleomenes seems to be wiser, or more careful in his choices, than the Athenian assembly. Herodotus endorses neither view; he merely illustrates the differing character and political procedures in the two cities. The brevity of the passage shows further the effectiveness of Aristagoras’ operation at Athens.96 The intratextual reference to Aristagoras’ Spartan appeal implies the relevance of that speech and invites the reader to actively juxtapose it with the Athenian one. The diametrically opposed national as well as political character of the two peoples, Spartans and Athenians, is neatly drafted here—their different features that impede harmonious cooperation and foreshadow later tension when they have to work together against the Persians. The formula “they said the same things” is used again when the Greeks loyal to the common cause send messengers to Argos, Corcyra, Crete and Sicily to

94 See Hdt. 5.97.1–2: ταὐτὰ ἔλεγε τὰ καὶ ἐν Σπάρτῃ . . . ταῦτά τε δὴ ἔλεγε. On this speech, see further below, ch. 3. 95 Cf. Hornblower 2008: 33. Branscome (2010: 26 and n. 71) also allows for this possibility (while pointing out the slight divergences in the content of both speeches on pp. 23–6) but his main argument in explaining the brief speech at Athens is the lack of the map that Aristagoras uses at Sparta which therefore becomes the focus of Herodotus’ narrative. 96 Cf. Barker (2009: 156): “The speed with which the Athenians are persuaded is particularly noticeable after the lengthy and drawn-out episode of Aristagoras at Sparta”. 60 CHAPTER 1 secure their support against the Persians (7.145.2). The only exchanges reported at length are those between Gelon, the tyrant of Syracuse, and the Spartan and Athenian messengers (7.157–62). The plea to the Argives is easily dismissed as τὰ ἐντεταλμένα (7.148.3: “the words they were charged with”). The speech to the Corcyreans is omitted; Herodotus only comments in passing, in the form of an analepsis, that the Greeks said to the Corcyreans exactly what they had already said to Gelon before (7.168.1: λέγοντες τοὺς αὐτοὺς λόγους τοὺς καὶ πρὸς Γέλωνα ἔλεγον). We may guess that the same thing is implied about the speech of “those of the Greeks who were charged with this task” to the Cretans (7.169.1: οἱ ἐπὶ τούτοισι ταχθέντες Ἑλλήνων). That all these speeches must have had similar content may be gathered from the intentions of the Greeks as reported at 7.145.2: “the idea was to try to find a way to unite the whole of the Greek world—to get everyone to think and act in concert—on the grounds that all Greeks were equally threatened by the imminent danger”.97 Indeed, the argument about unity in view of the common danger is at play in the collective speech of the Greek messengers to Gelon (7.157.2–3).98 And the Corcyreans, in their reply to the Greeks, given in indirect discourse, address precisely this aspect: “Their immediate reaction was to promise to send reinforcements and to help the war effort, on the grounds that they could not just stand by and watch Greece being destroyed (οὔ σφι περιοπτέη ἐστὶ ἡ Ἑλλὰς ἀπολλυμένη). After all, they said, the fall of Greece would inevitably be followed the very next day by the loss of their own freedom (ἢν γὰρ σφαλῇ, σφεῖς γε οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ δουλεύσουσι τῇ πρώτῃ τῶν ἡμερέων), so they had to do all they could to help” (7.168.1). In the cases of Corcyra, Crete and Argos, Herodotus emphasizes the futility of the pleas focusing on the reasons why these cities do not offer help. For the Corcyreans, the narrative exposes their duplicity and personal interest (7.168.2: ὑπεκρίναντο μὲν οὕτω εὐπρόσωπα “their response had a specious attrac- tiveness”): they promise support and do send ships but, expecting Persian victory, order these to wait at Lacedaemon to see how the war would play out; they also come up with arguments that would make them look good in both the eyes of the Greeks and the Persians depending on the outcome of the war

97 φρονήσαντες εἴ κως ἕν τε γένοιτο τὸ Ἑλληνικὸν καὶ εἰ συγκύψαντες τὠυτὸ πρήσσοιεν πάντες, ὡς δεινῶν ἐπιόντων ὁμοίως πᾶσι Ἕλλησι. 98 See e.g. βοήθει τε τοῖσι ἐλευθεροῦσι τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ συνελευθέρου . . . μὴ γὰρ ἐλπίσῃς, ἢν ἡμέας καταστρέψηται ὁ Πέρσης μάχῃ κρατήσας, ὡς οὐκὶ ἥξει παρὰ σέ γε, ἀλλὰ πρὸ τούτου φύλαξαι· βοηθέων γὰρ ἡμῖν σεωυτῷ τιμωρέεις “help those of us who are fighting for the freedom of Greece and join our struggle . . . If the Persians defeat us in battle and make us their subjects, you should not expect them not to pay you a visit but you should take precautions; by helping us you are helping yourself”. Allocation Of Speech 61

(7.168). Self-interest and piety make the Cretans deny the Greeks any help: they seek divine consultation on whether it is expedient for them to aid the Greek cause and accordingly refuse to interfere because the Pythia points out that, although the Cretans helped the Greeks to avenge the abduction of Helen, the Greeks did not help them to take revenge on the murder of Minos (7.169). Herodotus treats the case of the Argives at considerable length and gives two versions of the story, an Argive and a different one, popular among the Greeks (7.148–52). According to the Argive version, their incentive for not granting the Greeks assistance was hostility towards the Spartans. Herodotus only gives the answer of the Argives to the Greek request and the Spartan response: the Argives asked for a thirty-year treaty with Sparta and for half of the leadership of the Greek forces, whereupon the Spartan delegates came back saying that they were willing to give them only a third of the share, but the Argives rejected this proposal (7.148.3–149). No further exchanges are needed, since the narrative already invites us to foresee the ineffectiveness of the Greek attempt: Argos had long ago been at odds with Sparta (since the battle of Thyrea, 1.82), and more recently, Herodotus reminds us, the Argives had suffered a bloody defeat by the Spartans under Cleomenes at Sepeia (7.148.2). The discussion between the Greek envoys and Gelon, which is referred to explicitly as the model for the speech to the Corcyreans, is related in detail in an extensive debate scene and at the point where it would have the biggest impact. Herodotus has already pointed out that “Gelon was supposed to have enormous resources, far greater than those available to anyone else in Greece” (7.145.2).99 Hence this embassy is presented as the most important and promising; with Gelon’s aid, the Greeks could considerably increase their chances against the Persians. What happens in Sicily is, briefly, this: the Greek messengers approach Gelon with an appeal for help against the Persians; Gelon appears willing to support them, provided that he be the supreme leader of the Greeks, a term that the Spartans reject (he can only be their subordinate, or else they can do without him); Gelon offers his undertaking the command of either the infantry or the navy as a final compromise, whereupon the Athenians intervene to claim the leadership of the fleet; in the end, Gelon denies any help. By suppressing and summarizing the missions to other Greek cities with smaller resources, Herodotus gives centre stage to the mission to Sicily and the combined Greek effort that ultimately fails due to Atheno-Spartan antagonism. A lot is at stake in Sicily, but what obviously matters more to the Spartans and the Athenians is leadership. Over this they fight with Gelon and with one another, each refusing

99 τὰ δὲ Γέλωνος πρήγματα μεγάλα ἐλέγετο εἶναι, οὐδαμῶν Ἑλληνικῶν τῶν οὐ πολλὸν μέζω. 62 CHAPTER 1 to swallow their pride and respond with flexibility to the situation. For readers, the Athens-Sparta-Sicily triangle generates irony in light of the later events and alludes intertextually to Thucydides: Sicily is the ground where the decisive conflict in the war that began as a clash between the Athenian sea-power and the Spartan land-power takes place. Likewise, the compact exchanges between the Spartans and the Argives that also deal with Greek leadership issues have a distinctly prolectical function and serve as an experimental pre-play of the long scene between Gelon and the Greeks.100 We turn to Murychides, the Hellespontine messenger appointed by Mardonius to put the possibility of an Atheno-Persian alliance back on the table. Left in charge of the Persian forces after Xerxes’ departure and having learnt from Alexander of the Athenian rebuff of the Persian alliance (8.140), Mardonius sets out for Athens (9.1–3). Upon finding Athens empty, with the majority of the population transferred to Salamis, he sends Murychides to the island to reiterate the Persian offer (9.4.1). Murychides’ speech is omitted and Herodotus simply mentions that “he told the Athenians what Alexander had already told them before” (9.4.1).101 By leaving out the speech of Murychides— an otherwise unknown individual who appears only once in the Histories—and adding that this was based on the speech of Alexander, Herodotus highlights Alexander’s role earlier in the narrative. His role is even more effective given his ambivalent status somewhere in between the Greeks and the Persians.102 Attention is drawn not only to Alexander but also to the context and dynamics of the scene: when Alexander presents the Persian offer to the Athenians, the Spartans are also there and try to avert the possibility of Athenian medism, while the Athenians have the chance to demonstrate their resolution to fight for Greece and for freedom (8.140–4). Herodotus stresses once again the delicate and rather competitive relations between Athens and Sparta. This is a Sparta which is not only afraid that the Athenians might betray the common cause, but which also has an even deeper and more alarming fear that, if oracles are to be trusted, an Atheno-Persian pact might signal their own expulsion, as well as that of the rest of the Dorians, from the Peloponnese (8.142.1). And this is an Athens that not only makes Alexander wait so that the Spartans would also send envoys to hear their response, but reproaches Sparta for its fear of Athenian medism (8.141.2, 144.1). The repression of the speeches of Aristagoras at Eretria and Argos, when only his speeches at Sparta and Athens are reported, additionally contributes

100 See below, p. 212. 101 φέροντα τοὺς αὐτοὺς λόγους τοὺς καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος ὁ Μακεδὼν τοῖσι Ἀθηναίοισι διεπόρθμευσε. 102 On Alexander’s role in the Histories, see further below, ch. 3. Allocation Of Speech 63 to setting Athens and Sparta against each other. There is no mention of a speech by Aristagoras at Eretria, but we are informed that Aristagoras manages to get five Eretrian triremes to aid the Ionian revolt (5.99.1), which implies that he had obviously asked for Eretrian help. The reason why the Eretrians offer the ships must have been a cardinal argument in Aristagoras’ speech: “they were repaying a debt of honour to the people of Miletus, who some time previously had fought at their side all through their war with the Chalcidians, who in their turn had the support of Samos” (5.99.1). If Aristagoras addressed all the powerful Greek cities, which is a reasonable assumption, then he must have addressed Argos as well—most likely at some point between his visits to Sparta and Athens. And we may gather that the Argives did not offer any help. That it was perhaps an oracle that did not let them do so may be inferred from the narrative context: when the Argives asked about the salvation of their city, the Pythia gave them an oracle (the famous ‘epicene oracle’), which was addressed to both the Argives and the Milesians, although the latter were not present (6.77.2).103 If we accept 499/8 b.c. as the date when the oracle was given to the Argives—104that is, just after Aristagoras requested Argive help—then the oracle and Aristagoras’ speech at Argos explain each other. As Bury suggests, the oracle only makes sense if the Milesians asked for Argive help; accordingly, the Argives consulted the oracle for guidance on what to do,105 but the fearsome divination made them reject Aristagoras’ request.106

103 At 6.77.2 Herodotus reports the part of the oracle relevant to the Argives only: “When the female defeats the male/ and drives him away, winning glory in Argos,/ she will make many Argive women tear their cheeks./ As someday one of men to come will say:/ The dread thrice-coiled serpent died tamed by the spear”. The first four lines of the oracle that concerned Miletus are quoted earlier, when Herodotus narrates the fall of Miletus: “Then, Miletus, perpetrator of evil deeds,/ for many will you become a banquet and glorious gifts;/ your wives will wash the feet of many long-haired men;/ and others will have charge of my temple at Didyma” (6.19.2). 104 See Bury 1902; de Ste. Croix 2004: 426. Piérart (2003: 289–96) does not reject the possibility that an oracle was given to the Argives when Aristagoras asked for their help but argues that the text as we have it in Herodotus was most probably composed after the battle at Lade and the fall of Miletus, reflecting an anti-Ionian attitude and approving of a Greek non-interventionist policy in the Ionian revolt. Cf. Murray (1988: 482): “. . . the oracle given by Delphi to the Argives about this time, with its clear prophecy of doom for Miletus (VI.19), can be seen as a warning to the rest of Greece not to become involved”. 105 In both Herodotus and Thucydides there are several examples of cities consulting the oracle in similar circumstances: e.g. Hdt. 7.148, 169; Thuc. 1.25.1, 118.3. 106 See Bury 1902: 17–18, 25. Pace Murray (1988: 482): “it is unlikely that Aristagoras could have appealed to Argos at the same time as Sparta . . . ” 64 CHAPTER 1

Aristagoras indeed had a very good argument in hand: the kinship bonds between the Argives and the Ionians since Ionia had been partially colonized from Argolis.107 Nevertheless, another speech by Aristagoras would delay the narrative and be rather dull and repetitive—more so because the Argive answer was negative. Herodotus does not omit unsuccessful attempts to achieve alliance altogether. We have seen that he reports, albeit briefly, the ineffective Greek embassies to Argos, Corcyra, and Crete. Here, however, the possibility that Herodotus may be using the oracle to explain in retrospect the negation and omission seems quite appealing and also ties in very well with the narrative pace. That readers would recall the oracle and the association between Argos and Miletus is plausible. That they would be able to interpret the oracle in this way is difficult to say, but at least alert readers are certainly encouraged by the narrative to do so. By withholding Aristagoras’ speeches at Argos and Eretria and reporting only the Spartan and Athenian versions, Herodotus presents the Ionian revolt as another case of antagonism between Sparta and Athens, and brings for the first time the Athenians in contact with their future Ionian subjects.

1.2.3 Spartan Silence Speech may be also used to describe national character, and this is another way in which Herodotus outlines the disparate nature of the Greeks, which resists simple definitions of Greekness and hampers attempts at concord. In terms of speech, the Spartans are set at odds with the rest of the Greeks, above all the Athenians. Herodotus emphasizes Spartan parsimony with words through the allocation of speech to different Greek ethnic groups and the omission or suppression of Spartan speech. Athenian fluency is particularly stressed, thus consolidating the tension between Sparta and Athens that is recurrently spelt out in the narrative. Dislike of long speeches and silence are uniformly presented as distinctive Spartan features in ancient sources, and they are often juxtaposed with the eloquent nature of the Athenians.108 In Thucydides, in the debate at Sparta before the beginning of the Peloponnesian War, the Spartan ephor Sthenelaidas opens up his speech by stating explicitly Spartan distaste for lengthy speeches: τοὺς μὲν λόγους τοὺς πολλοὺς τῶν Ἀθηναίων οὐ γιγνώσκω (1.86.1: “I cannot understand

107 See Bury 1902: 18. 108 On Spartan silence as a channel of communication and its sophisticated manipulation, see especially David 1999: 117–46. Allocation Of Speech 65 all this talk from the Athenians”).109 Pericles refers to, and simultaneously refutes, the Spartan disjunction between words and deeds by noting that in Athens words and actions can go together and that theory does not necessarily make one soft (Thuc. 2.40.1–2). Before the battle of Mantinea, Thucydides outlines the exhortations on both the Athenian and Spartan sides and draws a sharp contrast between the Spartan exhortations and those of their opponents (Athenians, Mantineans, and Argives): “The Spartans on their side spoke their words of encouragement to each other, man to man, singing their war songs, and calling on their comrades, as brave men, to remember what each knew so well, realizing that the long discipline of action is a more effective safeguard than hurried speeches, however well they may be delivered”.110 This persistent Spartan characteristic becomes even clearer when, after the events at Pylos, the Spartan messengers feel the need to explain that their long speech is not an aberration but is required in these circumstances (Thuc. 4.17.2).111 Brasidas’ oratorical skills are exceptional and he is specifically described as “an able speaker for a Spartan” (Thuc. 4.84.2: ἦν δὲ οὐδὲ ἀδύνατος, ὡς Λακεδαιμόνιος, εἰπεῖν). This same Brasidas, while encouraging the allied troops before the battle of Amphipolis, says that he himself is equally proficient at speaking and acting, in an effort to stress his true Spartan nature.112 Other passages in Thucydides reveal yet another aspect to Spartan silence, in the secrecy of their government regarding military arrangements.113

109 That his speech is significantly shorter than that of the king Archidamus which precedes, may be taken as an implied criticism of Archidamus adopting un-Spartan (or, as it were, Athenian) ways (on the contrasting speaking styles of Sthenelaidas and Archidamus, see Francis 1991: 203–5). However, we must also consider the fact that Archidamus resembles Herodotean wise advisers and, therefore, his long speech, where he explores the situation in detail and recommends caution, is consistent with his narrative role. On the relation between Archidamus and the Herodotean figure of the ‘wise adviser’, see Pelling 1991. 110 See Thuc. 5.69.2: Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ καθ᾽ ἑκάστους τε καὶ μετὰ τῶν πολεμικῶν νόμων ἐν σφίσιν αὐτοῖς ὧν ἠπίσταντο τὴν παρακέλευσιν τῆς μνήμης ἀγαθοῖς οὖσιν ἐποιοῦντο, εἰδότες ἔργων ἐκ πολλοῦ μελέτην πλείω σῴζουσαν ἢ λόγων δι᾽ ὀλίγου καλῶς ῥηθεῖσαν παραίνεσιν. 111 See Thuc. 4.17.2: τοὺς δὲ λόγους μακροτέρους οὐ παρὰ τὸ εἰωθὸς μηκυνοῦμεν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπιχώριον ὂν ἡμῖν οὗ μὲν βραχεῖς ἀρκῶσι μὴ πολλοῖς χρῆσθαι, πλέοσι δὲ ἐν ᾧ ἂν καιρὸς ᾖ διδάσκοντάς τι τῶν προύργου λόγοις τὸ δέον πράσσειν. 112 See Thuc. 5.9.10: ἐγώ τε δείξω οὐ παραινέσαι οἷός τε ὢν μᾶλλον τοῖς πέλας ἢ καὶ αὐτὸς ἔργῳ ἐπεξελθεῖν. His words acquire additional significance in light of his wounding in this battle and his death shortly after (5.10.11): his brave fighting and honourable death may be seen as answering possible slanders resulting from his speech skills; despite his eloquence, he was a proper Spartan. 113 E.g. Thuc. 2.39.1; 5.68.2. 66 CHAPTER 1

Spartan aversion to long speeches is likewise evident in tragedy, especially through the character of Menelaus.114 In Xenophon’s Hellenica a specific case stands out as particularly indicative of laconic temperament: the Spartan vice- admiral Hippocrates sends a letter to Sparta relating the events of the battle at Cyzicus. All the letter says is: “The ships are gone. Mindarus is dead. The men are starving. We do not know what to do”.115 Plato in his Protagoras has Socrates praise the brevity and witticism of Spartan speech (342d–343a). Plutarch’s treatise Sayings of Spartans offers a collection of Spartan apophthegms and praises the Spartan timely and concise manner of speaking. A striking example is also offered by Plutarch in Concerning Talkativeness: when King Philip of Macedon writes to the Spartans to ask them if they will receive him in their city, they write on the paper a large ‘no’ (οὐ) and send it back in reply (513a). Ion of Chios puts it well when he describes Sparta as a polis not built by words (tgf 63)—a phrase that resonates with Demosthenes’ conception of Athens as a city based on words (19.184: ἐν λόγοις ἡ πολιτεία). Herodotus denies the Spartans the opportunity to speak and even intentionally foregrounds Spartan reticence. This choice reflects perfectly the Spartan character: the dislike of long elaborate speeches, and the propensity for brevity and outspokenness. The Spartans lay more weight on deeds rather than words. Herodotus has started putting this picture together already in the first books, but the effects become more imposing in the later books when the Greeks, and their voices, occupy a central role in the narrative of the Persian Wars. In books 1 and 3, the Spartans twice appear as men of few words, as opposed to the Greeks of Asia Minor. In book 3, the Samians, exiled by the tyrant Polycrates, appeal to the Spartans for assistance in a campaign against him. They believe that a long speech (3.46.1: ἔλεγον πολλά) would better describe their critical circumstances, but the Spartans famously reply that they have forgotten the beginning of the speech and cannot understand the end.116 The Samians then employ visual aid instead, which requires fewer words: they present a bag and remark that it needs flour. They still fail to fully comprehend the nature of the Spartans, who respond that the word ‘bag’ is superfluous

114 See e.g. Menelaus in Soph. Ajax 1142–9; and in Eur. Or. 638–9: λέγ᾽· εὖ γὰρ εἶπας· ἔστι δ᾽ οὗ σιγὴ λόγου / κρείσσων γένοιτ᾽ ἄν, ἔστι δ᾽ οὗ σιγῆς λόγος “Good advice! Speak. There are times when silence would be better than speech, and the reverse also”. 115 See Xen. Hell. 1.1.23: ἔρρει τὰ κᾶλα. Μίνδαρος ἀπεσσύα. πεινῶντι τὤνδρες. ἀπορίομες τί χρὴ δρᾶν. 116 See Hdt. 3.46.1: οἳ δέ σφι τῇ πρώτῃ καταστάσι ὑπεκρίναντο τὰ μὲν πρῶτα λεχθέντα ἐπιλεληθέναι, τὰ δὲ ὕστερα οὐ συνιέναι. Dewald (2006b: 149) takes this and other such cases (e.g. the Amompharetus episode) as indications of Spartan humour, their distinct ethnic trait. Allocation Of Speech 67

(οἳ δέ σφι ὑπεκρίναντο τῷ θυλάκῳ περιεργάσθαι), but offer their help nevertheless (3.46.2)—only to take revenge on the Samians for the theft of precious gifts (3.47.1). A more subtle manifestation of the same Spartan trait occurs in book 1, where the Spartans are faced with another long speech, this time by the Phocaean Pythermus. He is chosen to speak on behalf of the Ionian and Aeolian delegation dispatched to Sparta to plead for help against Cyrus. The Spartans, apparently unimpressed by Pythermus’ luxurious vest and lengthy speech (1.152.1: ἔλεγε πολλά), reject his request (1.152.1–2). Aristagoras’ case in book 5 (5.49–50) provides further evidence that prolonged speeches accompanied by demonstration and explanation of an object are too extravagant for the Spartans. He delivers a long speech and carries a map of the world with him, which he shows to Cleomenes, but fails to convince him to help the Ionians. Aristagoras follows the same practice when he later pleads with Cleomenes privately in his house (5.51). Holding a branch of olive, Aristagoras presents himself as a suppliant. The branch, however, is both needless and inappropriate for a supplication in someone’s house.117 In that sense it is as superfluous as the map and the prolonged speech, and it may well work against Aristagoras’ interest. On the basis of the Spartan reaction towards the Samian speech in particular, could verbosity also be the reason why the Spartans do not reply to the Athenian speech requesting help, with its covert threat of an Atheno-Persian alliance, at the beginning of book 9 (9.7α.1–β.2)? A reasonable conjecture would be that the Spartans do not understand the point of the speech or even forget its content. Only when the Tegean Chileus summarizes the substance of the Athenian speech in two sentences and sets out the threat openly (9.9.2) do the Spartans finally understand it. Herodotus allows the Spartans either indirect speech or rsa. Thus, in book 6 a plea for help in direct discourse by the Athenian Philippides is met with a Spartan reaction given in RSA (6.106.3). There are only two examples of collective Spartan speeches in direct discourse: one in 5.91.2–3, where they address the allies and suggest reinstituting tyranny in Athens; and another at 8.142, where the Spartan messengers try to deter the Athenians from cooperating with the Persians. A closer reading proves that in the Histories the Spartans who are given oratio recta are ‘un-Spartan’, like Pausanias and Demaratus, who sooner or later somehow relate to the Persians.118 Otherwise Spartan individuals are

117 See Naiden 2006: 144. 118 According to Thucydides (and a few hints in Herodotus), Pausanias later in his career demonstrates a tyrannical attitude and Persian manners, and is accused of collaborating with the Persians. Cf. below, pp. 271–5. The Spartan king Demaratus, after his feud with Cleomenes and his deposition, flees to the court of Darius (Hdt. 6.61–70). 68 CHAPTER 1 depicted as representative of the group. Cleomenes is consistently silenced and merely given some laconic, witty expressions.119 In his conversation with Aristagoras, he is allocated nothing but two short utterances in direct discourse (5.49.9, 50.3),120 and in all other cases he is allocated indirect discourse or rsa. Eurybiades, the Spartan commander and general commander-in-chief of the Greek forces at Artemisium and Salamis, is also denied speech in contrast to the eloquent and versatile—and Athenian—Themistocles.121 In most cases the suppressed speech of a Spartan or a group of Spartans is either followed or preceded by the direct speech of another non-Spartan individual or group, most often Athenian.122 Herodotus thus masterfully extends the effect of the alternation between direct and indirect speech modes, not only to emphasize the Spartan parsimony with words but also to sharpen the confrontation between Sparta and Athens. The representation of Spartan speeches becomes more interesting in the context of longer battle accounts. Proper, extensive and elaborate debate scenes, or even substantial exchanges among the Greeks, are absent from the accounts of Thermopylae (7.201–39), Plataea (9.25–89), and Mycale (9.90– 113), where the Spartans feature more prominently. But debates are far from absent from Salamis (8.40–125), and to a lesser extent from Artemisium (8.1– 26), and Marathon (6.94–120), where the Athenians are the leading men; in all these battle contexts we come across long negotiations, numerous speeches and successive debates. The allocation of speech in the various battle narratives seems to be closely associated with the ethnic character of the protagonists in each battle. Plataea and Thermopylae are two particularly valuable cases to examine in more detail. In the case of Plataea, the preceding narrative does an excellent job in building up a very strong impression of Spartan reticence. After the Athenians reject the Persian offer, the Spartan messengers depart without replying to the Athenian call for help.123 Likewise, for ten days the Spartans give no answer to the Athenian messengers’ call for help against the Persians at

119 See Cleomenes’ answer to the priestess of Athena on the Acropolis, “I am not a Dorian but an Achaean” (5.72.3); and his reply to Crius of Aegina when he makes a pun on his name (6.50.3: “Well then, Crius, you had better have your horns coated with bronze, because a great deal of trouble is coming your way”). 120 See Appendix 1. 121 See further below, pp. 83–4, 86–7. 122 See Appendix 2 (e.g. 8.58.1–62). 123 See Hdt. 8.144.5: οἳ μὲν ταῦτα ὑποκριναμένων Ἀθηναίων ἀπαλλάσσοντο ἐς Σπάρτην. Allocation Of Speech 69 the beginning of book 9.124 In fact, they do not speak until they decide to take some action (9.9.1), and even once decided they do not inform the Athenians about their decision (9.10.1: φράσαντες οὐδέν). Only after the second quasi- extortionate speech of the Athenians—in which they announce that they will unite with the Persians—do the Spartans reveal their intentions in a single sentence of condensed indirect discourse: “The ephors responded by assur- ing the delegates under oath that the Spartans had probably already got as far as Orestheum in their march against the ‘strangers’ ” (9.11.2).125 The variation between the direct speech modes of the Athenians (9.7α.1–β.2, 11.1–2) and the indirect of the Spartans (9.8.1: rsa; 9.11.2: indirect discourse) successfully brings the two cities into juxtaposition. The impact of the scene is amplified by the Homeric or tragic precedents of dramatic silence that Herodotus may be evoking. The Spartans remain silent until it is absolutely necessary for them to speak. By this time, the suspense is heightened and readers are given a keen impression of historical moment; that the fate of the Greek defence rested on a knife-edge, with the Athenians seriously considering taking the Persian side, instigated by Spartan inaction and reticence. This intertextual play intensifies the visual, almost theatrical impact of a scene which seems to have a serio-comic effect: the Athenians are in distress awaiting Spartan help and send messengers to refresh the Spartan memory of the situation; meanwhile, the Spartans are celebrating the festival of the Hyacinthia while simultaneously working on completing the Isthmus wall. The delay in their reply for ten days seems almost comical when the Persians have already reached Boeotia and a third actor, Chileus, is needed to alert the Spartans to the immediacy of the danger (9.6–11). It strikes us as additionally comical that the Athenian messengers close their final speech with a reference to the Hyacinthia: “celebrate your Hyacinthia and have fun having utterly betrayed your allies” (9.11.1).126 There is certainly an ironic slant in the way Herodotus portrays Greek diplomatic relations.

124 See Hdt. 9.8.1: ὡς δὲ ἄρα ἤκουσαν οἱ ἔφοροι ταῦτα, ἀνεβάλλοντο ἐς τὴν ὑστεραίην ὑποκρίνασθαι, τῇ δὲ ὑστεραίῃ ἐς τὴν ἑτέρην· τοῦτο καὶ ἐπὶ δέκα ἡμέρας ἐποίεον, ἐξ ἡμέρης ἐς ἡμέρην ἀναβαλλόμενοι “the ephors asked for a day’s grace before replying to this speech—but then on the next day they postponed their reply for a further day. They went on doing this for ten days, putting their response off from day to day”. 125 οἱ ἔφοροι εἶπαν ἐπ’ ὅρκου καὶ δὴ δοκεέιν εἶναι ἐν Ὀρεσθείῳ στίχοντας ἐπὶ τοὺς ξείνους. 126 For an alternative reading, which makes much of later historical developments, see Flower and Marincola (2002: 114): “The story of the delay might have developed in the years after the Persian Wars, when Athenian enmity with Sparta would portray the lapse in time between the Athenian evacuation and the Spartan appearance as due to Spartan cowardice or hostility. The incident may have also been influenced by the delaying tactics 70 CHAPTER 1

The Plataea narrative commences with the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians over the leadership of the left wing (9.26–7), and here Herodotus again carefully manipulates Spartan speech. The task to decide which of the two contestants is more worthy falls upon the Spartans, as the adjudicators. When both the Athenians and the Tegeans are finished with their speeches, the Spartans merely shout (9.28.1: Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ἀνέβωσε ἅπαν τὸ στρατόπεδον . . . ) and vote for Athens. The Spartan decision and the placement of the Tegeans next to the Spartans in the battle line could have generated a very forceful speech. Voting by acclamation, however, is the typical Spartan way,127 and is also in accordance with their preference for deeds instead of words. In this debate, the Athenian speech contains a delightful hint of awareness of the Spartan nature—as well as evidence of Athenian rhetorical adeptness: “we are aware that the object of this gathering of forces is to fight the invaders (σύνοδον τήνδε μάχης εἵνεκα συλλεγῆναι πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον), not to make speeches (οὐ λόγων)” (9.27.1).128 This exactly reflects the Spartan temperament, and its use is probably calculated by the Athenians to win the Spartans over. Later on, the Spartans leave unanswered Mardonius’ challenge to a duel (9.48–49.1).129 Commentators have acknowledged the heroic qualities of this silence.130 Relating this link between silence and heroism to the handling of silence in the Odyssey as analyzed by Montiglio,131 Flower and Marincola conclude that “the silence here might indicate the Spartans’ utter contempt for the proposal or it might be characteristic of a people who prided themselves on action not words”.132 After the battle of Plataea, the Spartan commander Pausanias uses a simple display and a few words to compare Persian luxury and Greek indigence.133

of Themistocles at Sparta in 479 (Thuc. 1.90–91), with the Spartans here playing the role opposite to the one in that account”. 127 According to Thucydides, the Spartans vote by acclamation rather than ballot (1.87.2: κρίνουσι γὰρ βοῇ καὶ οὐ ψήφῳ). 128 Cf. Thuc. 3.67.6, where the Thebans try to make the Spartans consider deeds more important than words (οὐ λόγων τοὺς ἀγῶνας προθήσοντες ἀλλ’ ἔργων), also at Plataea. Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 153. 129 Their silence is properly emphasized by the double negation: οἱ οὐδεὶς οὐδὲν ὑπεκρίνετο (9.49.1). 130 See Masaracchia 1979: 176–7 (he compares it to the silence of Diomedes when derided by Hector in Il. 8.160–71); Flower and Marincola 2002: 196. 131 See Montiglio 2000: 256–75. 132 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 196–7. 133 See Hdt. 9.82.3: ὡς δὲ τῆς θοίνης ποιηθείσης ἦν πολλὸν τὸ μέσον, τὸν Παυσανίην γελάσαντα μεταπέμψασθαι τῶν Ἑλλήνων τοὺς στρατηγούς, συνελθόντων δὲ τούτων εἰπεῖν τὸν Παυσανίην, Allocation Of Speech 71

In the same vein, before the battle at Mycale, the Spartan general Leotychides interrupts the speech of the Samian messenger Hegesistratus, who has come to ask for the help of the Greeks in the revolt of the Ionians from the Persians,134 just as the Spartan Cleomenes had earlier cut off the speech of the Milesian Aristagoras.135 The most eloquent demonstration by far of the laconic Spartan character in the Plataea account is the Amompharetus episode (9.53–5). Before the battle at Plataea, the Persian cavalry repeatedly harasses the Greeks, and forces them to abandon the spring of Gargaphia. The Greeks, therefore, decide by debate to withdraw to the Island.136 Pausanias announces the orders to the Spartans and all obey him but one Amompharetus. Amazed at the sudden change of plans, Amompharetus refuses to disgrace Sparta by running away from the enemy. Despite the efforts of Pausanias and Euryanax to dissuade him, Amompharetus keeps on arguing violently, till he picks up a large stone in both hands and lays it at Pausanias’ feet as his ‘voting-pebble’ against flight. Pausanias’ reaction is to call him “a fool, who has taken leave of his senses”.137 There is no direct speech in the whole scene. The quarrels between Amompharetus, on the one hand, and Pausanias and Euryanax on the other, as well as between Pausanias and Amompharetus, are recorded in indirect discourse or rsa.138 Direct speech at this point would have provided the scene with additional dramatic vividness, but the scene is already described in a lively fashion, corroborated by the visual element that the mention of the stone

δεικνύντα ἐς ἑκατέρην τοῦ δείπνου παρασκευήν· Ἄνδρες Ἕλληνες, τῶνδε εἵνεκα ἐγὼ ὑμέας συνήγαγον, βουλόμενος ὑμῖν τοῦδε τοῦ Μήδου [ἡγεμόνος] τὴν ἀφροσύνην δέξαι, ὃς τοιήνδε δίαιταν ἔχων ἦλθε ἐς ἡμέας οὕτως ὀϊζυρὴν ἔχοντας ἀπαιρησόμενος “When the food was ready, Pausanias was amused to see the huge difference between the two meals, and he sent for the Greek commanders. Once they were all there, he pointed to the two meals and said, ‘Men of Greece, my purpose in asking you all here is to show you the folly of the Persians, who, living in this style, came to Greece to rob us of our poverty’ ”. Cf. Lateiner 1989: 29. 134 See Hdt. 9.91.2: ὁ δὲ ὑπαρπάσας τὸν ἐπίλοιπον λόγον, εἴ τινα ὅρμητο λέγειν ὁ Ἡγησίστρατος, εἶπε . . . 135 See Hdt. 5.50.3: ὁ δὲ ὑπαρπάσας τὸν ἐπίλοιπον λόγον τὸν ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης ὅρμητο λέγειν περὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ, εἶπε . . . 136 As Herodotus explains: “This Island is located in front of the town of Plataea, ten stades away from the Asopus and the Gargaphian spring, where the Greeks were based at the time. It is a kind of inland island: a river—the River Oëroë, which the locals hold to be the daughter of Asopus—divides further upstream on its way down from Cithaeron to the plain and the two branches of the river remain separate from each other for about three stades before merging again” (9.51.1–2). 137 See Hdt. 9.55.2: ὁ δὲ μαινόμενον καὶ οὐ φρενήρεα καλέων ἐκεῖνον . . . 138 See Appendix 1. 72 CHAPTER 1 introduces. The joking style of the scene encourages readers to picture the episode between the two men who are quarrelling fiercely until one picks up a huge stone, but instead of throwing it at the other he throws it on the ground. The comparison between Amompharetus and the rock—both of whom would not move from their position—that readers are further invited to draw, adds to the comical character of the episode. A direct exchange would make the situation excessively comical. Presenting the episode in the way he does, Herodotus both preserves the grandeur of Amompharetus’ brave resolution and avoids pointless narrative retardation. The throwing of the stone by Amompharetus is a reaction perfectly compatible with the Spartan dislike of words in favour of deeds. Amompharetus ‘says it with deeds’, and not with words. A single sentence in indirect discourse accom- panies his action. At the same time, however, the stone Amompharetus uses is not the typical Spartan way of saying it because, as Hornblower observes, the Spartans usually ‘Say it with Sticks’ and “leave it to less disciplined folk to Say it with Stones”.139 Accordingly, the fact that Amompharetus appears to be unwilling to follow the orders of his commanders allows him to ‘Say it with Stones’. Yet more interpretative strands underlie the episode which is further suggestive of a contrast between Spartan and Athenian ways. The substitution of the Spartan voting by acclamation for a ‘voting-stone’ could be a possible parody of the Athenian voting methods.140 Although Easterling141 argues that voting by pebbles is neither strictly connected with democratic institutions nor exclusive to Athens, it is quite attractive to consider this a travesty of Athenian political procedures because the Herodotean scene takes place in the presence of an Athenian messenger who arrives to ask Pausanias for instructions (9.54–5). Taken as a parody the episode can be placed in the line of common teasing between Athenians and Spartans about each other’s institutions. The best example of this is found in Xenophon’s Anabasis 4.6.10–16: Xenophon says that the Spartans ought to be good at ambushes since they practise stealing from childhood (4.6.14: εὐθὺς ἐκ παίδων κλέπτειν μελετᾶν), while Cheirisophus

139 See Hornblower 2000 (quotation from p. 74 which also discusses the Amompharetus episode). 140 Hornblower (2000: 74) calls the parody effected by Amompharetus “quite a sophisticated joke for a Spartan”, paraphrasing Thucydides on Brasidas (Thuc. 4.84.2: “he was an able speaker for a Spartan”). 141 See Easterling 1985: 2–3 and n. 10. Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 205. Allocation Of Speech 73 replies that the Athenians are very good at stealing public funds (4.6.16: κἀγὼ ὑμᾶς τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ἀκούω δεινοὺς εἶναι κλέπτειν τὰ δημόσια).142 The case of Thermopylae is equally rewarding in terms of speech allocation. The Spartans dominate this battle in the narrative, hence not much emphasis is placed on debates or other exchanges. All the Greek debates are given in indirect speech or rsa (7.175.1–2, 207, 219.2). We find another four compact speeches reported in indirect speech modes. Three of them are tightly packed in roughly five lines of ancient text and anticipate the coming death: Megistias, the Greek soothsayer, “advises the Greeks of the death which awaits them in the morning” (7.219.1 [indirect discourse]); deserters come “with news of the circuit made by the Persians” at night (7.219.1 [rsa]); the same news is brought by “watchers running down from the heights at dawn” (7.219.1 [rsa]). The last indirect speech goes to Dieneces, who in a shrewd one-liner remarks that the stranger from Trachis brings good news: “if the Persians hide the sun, they [i.e. the Spartans] will fight in the shade” (εἰ ἀποκρυπτόντων τῶν Μήδων τὸν ἥλιον ὑπὸ σκιῇ ἔσοιτο πρὸς αὐτοὺς ἡ μάχη καὶ οὐκ ἐν ἡλίῳ) (7.226.2). Herodotus denies the Spartan king Leonidas any direct speech.143 His opinions and decisions are merely recorded either in indirect speech (7.207) or as speech-acts (rsa) (7.205.3, 220.2).144 Leonidas thus stands as the foremost example of Spartan reticence. On the other hand, the omission of speech functions as a focusing device: it concentrates the attention on the preceding and following narrative which relates Leonidas’ deeds and, by elaborating on his choices, thoughts, and motivation, displays his character. Herodotus does not want to distract his reader from the events and actual fighting which portray Leonidas as the most typical example of Spartan—and generally Greek—bravery. The ways in which Herodotus achieves such a powerful effect by exploiting narrative alone without speech are intriguing. First, Herodotus skilfully introduces Leonidas into the narrative: he is presented in an impressive style as

142 Considering the story an example of Athenian-Spartan mockery reasonably weakens the possibility of Athenian sources, raised by the presence of the Athenian messenger as well as by the poor representation of the Spartan commanders, Euryanax and, especially, Pausanias. 143 In Plut. Sayings of Spartans 225 Dieneces’ saying (Hdt. 7.226.2) and other apophthegms are attributed to Leonidas, but Herodotus focuses on Leonidas’ actions instead. 144 See e.g. Hdt. 7.205.3: παρεκάλεε ὦν ἐς τὸν πόλεμον, θέλων εἰδέναι εἴτε συμπέμψουσι εἴτε καὶ ἀπερέουσι ἐκ τοῦ ἐμφανέος τὴν Ἑλλήνων συμμαχίην “He [i.e. Leonidas] appealed for their [i.e. the Thebans’] help in the war because he wanted to find out whether they would supply men for him to take or whether they would shy away from such open support of the Greek alliance”. 74 CHAPTER 1 the ‘most respected’ and the commander-in-chief of the whole army (7.204: ὁ δὲ θωμαζόμενος μάλιστα καὶ παντὸς τοῦ στρατεύματος ἡγεόμενος Λακεδαιμόνιος ἦν Λεωνίδης . . . ),145 whose descent goes back to Heracles.146 This grandiose introduction of Leonidas has three effects: it emphasizes and prepares the reader for Leonidas’ central role in the narrative, all the more so since descent is usually a mark of honour;147 it suggests Leonidas’ virtue, displayed later on in the battlefield; and Leonidas’ ancestry from Heracles brings him very close to the Homeric heroes whose origin is traced back to gods.148 The authorial intervention explaining Leonidas’ decision to dismiss the rest of the army and stay with his Spartan regiment only is also quite significant.149 The comment underlines his valour, the glory (κλέος) he left behind him, and the prosperity of Sparta he thus preserved. This is followed by another passage which brings out even more emphatically Leonidas’ bravery and determination: Herodotus informs us that Leonidas was aware of the Delphic oracle, given to the Spartans at the very beginning of the war, which said that Sparta was destined either to be destroyed or lose a king (7.220.3–4). All three narrative parts speak for Leonidas and they thus compensate for his silence. Moreover, Leonidas’ role is spotlighted structurally by the placement of his fateful decision right in the middle of the Thermopylae narrative. Even Leonidas’ death speaks eloquently for him. The single, short but succinct phrase which describes his death, expresses unreserved respect,

145 Both Leonidas and Artemisia (7.99.1: Ἀρτεμισίης δέ, τῆς μάλιστα θῶμα ποιεῦμαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα στρατευσαμένης γυναικός, . . . ) are placed in the category of θωμαστά that Herodotus has singled out for attention in the first sentence of his proem: ὡς μήτε τὰ γενόμενα ἐξ ἀνθρώπων τῷ χρόνῳ ἐξίτηλα γένηται, μήτε ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά, τὰ μὲν Ἕλλησι, τὰ δὲ βαρβάροισι ἀποδεχθέντα, ἀκλεᾶ γένηται. 146 See Hdt. 7.204: Λεωνίδης ὁ Ἀναξανδρίδεω τοῦ Λέοντος τοῦ Εὐρυκρατίδεω τοῦ Ἀναξάνδρου τοῦ Εὐρυκράτεος τοῦ Πολυδώρου τοῦ Ἀλκαμένεος τοῦ Τηλέκλου τοῦ Ἀρχέλεω τοῦ Ἡγησίλεω τοῦ Δορύσσου τοῦ Λεωβώτεω τοῦ Ἐχεστράτου τοῦ Ἤγιος τοῦ Εὐρυσθένεος τοῦ Ἀριστοδήμου τοῦ Ἀριστομάχου τοῦ Κλεοδαίου τοῦ Ὕλλου τοῦ Ἡρακλέος . . . This is one of the first things the spy reports to Xerxes at 7.208.1 (Λεωνίδης, ἐὼν γένος Ἡρακλείδης); it is also repeated in the Delphic oracle at 7.220.4 (ἀφ’ Ἡρακλέους). 147 Such examples (origin as ‘a remark of honour’) occur in Homer (Il. 10.68), Herodotus (3.1.4; 6.14.3; 8.90.4) and Thucydides (7.69). In Herodotus the same honour is attributed to Leotychides (8.131.2), Alexander of Macedon (8.139) and Pausanias who shared common ancestry with Leonidas (9.64.1–2). See also How and Wells 1912: 69, 223. 148 See Immerwahr 1966: 263; Boedeker 2003: 34; Pelling 2006b: 92–8 (on the Homeric characterization of Leonidas and Thermopylae). 149 See Hdt. 7.220.2: ταύτῃ καὶ μᾶλλον τὴν γνώμην πλεῖστός εἰμι, Λεωνίδην, ἐπείτε ᾔσθετο τοὺς συμμάχους ἐόντας ἀπροθύμους καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλοντας συνδιακινδυνεύειν, κελεῦσαί σφέας ἀπαλλάσσεσθαι, αὐτῷ δὲ ἀπιέναι οὐ καλῶς ἔχειν· μένοντι δὲ αὐτοῦ κλέος μέγα ἐλείπετο, καὶ ἡ Σπάρτης εὐδαιμονίη οὐκ ἐξηλείφετο. Allocation Of Speech 75 admiration and grandeur: καὶ Λεωνίδης τε ἐν τούτῳ τῷ πόνῳ πίπτει ἀνὴρ γενόμενος ἄριστος (7.224.1: “in the course of that fight Leonidas fell, having fought most gallantly”).150 These sentiments of the narrator are brought out even more through the clever link he develops between himself and Leonidas with the use of the word kleos. Kleos appears twice, in 7.220.2 and 7.220.4, and refers analeptically to the programmatic statement in Herodotus’ prologue that one of the aims of composing the Histories is so that “great and marvelous deeds— displayed by Greeks and barbarians both—may not be without their glory” (ἀκλεᾶ). In that sense, then, both Leonidas and Herodotus play similar roles: they ensure that the deeds do not fade away; Leonidas does so for Sparta, and Herodotus for Leonidas.151 None of this should be taken to say that Sparta does not have a voice in Herodotus. Leonidas’ reticence—and the absence of Spartan speech in general—is balanced by the abundant share of speech given to the Spartan Demaratus.152 Demaratus can presumably be licensed by Herodotus to speak in this way because, as an exile, he is outside the active sphere of Spartan policy and warfare. His three conversations with Xerxes (7.101–5, 209, 234–5) express in words that which remains verbally unexpressed on the Spartan side, of Spartan virtue and devotion to their master the Law. The speeches of Demaratus stand ingeniously for all the suppressed speech that could have, but has not, been given to the Spartans. At Thermopylae, Demaratus does the talking and Leonidas does the acting. Demaratus’ words thus shed a different light on the relationship between speech and action in the Histories: while using speech and action to bring the two Spartan kings into opposition, at the same time, and most importantly, Herodotus makes Spartan virtue explicit by both speech and action.153 Boedeker further draws attention to the contrast set up between Demaratus and Leonidas on the one hand, and Xerxes on the other: even if Spartan virtue is expressed in every possible way (logos and ergon), Xerxes appears to be incapable of understanding it.154

150 For Gould (1989: 62) this is “unqualified and simple admiration”. Plutarch (On the Malice of Herodotus 866a) sees this as an attempt to minimize Leonidas’ feat, and reports that the king in fact died during a night operation to kill Xerxes. 151 Cf. Munson 2001: 177; Pelling 2006b: 93. 152 It might be significant that Demaratus’ name also has to do with speaking. As Boedeker (1987: 194) observes, it represents a speech-act: the prayer of the people that Ariston might have a son (Hdt. 6.63.3). 153 Cf. Boedeker 1987: 198. 154 See Boedeker 1987: 198 (note: “Demaratus has described in words to Xerxes the nature of Spartan aretē, and Leonidas has provided proof in action, but Xerxes cannot imag- ine a system so different from his own: he discredits the one and abuses the other” [her italics]). 76 CHAPTER 1

While the Spartans express themselves laconically, the Athenians receive plenty of speeches in the text, both longer and more elaborate than the Spartan ones. The difference becomes all the more obvious when Spartans and Athenians speak in the same context. A good example of this is the answers of the Spartan and Athenian messengers to Gelon, where the Athenian speech is double the length of the Spartan (7.159, 161). The Ionians are also given speech: the Milesians Aristagoras (e.g. 5.49.2–9) and Histiaeus (5.106.3–6), and Dionysius of Phocaea (6.11.2–3) all speak, and there is also the collective speech of the Ionians against the hard training imposed on them by Dionysius of Phocaea (6.12.3). Speeches in direct discourse by almost everybody but the Spartans are clustered together, especially in the first chapters of book 9: Athenians (e.g. 9.7α.1–β.2), Thebans (9.2.2–3), the Tegean Chileus (9.9.2), Argives (9.12.3), Megarians (9.21.2), the Phocian Harmocydes (9.17.4), and a Persian at the banquet of Attaginus (9.16.2–5). The longest speech in the work is delivered by the Corinthian Socles (5.92). In a wordy context Spartan silence becomes more intense and remarkable.155 Herodotus’ allocation and management of Spartan speech accurately expresses the characterization of Spartans as men of few words who prefer eloquent deeds rather than speech. This Spartan nature, frequently and intentionally confronted with the Athenian speech-loving character, adds to and underlines the differences between Sparta and Athens, which make the alliance of the Greeks very delicate indeed. The picture of Sparta as the Greek— and, in some cases, markedly Athenian—‘other’ is significantly reinforced.156 Especially suggestive of this ‘otherness’ is the fact that the Spartans did not distinguish between non-Greeks and non-Spartan Greeks but called them all ‘strangers’ (ξεῖνοι). This sense of Sparta as an internal ‘other’ is particularly emphasized at the start of book 9, when many groups of Greeks are given speech, but not the Spartans. Relevant to the attitude of the Spartans towards speech is their attitude towards writing, where a comparable degree of aversion, and therefore a kind of ‘silence’ in terms of literacy and even literature, may be observed. The negative attitude of the Spartans towards writing is all too familiar in fifth- and fourth- century Athenian sources (in which the Spartans are commonly depicted as scorning reading, writing, and written law). If we follow Steiner’s argument that writing is linked with Eastern tyranny, then the Spartan character acquires additional significance. For by rejecting written communication Sparta further emphasizes its opposition to Persia. Besides this, the Spartan attitude marks

155 Cf. Pelling 2006c: 114. 156 On the Spartans as the Greek ‘other’, see briefly Cartledge 20022: 95–7. Allocation Of Speech 77 a strong contrast to Athenian practices. Together with its tyrannical connotations (that writing confirms power) which served well the interests of Athenian imperialism, writing was variably considered as “a defining symbol of democratic Athens, and a critical element in the growth of popular government”.157 Against an Athens which, as events unfold, increasingly resembles Persia, Herodotus sets a Sparta which is the opposite of both.158 Along these lines, Sparta is presented as the most ‘Greek’ of all states, but at the same time as the least ‘Greek’ of them all, by virtue of the barbarian Scythians’ comparable attitude towards writing.159 This connection between Spartans and Scythians, the two nations that most fervently defy the Persian invaders, may be equally seen at the level of speech: Herodotus has the Scythian Anacharsis praise the Spartans as the only Greeks to be able “to keep up a sensible conversation” (4.77.1: σωφρόνως δοῦναί τε καὶ δέξασθαι λόγον).160

1.3 Speech and Power/Authority

We have already established the close relation between speech and power. Here we will explore this link by putting authority into the mix and separating authority from power. Although authority is often treated as a synonym for power, the two are substantially different. This passage from Augustus’ Res Gestae Divi Augusti can help elucidate the distinction: “After that time I excelled all others in authority, but of power I held no more than those who were my colleagues in any magistracy” (R. Gest. div. Aug. 34).161 Here, power (potestas) entails political or social power and potentially carries a sense of irrationality and lack of moderation. Authority (auctoritas) involves qualities of a higher moral nature, like dignity and judgment, personal attributes and managerial abilities. The advantages of such a distinction in Herodotus’ text become apparent when the wider political context in Greece and Persia is taken into

157 See Steiner 1994: 185, 240 (quotation from p. 185). 158 Although not always as in Herodotus’ rich blend of narrative themes other threads link Sparta with Persia. 159 On similarities between the Scythians and Spartans in terms of their extreme attitude towards writing, see Steiner 1994: 174–85. 160 On similarities (and differences) between the Scythians and the Spartans in the Histories, see Hartog 1988: 152–6, 163–4, 169. 161 Post id tempus auctoritate omnibus praestiti, potestatis autem nihilo amplius habui quam ceteri qui mihi quoque in magistratu conlegae fuerunt. 78 CHAPTER 1 consideration. In Persia, power lies exclusively in the hands of the king. As a result, speech is a manifestation of power only for the king (viz. Xerxes) who exercises absolute control: he can speak whatever and whenever he wants, he gives or denies other people the right to speak, and his speech reaffirms his power. The ordinary citizen in Persia lacks that potential. The political significance of these aspects will be discussed in more detail in the next chapter, where we turn our attention to the dynamics of speech within a competitive context, that is, within debates. Our focus here lies with characterization. What can speech further reveal about Xerxes’ authority? The almighty king is empowered to speak but, surprisingly, does not receive any substantial speech and is deprived of moral and intellectual authority. Even people whose authority is recognized by the king himself, like Artabanus, Artemisia and Demaratus, do not have the power to influence the king and find it difficult to speak the truth to someone who is in power.162 In Greece, on the other hand, a citizen is someone who speaks with power and can influence the final decision. In the Histories, the relation of speech to power is evidently defined differently in the Greek and barbarian constitutional context. However, the authority of individuals in both Greece and Persia is the result of Herodotus’ decisions, and it depends on his generosity and narrative purposes when giving them speech. Herodotus uses direct or indirect speech modes, and compresses or omits speech to regulate the authority of his characters. As Lang usefully observes:

The distinction between direct and indirect quotation may convey not only the relative importance and unimportance of what is said but also the relative importance and individuality of the person(s) speaking. Thus anonymous persons like heralds and ambassadors as well as undifferenti- ated groups are often quoted indirectly; strong personalities, on the other hand, are both reflected and exemplified in direct quotation.163

One important use of indirect discourse is to minimize the focus of the audience on any one specific speaker, the audience thus being led to dismiss the person as unimportant if he/she is not rhetorically adept. In particular, the omission of direct discourse might indicate oratorical deficiency, which more likely implies strategic deficiency, and may even reduce the ethos, that is the moral qualities, of the individuals—provided, of course, that the

162 On the tricky relationship between truth and power in a barbarian context, see Cartledge and Greenwood 2002; Payen 1997. 163 See Lang 1984: 148. Cf. for Roman historiography Scott 1998: 9–11; Miller 1975. Allocation Of Speech 79 historian sets up the context to create this result. This line of interpretation, applied to the context of Greek inter- and intra-city relationships, can yield fruitful results as an additional marker of fragmenting tendencies within the Greek alliance: the authority of certain Greeks is played up or down and they are set in opposition to other Greeks or all the rest of the Greeks. This is discussed in section 1.3.1, where the allocation of speech to Themistocles is compared with that to other Greek generals. Section 1.3.2 focuses on Xerxes, whose authority is shown to be limited; hereby Herodotus is seen to extend the effects of the speech-authority pair to highlight the self-other distinction.

1.3.1 Themistocles and Other Greek Generals Herodotus binds speech with authority and allots specific speech modes to particular individuals while depriving others of speech to elucidate the fragility of Greek unity and the active role that certain individuals played in saving the Greek cause in the midst of disagreement, miscommunication and factionality. As will be shown at length in the next chapter, Themistocles emerges as the arch-operator of Greek unity in Salamis: he manages to keep the Greeks together and this results in a memorable victory over the Persians. Themistocles’ key role and brilliance are carefully set up by means of speech allocation. Herodotus keeps Themistocles silent until his master rhetorical performance at Salamis.164 Although we learn from Plutarch that Themistocles was strategos of the Leontis tribe at Marathon (Arist. 5), Herodotus does not introduce him before book 7. There Themistocles helps the Athenians to interpret the Delphic oracle and is only given indirect speech (and rsa) (7.143), while a flashback in rsa informs us about his previous beneficial advice to the Athenians (7.144). Still, in these two cases Herodotus accomplishes what we may call, with Pitcher, a kind of ‘structural characterization’, effected through juxtaposition—a tactic common when an individual is first introduced into the narrative and the author attempts to characterize him by making his traits stand out by contrast with those of everyone else.165 In the first incident, Themistocles’ interpretation of the oracle of the ‘wooden wall’, which prevails and proves salutary for the Athenians, is contrasted to that of the offi- cial interpreters. In the second incident, Themistocles’ idea to construct ships with the money from the mines, which dominates and is proved wise once

164 See below, ch. 2. 165 On juxtaposition as one of the ways the structure of the narrative can reveal characterization, see Pitcher 2007: 112–14. 80 CHAPTER 1 more, is placed in opposition to the Athenian decision to divide the money among themselves. Themistocles is also the Athenian general at Tempe and travels back with the Greeks at the Isthmus, where they have a debate. The conference is, however, described in indirect speech (rsa); the content is given in compact narrative form and no individual opinions are recorded (7.175.1).166 At Artemisium, Themistocles is allocated only one sentence of direct discourse (8.5.2)167 and some indirect speech (8.19). The first longer and substantial piece of speech comes in the form of a message (a kind of direct discourse)168 to the Ionians, carved on the rocks of Euboea (8.22.1–2). In the first Greek debate before Salamis, Themistocles is not mentioned at all (8.49, 56). Only when Mnesiphilus advises Themistocles against the generals’ decision to fight the Persians at the Isthmus and suggests Salamis instead (8.57.2), does Themistocles intervene decisively and is then allowed to speak at length in direct discourse (8.59–62). Herodotus cleverly arouses the expectations of the audience by providing ample information about Themistocles’ rhetorical and advisory skills, but withholds Themistocles’ speech until the most climactic point. Up to this moment, Themistocles does not even give an answer to Mnesiphilus, despite taking his advice, and Herodotus draws attention to his silence: οὐδὲν πρὸς ταῦτα ἀμειψάμενος (8.58.1). This makes for a particularly interesting case of silence which is far more complicated than it appears in terms of narrative function. Themistocles’ silence has a major dramatic effect because the scene is structured like a dialogue between Themistocles and Mnesiphilus. Hence, after Mnesiphilus’ advice in direct speech (8.57.2), Themistocles’ non- reply sounds both powerful and strange.169

166 οἱ δὲ Ἕλληνες ἐπείτε ἀπίκατο ἐς τὸν Ἰσθμόν, ἐβουλεύοντο πρὸς τὰ λεχθέντα ἐξ Ἀλεξάνδρου τῇ τε στήσονται τὸν πόλεμον καὶ ἐν οἵοισι χώροισι. ἡ νικῶσα δὲ γνώμη ἐγίνετο τὴν ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι ἐσβολὴν φυλάξαι· στεινοτέρη γὰρ ἐφαίνετο ἐοῦσα τῆς ἐς Θεσσαλίην καὶ μία ἀγχοτέρη τε τῆς ἑωυτῶν. 167 See Hdt. 8.5.2: οὐ σύ γε ἡμέας ἀπολείψεις, ἐπεί τοι ἐγὼ μέζω δῶρα δώσω ἢ βασιλεὺς ἄν τοι ὁ Μήδων πέμψειε ἀπολιπόντι τοὺς συμμάχους “You will not be leaving us, because I will give you greater gifts than the Persian king would send you if you deserted your allies”. 168 See Bowie (2007: 113): “Though these words are supposedly inscribed, they take the form of a speech”. 169 Alan Griffiths suggests to me that one interpretation would be to explain Themistocles’ silence in the context of Mnesiphilus qua a dream which has evaporated. Such a reading can be corroborated by the scene recalling structurally the dream of Agamemnon, of Nestor sent by Zeus, at the beginning of Iliad 2: meeting—commander receives advice at Allocation Of Speech 81

Herodotus similarly denies Themistocles a long and elaborate hortatory speech before the battle at Salamis (8.83).170 He gives a compressed version of the speech in indirect discourse (rsa) supported by narrative comments:

τοῖσι δὲ Ἕλλησι ὡς πιστὰ δὴ τὰ λεγόμενα ἦν τῶν Τηνίων [ῥήματα], παρεσκευάζοντο ὡς ναυμαχήσοντες. ἠώς τε διέφαινε καὶ οἳ σύλλογον τῶν ἐπιβατέων ποιησάμενοι, προηγόρευε εὖ ἔχοντα μὲν ἐκ πάντων Θεμιστοκλέης.171 τὰ δὲ ἔπεα ἦν πάντα <τὰ> κρέσσω τοῖσι ἥσσοσι ἀντιτιθέμενα, ὅσα δὴ ἐν ἀνθρώπου φύσι καὶ καταστάσι ἐγγίνεται· παραινέσας δὲ τούτων τὰ κρέσσω αἱρέεσθαι καὶ καταπλέξας τὴν ῥῆσιν, ἐσβαίνειν ἐκέλευσε ἐς τὰς νέας. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐσέβαινον . . . (8.83).

When they found the words of the Tenians worthy of belief, the Greeks prepared to fight at sea. At daybreak they held an assembly of the fighting men and Themistocles alone of them all foretold victory. He spent the whole of his speech contrasting all the better and the worse aspects of human nature and condition, and encouraging the men to choose the better course; he ended by sending them off to their ships. And the men were going aboard . . .

This summary explains Herodotus’ choice to single out and record Themis- tocles’ speech, however briefly. Yet the same narrative makes us wonder at the omission of this most successful speech. Herodotus could have developed especially the antitheses used by Themistocles—one of the most fashionable

night—second meeting to change policy. As far-fetched as I think this possibility seems, it still sounds attractive. 170 For an extended discussion which addresses diverse aspects of this speech, including narrative pace and characterization, see Zali 2013. 171 For an overview of the differing translations of the phrase προηγόρευε εὖ ἔχοντα μὲν ἐκ πάντων Θεμιστοκλέης, see Graham (1996), who suggests the version “Themistocles alone of them all foretold victory”. Bowie’s (2007: 173) most recent commentary on Herodotus’ book 8 follows Graham in translating εὖ ἔχοντα as ‘good fortune/victory’. Alternative translations include Godley (1946): “Themistocles made a harangue in which he excelled all others”; de Sélincourt (2003): “Themistocles gave the finest speech there”; Waterfield (1998): “Themistocles put things better than anyone else”; and Strassler (2008): “of all the commanders, Themistocles issued the most effective orders”. I consider all translations equally valid but for the purposes of the present section I adopt Graham’s translation and take the phrase to mean “Themistocles alone of them all foretold victory”. For a different reading of the speech in terms of its employing traditional hortatory motifs, see below, pp. 251–3. 82 CHAPTER 1 contemporary rhetorical trends—172to demonstrate once again Themistocles’ exceptional rhetorical skills. Acceleration of the narrative pace is an important reason for the omission, since the battle narrative has already been delayed due to the repeated and protracted meetings of the Greeks which have also increased the suspense for the reader.173 It is finally time for some action, and now the focus turns fully to the battle: another long piece of rhetoric at this point would be wearisome. Common harangue antitheses and similar hortatory topoi recur in the Histories, but the historian manipulates their use. Hortatory motifs have been employed earlier and will be employed later in the work in rhetorical pieces of direct discourse:174 Dionysius of Phocaea (6.11.2–3), Miltiades (6.109.3–6), Xerxes (7.53), Harmocydes (9.17.4), even the Tegeans and Athenians in their dispute before the battle of Plataea (9.26–7), all make use of hortatory topoi.175 Another direct speech displaying comparable arguments in a narrative already loaded with speeches would not serve the narrative economy and would sound overwhelmingly repetitive rather than luring readers into reading further. Moreover, Themistocles has already given an old-fashioned speech where it would be most effective. He addresses it to Eurybiades in the council of the Greek generals, trying to persuade him of the suitability of Salamis for a naval battle against the Persians (8.60α–γ).176 Themistocles’ rhetorical skills have been fully demonstrated at Artemisium and especially before the battle at Salamis.177 However, even in this case of compressed exhortation, Herodotus provides us with hints which focus attention on Themistocles’ ability to use diplomatic spin and to manipulate his audience. First, other generals gave pep talks too, but Herodotus, in a very selective manner, singles out Themistocles’ speech from the rest for including an argument which the other speeches did not: the prediction of victory (8.83.1: προηγόρευε εὖ ἔχοντα μὲν ἐκ πάντων Θεμιστοκλέης). The mention of victory is a clever rhetorical choice as it can significantly contribute to encouraging the soldiers faced with such a formidable and numerically superior opponent. Themistocles is clearly able to choose the argument which is more likely to have the greater impact upon the particular audience. And even if we take the arguably hazy phrase εὖ ἔχοντα only to mean ‘the best/finest speech’ or something along these

172 See above, pp. 25–6. 173 See above, pp. 49–50. 174 Cf. Waters 1985: 10. 175 On all these speeches, see ch. 4. 176 On the combined form of this speech (deliberative and epideictic), see below, pp. 255–6. 177 See below, ch. 2. Allocation Of Speech 83 lines178 or if we accept Macan’s suggestion that ἐκ πάντων might signify that Themistocles “was chosen or allowed to speak out of and on behalf of all”,179 this does not change the fact that Themistocles’ speech is singled out in the narrative. Next, Themistocles’ use of antithetical arguments further highlights his oratorical skills. Finally, the repetition of ἐσβαίνω (8.83.2: ἐσβαίνειν ἐκέλευσε ἐς τὰς νέας. καὶ οὗτοι μὲν δὴ ἐσέβαινον) may be taken to emphasize Themistocles’ ability to persuade: as soon as he orders the men to embark on the ships they obey him. Herodotus does not let anything intervene between Themistocles exhorting the men to board the ships and them doing so. Oratorical skills aside, there is another way in which the speech may feed into the Herodotean picture of Themistocles. Not allowing Themistocles a longer speech might imply a tacit judgment on his character: while Herodotus recognizes and emphasizes that Themistocles is a successful orator and an insightful general, he cannot picture him as a great patriot and hence as the right person to encourage the troops. Themistocles is evidently responsible for maintaining the unity of the Greeks and putting an end to repetitive and protracted discussions which lead nowhere. But in doing so, he overrules free debate. He even communicates with the Persians repeatedly. ‘Silencing’ Themistocles on this occasion brings out his attitude and backstage manoeu- vers at Salamis all the more, and provides a more dramatic result. The omission of Themistocles’ speech at Andros has a similar effect (8.108.2): when we think that all is settled and the view of the majority has won, Themistocles strikes again and receives speech operating outside the context of the debate, as he deceives the Athenians with a masterful piece of rhetoric (8.109.2–4). The manipulation of silence and speech modes as well as his late introduction into the narrative single Themistocles out from all the other Greeks and highlight his authority and importance. These elements are emphasized by the contrast developed between Themistocles and other Greek generals, whose speech is carefully controlled, thereby minimizing their authority. The Corinthian general Adeimantus only plays a minor narrative role and exchanges a few insulting words with Themistocles in direct and indirect discourse at Salamis (8.59, 61). There is more to say about Eurybiades. Herodotus never allows him direct discourse. His speech is always suppressed and most often compressed into a short expression in indirect discourse.180 Eurybiades is presented as chairing meetings and staying in the background. The construction

178 On the different interpretations, see above, p. 81 n. 171. 179 See Macan 1908b: 487. Cf. Powell’s (1949) translation, “Themistocles was chosen to pro- nounce the exhortation”. 180 See Hdt. 8.49.1, 59, 63. 84 CHAPTER 1 of the long debate at Salamis (8.59–63) makes it obvious that Themistocles is behind the success of the Greeks. When Themistocles persuades Eurybiades to convene another meeting of the generals to review the decision to fight at the Isthmus, Eurybiades does not even get a chance to talk and explain to the Greek generals the reasons why he gathered them as Themistocles bursts into speech (8.59). Eurybiades is allocated extensive speech only once, in the conference of the Greeks at Andros, where he opposes Themistocles voting against the pursuit of the Persian fleet (8.108). This speech is quoted in indirect discourse, which is then said to represent the opinion of the rest of the Peloponnesian generals (8.108.4). The expression of a collective view may explain the elaboration here at the expense of Themistocles’ opinion, which is merely given in one sentence of reported speech.181 Herodotus seems to seek to justify his decision to record Eurybiades’ opinion in its full extent.182 Sparta and Corinth are drawn in but are sidelined by the authority of Athens as represented by Themistocles. Themistocles’ major authority is in contrast with the minor authority of Eurybiades and Adeimantus, and feeds into the tension between the Greek cities. But there is tension within Greek cities too—notably Athens—as demonstrated by the introduction of another Greek general, the Athenian Aristeides. In Plutarch’s Aristeides, Aristeides is one of the ten generals at Marathon (Arist. 5: strategos of the Antiochis tribe), and he is also the one responsible for the Athenian reply to Mardonius’ offer of subjection and to the Spartan plea not to submit to the Persians (Arist. 10), (Herodotus relates the Athenian reply in 8.143–4).183 Herodotus reports neither of these pieces of information. In the Histories, Aristeides features only briefly at Salamis (8.79–81, 95) and is mentioned as the Athenian general at the

181 See Hdt. 8.108.2: Θεμιστοκλέης μέν νυν γνώμην ἀπεδείκνυτο διὰ νήσων τραπομένους καὶ ἐπιδιώξαντας τὰς νέας πλέειν ἰθέως ἐπὶ τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον λύσοντας τὰς γεφύρας. 182 For a different approach, see Bowie (2007: 197): “Eurybiades is finally given a more prominent role than heretofore: we finally hear his views at some length. His speech is, however, given only indirectly. This allows an important tactical moment to be marked by speech, but not in such a way that it has the prominence of the earlier, even more crucial debates, whose importance direct speech characterised”. 183 Macan (1908b: 589) is sceptical, but still describes Plutarch’s attribution of the speech to Aristeides as ‘ben trovato’. He further comments on Themistocles’ silence at Hdt. 8.143–4: “He is, indeed, conspicuous by his absence on this occasion”. See also Bowie (2007: 235): “This reply was given by Aristeides according to Plut. Arist. 10.3–6. By giving it to the Athenians, H. [i.e. Herodotus] is able to keep the focus on their behaviour as a nation”. On such a crucial occasion it is also likely that Herodotus prefers to ascribe the speech to the Athenian collectivity in order not to be accused of partiality in favour of Themistocles or indeed Aristeides. Allocation Of Speech 85 battle of Plataea (9.28.6). The only time Herodotus allocates speech to him is just before the battle at Salamis, when Aristeides comes to the meeting of the Greek generals and, ironically, informs Themistocles about the Greek blockade by the Persians (8.79.3–4). Silencing Aristeides in all the other contexts enables Herodotus to attempt a most powerful characterization at the point where it has the greatest effect: at Salamis against his major political opponent, Themistocles. In a battle account where disunity dominates and is the main obstacle to an efficient discussion and to reaching a final decision, Aristeides’ speech is emphasized as one major attempt at reconciliation. His willingness to put aside personal differences (8.79.3: “we can fight some other time over who of us has benefited his country more”)184 makes a stark contrast to Themistocles, who is pictured as thinking always of the personal even when he thinks of the national interest, and always looking to his own future prospects. The speech confirms the authorial comments which precede it and which focus precisely on the hostility between Aristeides and Themistocles, and ‘the best and the most just’ nature of Aristeides.185 As with Themistocles earlier, here too we have a case of ‘structural characterization’ via juxtaposition. Aristeides’ speech is also important in that it adds to the dramatization of the scene. He comes in like the tragic messenger to let the characters know what is going on off-stage. That he first addresses Themistocles, the person who has engineered the blockade of the Greeks, gives a nice twist to the tragic motif. Herodotus here aims at a double effect: not only does Aristeides let Themistocles know that his stratagem is successful, he also becomes Themistocles’ mouthpiece when he takes up the role of informing the Greek generals (in indirect speech) about the cutting off of the Greeks (8.81). Introducing Aristeides quite late in the narrative and repressing his speech serves to bring out Themistocles’ authority even more. But the single direct

184 ἡμέας στασιάζειν χρεόν ἐστι ἔν τε τῷ ἄλλῳ καιρῷ καὶ δὴ καὶ ἐν τῷδε περὶ τοῦ ὁκότερος ἡμέων πλέω ἀγαθὰ τὴν πατρίδα ἐργάσεται. 185 See Hdt. 8.79.1–2: “While the commanders were locked in argument a man called Aristeides the son of Lysimachus crossed over to Salamis from Aegina. Aristeides was an Athenian who had been ostracized by the democratic government. In my considered opinion, from all I hear about his character, he was the best and most just man in Athens (ἄριστον ἄνδρα γενέσθαι ἐν Ἀθήνῃσι καὶ δικαιότατον). He presented himself at the meeting and asked Themistocles to come outside with him. Now, he was no friend of Themistocles, in fact they were bitter enemies (ἐόντα μὲν ἑωυτῷ οὐ φίλον, ἐχθρὸν δὲ τὰ μάλιστα), but the scale of the trouble facing Athens at the time made him overlook this (ὑπὸ δὲ μεγάθεος τῶν παρεόντων κακῶν λήθην ἐκείνων ποιεύμενος). So he asked Themistocles to leave the meeting because he wanted to have a word with him”. 86 CHAPTER 1 speech Aristeides is given sufficiently plays up his own authority as well. Intra- city feuds come to the surface once again only to be shoved aside by Aristeides’ high-minded nature.186 An equally interesting interplay regarding the creation of authority through speech is present in the Marathon narrative. Here the treatment of Callimachus vs. Miltiades resembles that of Eurybiades vs. Themistocles.187 Just as Eurybiades is sidelined by Themistocles, Callimachus is pushed aside by Miltiades and receives no speech.188 Although his opinion decides whether a battle will take place, Herodotus does not even spare Callimachus one word. He only makes a generous comment on his glorious death (6.114: καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἐν τούτῳ τῷ πόνῳ ὁ πολέμαρχος [Καλλίμαχος] διαφθείρεται, ἀνὴρ γενόμενος ἀγαθός). Miltiades, on the other hand, gets all the credit as he convinces Callimachus to vote for fighting at Marathon with his long direct speech (6.109.3–6). With no other Athenian general given any speech in the text, the focus falls exclusively on Miltiades and his rhetoric. Moreover, the fact that elsewhere in the Histories Miltiades is only allocated indirect discourse189 lays additional weight on this single utterance of direct speech. The parallels between the speeches of Themistocles to Eurybiades (8.60α–γ) and Miltiades to Callimachus (6.109.3–6)190 are an additional indication of the similar treatment of the individuals. The authority of the leading commander is thus undermined, for in general major figures are not silenced without special reasons.

186 Cf. Bowie (2007: 168): (commenting on 8.78–82) “As often in H. [i.e. Herodotus], direct speech is used for the crucial news, conveyed in the private discussion between Themistocles and Aristeides (79–80), while Aristeides’ speech to the council is in indirect speech; the focus remains on the main characters and their relationships”. These relationships are reflected in the wider issue of Greek discord. 187 Cf. Evans’ (1991: 77) description of both Eurybiades and Callimachus as ‘faceless’. 188 Cf. Evans (1991: 79): “Herodotus leaves little doubt that Themistocles was the architect of victory at Salamis quite as much as Miltiades was at Marathon”. See also Waters 1985: 10; on p. 10 n. 18 he also points out the resemblance between the position of Miltiades at Marathon and that of Themistocles at Salamis: they both have the role of the “deviser of the strategy and tactics but not the commander-in-chief. In both cases tradition gave the junior commander the credit—possibly owing to rivalries between cities or factions”. 189 See Hdt. 4.137.1; 6.132–3, 140.1. 190 On the parallels in points of introduction, exhortation topoi, argumentation structure and emotive language, see Hohti 1976: 65; Lang 1984: 57–8; Scott 2005: 382. Macan (1908b: 447) argues that Themistocles’ speech is the pattern for Miltiades’ speech. But the opposite is equally plausible. Allocation Of Speech 87

The influence of Herodotus’ sources is obviously pertinent here. The com- mendation of Miltiades may mirror Philaid sources191 in the same way that the overshadowing of Eurybiades by Themistocles may reflect Athenian sources. Alternatively, the handling of the generals may indicate Herodotus’ partisanship or, more specifically, pro-Athenian attitude. Herodotus could have just as easily made the speeches up. It is worth contemplating different reasons that might have had an impact on the construction of Herodotean narrative—for one thing, this brings out the multiplicity of meanings that underlie the work. Nevertheless, as already stated in both the Introduction and the introductory section to this chapter, our concern here is primarily with narrative strategies rather than aspects of bias and historical reliability. In this respect, Herodotus ingeniously interchanges speech modes and employs indirect discourse to increase or decrease the authority of his characters in order to bring to the fore the differences between the Greeks and focus on the role of those who contributed, in one way or another, to some sense of unity and pushed for the right strategy.

1.3.2 Xerxes Xerxes is the character that best exemplifies the tension between power and authority through his speeches. Being the king of the Persians, Xerxes possesses total power—the acquisition and preservation of which, however, appear quite problematic. Moreover, the allocation of speech to Xerxes implies his restricted authority. The suppression of speech is only one way in which Herodotus mini- mizes Xerxes’ authority; another significant way is in the allocation of both non-substantial and rather repetitive speech. In his handling of Xerxes’ speech, Herodotus explores the relationship between power and authority in a monarchical context where the one who holds the power lacks the corresponding authority. This gives rise to further questions about the nature, advantages, and disadvantages of monarchy in such a tightly controlled system where it is not possible to guarantee that the best and most competent individual will hold the power. The next chapter will look more closely at such matters. Xerxes is presented as the last of a line of Eastern monarchs who demonstrate excessive arrogance, yearn for power and expansion, and transgress boundaries. The story of Xerxes serves the needs of the narrative, the pattern of rise and fall. His expedition against Greece completes the circle that started with Croesus; it is an utter defeat seen as the climactic example of imperialism. But Xerxes’ depiction is not without nuance. Not only is his power contested,

191 Cf. below, p. 267 n. 118. 88 CHAPTER 1 but the decision to attack Greece is itself the result of a range of factors, rather than simply Xerxes’ desire.192 Xerxes’ power already appears vulnerable when he actively enters the narrative for the first time in book 7. When Darius, before setting out for a campaign against Egypt and Athens, seeks to appoint a successor, a dispute breaks out between Artobazanes, Darius’ eldest son from his first wife whom he had before he became a king, and Xerxes, the eldest son from the second wife whom he had when he was already a king (7.2). Xerxes has to fight to win the throne, and he manages to do so with a little aid from Demaratus but mainly on account of the immense power of his mother Atossa.193 Even the dream scene identifies power as one of the problems associated with Xerxes: when Xerxes changes his mind about attacking Greece, an apparition comes to him in a dream for the second time with the message that if he does not fulfil the campaign he will lose his power just as quickly as he acquired it (7.14). External help enables Xerxes’ ascendancy to the throne and external factors (both human and divine) play an influential role in his undertaking of the Greek campaign. Herodotus clearly states that Xerxes was very reluctant to attack Greece at the beginning but was incited, and eventually convinced to do so, by Mardonius; Xerxes is also prompted by the Peisistratids and the oracles of their soothsayer Onomacritus, by the Aleuadae, and by the dream (7.5–6, 12–18). In his direct speeches which open and close the Persian debate over the Greek expedition in book 7, Xerxes adds one more reason: the need to prove himself worthy of his predecessors.194 This brings out all the more

192 On the complex depiction of Xerxes in the Histories, see Gruen 2011a: 35–7 (as both con- forming to tyrannical stereotypes and undermining the Greco-Persian polarity); Flower 2006: 282–3; Bowie 2007: 8–11. See also esp. Bowie (2007: 10–11) on the narrative of books 7 and 8: “All this does not suggest an unthinking act of aggrandisement by a greedy and hybristic tyrant . . . The elements of earlier episodes reappear: divine compulsion and the demands of the Persian court constrain the King, who operates under a mixture of license and compulsion. One must beware therefore of accepting uncritically the prevalent Greek view of Xerxes as a man of hybris and unwisdom, unwilling to listen to good advice and marked down by fate for a bad end. Herodotus’ narrative helped to create, but also offers the means to qualify, traditional western conceptions both of Xerxes and of the East”. On the representation of Xerxes as a blend of (primarily Greek) sources and the author’s conscious narrative design, see Sancisi-Weerdenburg 2002. 193 See Hdt. 7.3.4: χρησαμένου δὲ Ξέρξεω τῇ Δημαρήτου ὑποθήκῃ γνοὺς ὁ Δαρεῖος ὡς λέγοι δίκαια βασιλέα μιν ἀπέδεξε. δοκέειν δέ μοι, καὶ ἄνευ ταύτης τῆς ὑποθήκης ἐβασίλευσε ἂν Ξέρξης· ἡ γὰρ Ἄτοσσα εἶχε τὸ πᾶν κράτος. 194 See Hdt. 7.8α.1–2: τὰ μέν νυν Κῦρός τε καὶ Καμβύσης πατήρ τε <ὁ> ἐμὸς Δαρεῖος κατεργάσαντο καὶ προσεκτήσαντο ἔθνεα, ἐπισταμένοισι εὖ οὐκ ἄν τις λέγοι. ἐγὼ δὲ ἐπείτε παρέλαβον τὸν Allocation Of Speech 89 emphatically Xerxes’ need to establish his power—a fact of which he seems to be fully aware.195 The narrative has prepared us for his insistence on his glorious ancestry when we are told that in his quarrel with his half-brother Artobazanes over the Persian throne Xerxes played the Cyrus card: he argued that Atossa, his mother, was the daughter of Cyrus, who had given the Persians their independence (7.2.3). It is against this backdrop that we must read Herodotus’ allocation of speech to Xerxes. Xerxes is not commonly allowed to use substantial direct speech, but his words and thoughts are usually given compressed in indirect discourse (or rsa). Xerxes’ direct discourse largely repeats arguments put forward to him by others or gives a sense of arrogance, even madness. The Great King is generally presented as calling for the advice of others (Artabanus, Demaratus, Artemisia, Mardonius), even when he has his mind already made up. As a result of this, debates take place in Persia relatively often, and a certain openness and perhaps a concomitant sense of responsibility is in the air in Xerxes’ requests for consultation—the dynamics of Persian debate are treated in chapter 2. Xerxes’ authority is compromised by his performance in these debates, as he seems to be dependent on others’ advice and never sets out a plan of his own in detail, but chooses between opinions laid in front of him instead.196 In his first long speech in oratio recta (7.8), Xerxes more or less repeats Mardonius’ arguments, with some extra elaboration. He makes Mardonius’ idea about an expedition against Greece his own (7.8α.2: φροντίζων δὲ εὑρίσκω), and talks about the fertility of Europe and getting revenge on the Athenians.197

θρόνον τοῦτον, ἐφρόντιζον ὅκως μὴ λείψομαι τῶν πρότερον γενομένων ἐν τιμῇ τῇδε μηδὲ ἐλάσσω προσκτήσομαι δύναμιν Πέρσῃσι; 7.11.2: μὴ γὰρ εἴην ἐκ Δαρείου τοῦ Ὑστάσπεος τοῦ Ἀρσάμεος τοῦ Ἀριαράμνεω τοῦ Τεΐσπεος τοῦ Κύρου τοῦ Καμβύσεω τοῦ Τεΐσπεος τοῦ Ἀχαιμένεος γεγονώς, μὴ τιμωρησάμενος Ἀθηναίους, . . . Cf. the flamboyant genealogy Xerxes provides for himself at 7.11.2 with the genealogies of Leonidas (7.204), Leotychides (8.131.2), Alexander of Macedon (8.139) and Pausanias (9.64.1–2) provided by the author. 195 Bowie (2007: 9) also rightly points out that Xerxes “must satisfy the Persian nobility who look to him for their own continued wealth and power, and he must cement his own position by increasing the Persian dominions and their tribute”. Cf. Flower 2006: 277. 196 Cf. Waters (1971: 79): “What is conspicuous by its absence however is the σοφίη which kings and tyrants tend to display. Xerxes’ difficulties are solved by an Ephialtes or an Artemisia, not his own wisdom, in which respect he differs from other monarchs”; Comparini 1971: 171–3. 197 See Hdt. 7.8α.2: χώρην . . . παμφορωτέρην (Xerxes) ≈ 7.5.3: ἡ Εὐρώπη περικαλλὴς [εἴη] χώρη, καὶ δένδρεα παντοῖα φέρει τὰ ἥμερα, ἀρετήν τε ἄκρη (Mardonius); 7.8β.1–3: . . . ἵνα Ἀθηναίους τιμωρήσωμαι ὅσα δὴ πεποιήκασι Πέρσας τε καὶ πατέρα τὸν ἐμόν . . . πρῶτα μὲν ἐς Σάρδις ἐλθόντες ἅμα Ἀρισταγόρῃ τῷ Μιλησίῳ, δούλῳ δὲ ἡμετέρῳ, [ἀπικόμενοι] ἐνέπρησαν τά τε ἄλσεα 90 CHAPTER 1

Another direct speech of Xerxes at the end of the Persian council scene also dwells on the revenge against the Athenians (7.11). In his conversation with Artabanus at Abydos where he inspects the army, Xerxes’ words about acting and taking risks once again echo Mardonius’.198 Furthermore, Xerxes’ plan to bridge the Hellespont (7.8β.1) is not his own but has already been foreseen by Onomacritus.199 We will see in chapter 4 that even Xerxes’ pep talk to the Persians before they cross the Hellespont at 7.53 (in direct discourse) contains common exhortation topoi and picks up some of the points made already in his speech at 7.8.200 In the Salamis account we mainly get Xerxes’ reactions to what he hears in reported speech,201 while his direct speech at 8.101.2–4 (κελεύει με Μαρδόνιος . . . ) serves to let Artemisia know about Mardonius’ counsel and is therefore a summary of Mardonius’ immediately preceding speech (8.100.2–5).202 Xerxes’ exchanges with Ephialtes at Thermopylae are also withheld (7.213.1, 215). The conversations between Xerxes and Demaratus in the Thermopylae narrative are a further example of the suppressed speech of the Great King (7.101–5, 234–7). At first, with utterances in oratio recta which are nothing more than empty boasts of Persian supremacy, Xerxes invites Demaratus to a discussion about the likelihood of Greek resistance (7.101, 103). At the end of

καὶ τὰ ἱρά· δεύτερα δὲ ἡμέας οἷα ἔρξαν ἐς τὴν σφετέρην ἀποβάντας, ὅτε Δᾶτίς τε καὶ Ἀρταφρένης ἐστρατήγεον, [τὰ] ἐπίστασθέ κου πάντες (Xerxes) ≈ 7.5.2: δέσποτα, οὐκ οἰκός ἐστι Ἀθηναίους ἐργασαμένους πολλὰ δὴ κακὰ Πέρσας μὴ οὐ δοῦναι δίκας τῶν ἐποίησαν (Mardonius). 198 See Hdt. 7.50.2: τοῖσι τοίνυν βουλομένοισι ποιέειν ὡς τὸ ἐπίπαν φιλέει γίνεσθαι τὰ κέρδεα, τοῖσι δὲ ἐπιλεγομένοισί τε πάντα καὶ ὀκνέουσι οὐ μάλα ἐθέλει; 7.50.3: μεγάλα γὰρ πρήγματα μεγάλοισι κινδύνοισι ἐθέλει καταιρέεσθαι (Xerxes) ≈ 7.9γ: ἔστω δ᾽ ὦν μηδὲν ἀπείρητον· αὐτόματον γὰρ οὐδέν, ἀλλ᾽ ἀπὸ πείρης πάντα ἀνθρώποισι φιλέει γίνεσθαι (Mardonius). 199 See Hdt. 7.6.4: τόν τε Ἑλλήσποντον ὡς ζευχθῆναι χρεὸν εἴη ὑπ᾽ ἀνδρὸς Πέρσεω, τήν τε ἔλασιν ἐξηγεόμενος. Stahl (2012: 135–6) points to another facet of Xerxes’ repeating Mardonius’ argument—additionally highlighted when Xerxes takes on Onomacritus’ proposal: “Why would Herodotus for his readers have Xerxes himself repeat the fallacious arguments made earlier by Mardonius, if not to emphasize the flawed basis of Xerxes’ judgement when deciding for the war?” (quotation from p. 135). 200 Not discrediting the feats of their ancestors (7.8α.1–2, 53.1); displaying willingness to fight (7.8δ.1, 53.1); with the Greeks conquered, no one else will resist the Persians (7.8γ.3, 53.2). 201 See Hdt. 8.69.2: ἐπεὶ δὲ ἀνηνείχθησαν αἱ γνῶμαι ἐς Ξέρξην, κάρτα τε ἥσθη τῇ γνώμῃ τῇ Ἀρτεμισίης; 8.101.1: ταῦτα ἀκούσας Ξέρξης ὡς ἐκ κακῶν ἐχάρη τε καὶ ἥσθη; 8.103: ἥσθη τε δὴ τῇ συμβουλῇ Ξέρξης. 202 In Xerxes ‘paraphrasing’ Mardonius’ speech, Bowie (2007: 190–1) sees also a reworking of the Homeric technique of repeating a speech word for word when reporting it to a third party. Allocation Of Speech 91 the discussion, Xerxes’ reaction is given in rsa.203 In the last discussion with Demaratus, Xerxes’ direct speech is limited to a request for Demaratus’ advice concerning the Spartans (7.234.1, 234.3). There is another discussion about the Spartan nature in between (7.209–210.1), where Xerxes receives no speech. We are merely given the general gist of his sayings in one sentence of indirect speech (rsa) at the beginning204 as well as at the end of the scene.205 This final reaction of Xerxes, the fact that he is not convinced, forcefully endorses his status. The absolute power of Xerxes is evident in the brevity of this reaction, as is his rhetorical weakness and lack of authority. There is another point to be made here: if the exchanges between Xerxes and Demaratus are seen as a dramatic agon where most often the second speaker wins the case, then Xerxes’ silence is both dramatically expedient and an interesting variation of the agon model that anticipates future events. Xerxes is bound not to reply as Demaratus will prove to be right in the end and must therefore win the debate. While representing Xerxes as both an inept orator and leader, Herodotus emphasizes his ruthlessness and tendency to emotional extremes. Extensive commentary on his nonverbal behaviour compensates for his repressed and insubstantial speech. We see Xerxes having the Hellespont whipped (7.35.1–2) and then making offerings to it right before the crossing (7.54);206 cutting off the heads of the men responsible for building the bridges at the Hellespont (7.35.2–3); having Pythius’ eldest son killed when asked by Pythius to release him from army service (7.39.3); cruelly punishing Leonidas by cutting off his head and crucifying his body (7.238.1);207 cutting off the head of the captain of the ship that carries him back to Asia because he caused the deaths of so many Persians who jumped off the overloaded ship to save their king, after he honoured the same captain with a golden garland for preserving the king’s life (8.118); killing his brother Masistes and his children for the love of a woman (9.108–13).

203 See Hdt. 7.105: ὁ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἀμείψατο, Ξέρξης δὲ ἐς γέλωτά τε ἔτρεψε καὶ οὺκ ἐποιήσατο ὀργὴν οὺδεμίαν, ἀλλ’ ἠπίως αὐτὸν ἀπεπέμψατο. 204 See Hdt. 7.209.2: ἀπικόμενον δέ μιν εἰρώτα Ξέρξης ἕκαστα τούτων, ἐθέλων μαθεῖν τὸ ποιεύμενον πρὸς τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων. 205 See Hdt. 7.210.1: ταῦτα λέγων οὐκ ἔπειθε τὸν Ξέρξην. 206 Cf. Herodotus’ assessment at 7.54.3: “I cannot tell precisely whether these objects were thrown into the sea as offerings to the sun or whether he had come to regret having lashed the Hellespont and was trying to make amends by giving them as gifts to the sea”. 207 Cf. also the treatment of the bodies of Amasis by Cambyses (3.16), of Cyrus the Younger by his brother Artaxerxes (Xen. Anab. 1.10.1; 3.1.17), and of M. Crassus by Surenas (Plut. Crass. 32). 92 CHAPTER 1

Instead of, or together with, spoken reactions we are often given the emotions by which Xerxes is driven: anger, joy, delight, pleasure, and laughter.208 A whole range of narrative incidents describes Xerxes’ emotional reactions: at Abydos he calls himself happy at one point and weeps at another (7.45–46.2); he is annoyed with Artabanus when the latter tries to discourage him from attacking Greece (7.11.1), but he sends Artabanus back to Susa from the Hellespont to protect his kingdom (7.52.2); he jumps off his throne in fear for his army at Thermopylae (7.212.1);209 he mutilates Leonidas’ body because, when Leonidas was still alive, Xerxes felt greater anger against him than against anyone else (7.238.2). Xerxes himself admits his emotional nature when he tells Pythius: “Mark my words: it is through the ears you can touch a man to pleasure or rage—let the spirit which dwells there hear good things, and it will fill the body with delight; let it hear bad, and it will swell with fury” (7.39.1).210 In light of this attitude, Xerxes’ short exchanges with Pythius when he makes the latter his guest-friend (7.28–9), his moderate and intimate words about Demaratus to Achaemenes (7.237), and his generous reply to Sperthias and Bulis (7.136.2, in indirect discourse) rather reveal Xerxes’ emotional instability. Xerxes seems to be unable to keep his temper within limits and, when he spares lives, motives other than humanistic seem to be primarily at play. When the Spartans Sperthias and Bulis volunteer to go to Persia and be punished for the death of Darius’ heralds in Sparta, Xerxes, refusing to act in the abusive way

208 θυμωθείς/ἐθυμώθη (7.11.1, 39.1, 210.1, 238.2; 9.111.5); ἡσθείς (7.28.3); περιχαρής (7.37.3, 215); ἡδύ (7.101.1); ἤρεσε (7.215); γέλωτα/γελάσας (7.103.1, 105, 209.2; 8.114.2). Specifically on laughter, see further below, pp. 156–7 and n. 191. 209 Cf. Xerxes jumping off his bed when frightened by his dream (7.15.1). 210 εὖ νυν τόδ᾽ ἐξεπίστασο, ὡς ἐν τοῖσι ὠσὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων οἰκέει ὁ θυμός, ὃς χρηστὰ μὲν ἀκούσας τέρψιος ἐμπιπλέει τὸ σῶμα, ὑπεναντία δὲ τούτοισι ἀκούσας ἀνοιδέει. In a fine study of Xerxes’ ambivalent motivation in Herodotus, Baragwanath (2008: 240–88) interprets such actions as Leonidas’ and the captain’s decapitation and the Masistes story based on alternative possible motives provided by Herodotus (multiple motives which are often based on a double perspective, Greek and Persian). Her focus on alternative motivation allows Baragwanath (2008: 242–9) to also describe Xerxes as a much more reasoned individual, and with a stronger personality, who uses rhetoric to match his audience (esp. regarding his speech in the Persian council in book 7). She neatly captures Xerxes’ doubleness of motivation when stating (2008: 277): “While Herodotus may thus shy from offering a specific explanation, he equips his readers to consider the possibilities. And in this case the questions that suggest themselves to readers are couched in ‘motive’ terms, as ‘either-or’ alternatives: is one or other particular, reasonable motive at work, or is the king’s behaviour to be explained more in terms of an irrational tyrant mentality?” The approach I take here is rather complementary in that it further testifies to the suppleness of Herodotean narrative as it offers yet more ways to interpret the text. Allocation Of Speech 93 the Spartans did, does not kill them but sends them back. For all its nobility, Xerxes’ reply has a sting in the tail which betrays self-interest: “Xerxes mag- nanimously said that he would not imitate the Spartans (ὑπὸ μεγαλοφροσύνης οὐκ ἔφη ὅμοιος ἔσεσθαι Λακεδαιμονίοισι): whereas in murdering the heralds they had broken a code of practice followed by the whole of mankind, he would not behave in the very way he was criticizing them for, or release them from their guilt by killing them in return” (7.136.2). The story of the three Greek spies sent to Asia affords a similar example. Xerxes does not let them be executed by his generals but orders them to be shown the whole army and then to be sent back home (7.146–7). Xerxes himself explains his incentive: “The loss of three men would hardly have hurt his enemies, but if the spies got back to Greece, he said, the news of the immense power would in all probability make the Greeks give up their own freedom without the expedition even taking place, so that the Persians would not have to trouble themselves with undertaking a campaign” (7.147.1, in indirect speech). The importance of Xerxes’ nonverbal expressions of emotion increases as his speech is withheld. By suppressing Xerxes’ speech, Herodotus limits the king’s authority but at the same time recognizes the limited potential of speech to reveal the complex nexus between emotion, thought and action. Nonverbal communication (especially that involving mutilation of the human body and abuse of the dead), according to Lateiner, “symbolizes, for Herodotus, the inhu- manity of despots”. Lateiner views the maltreatment of rivers as the apogee of a despotic attitude for Pharaoh Pheros (2.111.2) and Xerxes, whereby “gestures record insane, or at least, sacrilegious departure from recognized nomos, for both Egyptians and Persians are marked in the Histories by their worship of water”.211 For Lateiner, laughter possesses the comparable excessive qualities of “arrogance and self-delusion” and is usually reserved for men “too blind, too self-assured and too powerful for human security”.212 Xerxes’ representation in the Histories acquires more depth if juxtaposed with that of his father Darius. Saïd is right to point out that “Darius in the Histories, far from being a wise king and the polar opposite of his son, is similar to him”.213 There are indeed parallels between Darius and Xerxes,214 reinforced by intratextual echoes between the Scythian and

211 See Lateiner 1987: 92–3 (quotations from pp. 92 and 93 respectively). 212 See Lateiner 1987: 95. 213 See Saïd 2002a: 145. 214 E.g. Darius: killing the sons of Oebazus; bridging the Danube; failure of Scythian expedition ≈ Xerxes: killing the son of Pythius; bridging the Hellespont; failure of Greek expedition. 94 CHAPTER 1

Greek campaigns.215 However, this need not imply that Darius, as depicted by Herodotus, is no different from his son. The fact that Xerxes belongs to a long line of Eastern monarchs (and Persian monarchs, starting with Cyrus), all prone to transgression and expansion, does not necessarily make him exactly the same as his predecessors. Gray,216 in her discussion of the tyrants of Corinth, has successfully shown that Herodotus uses variations in portray- ing his tyrants, and Xerxes does exhibit traits that separate him from his royal counterparts217 and especially from his father Darius. This differentiation becomes more emphatic when it comes to their use of speech. Herodotus allows Darius some important pieces of rhetoric: the definition of the good counsellor, albeit in a speech calculated to seduce Histiaeus (5.24.3–4), a statement which moralizes on the use of deceit in persuasion (3.72.4–5), the introduction of the polarity between word and deed in the work (3.72.2), and the speech in defence of monarchy that wins the day in the Constitutional Debate (3.82). Instead of repeatedly asking for counsel like his son, Darius appears quite energetic,218 possessing strong authority and equally strong rhetorical attributes. Even when he asks for advice, his reaction when he does not agree with what he hears is not as rash as Xerxes’ and he is much more capable of recognizing and receiving good advice.219 In particular, the way in which he convinces Histiaeus to come to Susa as his counsellor is a strong demonstration of his oratorical expertise. Considering Histiaeus’ fortification of Myrcinus a step towards waging war against Darius, Megabazus advises Darius to send for Histiaeus in a mild way (τρόπῳ δὲ ἠπίῳ) and keep him away from Greece (5.23.2–3). Darius follows this advice and constructs two elaborate and delicately seductive speeches which he (and his messenger) addresses to Histiaeus (5.24)—220 the narrative makes us doubt whether Xerxes, whose

215 See Hartog 1988; Rutherford (2012: 25–6) also briefly refers to some of the parallels. 216 See Gray 1996. 217 See also Waters 1985: 146–7; 1971 (on an objective stance towards tyranny on the part of Herodotus and individuality of tyrants which resists stereotyping), esp. on Xerxes pp. 65–85; Dewald 2003 (on variety within the larger depiction of the eastern despotic rule). 218 See the way he manages the whole conspiracy against the Magi and takes hold of the Persian throne (3.71–87). 219 See e.g. his reaction to Gobryas (4.131–135.1). Cf. Scardino 2007: 338–9. 220 See e.g. Hdt. 5.24.1: ἐγὼ φροντίζων εὑρίσκω ἐμοί τε καὶ τοῖσι ἐμοῖσι πρήγμασι εἶναι οὐδένα σεῦ ἄνδρα εὐνοέστερον “After thinking the matter over, I have come to the conclusion that there is no one who cares more for me and my affairs than you do”; 24.3: Ἱστιαῖε, ἐγώ σε μετεπεμψάμην τῶνδε εἵνεκεν· ἐπείτε τάχιστα ἐνόστησα ἀπὸ Σκυθέων καὶ σύ μοι ἐγένεο ἐξ ὀφθαλμῶν, οὐδέν κω ἄλλο χρῆμα οὕτω ἐν βραχέϊ ἐπεζήτησα ὡς σὲ ἰδεῖν τε καὶ ἐς λόγους μοι Allocation Of Speech 95 weapon is fear rather than diplomacy, would be as able or successful at this task. Darius is well aware of the power and dynamics of rhetoric as well as of the role of deception in persuasion.221 He employs deceit at 3.127 to punish Oroetes and even wins the throne with deception, in Herodotus’ alternative versions (3.85–7). Far from lacking the immoderate qualities that Xerxes demonstrates, albeit to a greater degree, Darius, as Gruen puts it, “hardly emerges as an admirable figure, ruthless, unprincipled, and ferociously ambitious in his imperial expansionism”.222 But when it comes to authority and personal qualities, Darius features as the foil to Xerxes’ deficient authority and weak personality. This is also evident from the fact that in contrast to Xerxes’ constant references to his ancestors Darius does not mention ancestry or tradition.223 Playing off Darius against Xerxes is a feature of Aeschylus’ Persians as well, a work which makes up a significant intertext of the Histories. Despite diversifi- cation linked to generic factors and distinct authorial purposes and ideas, both authors, to a variable degree, present Xerxes as highly emotional, hybristic, a transgressor of boundaries,224 aggressive, arrogant, impious, and irresponsible. Aeschylus’ depiction might be more monolithic, but aspects of madness (Pers. 719), strong desire (Pers. 233), and impetuosity (Pers. 754) are equally at play in Xerxes’ decision to attack Greece; his association with ‘evil’ men features here as well (Pers. 753–8; cf. Hdt. 7.13.2).225 Xerxes is contrasted to Darius in terms of nature and leadership much more sharply in the Persians (e.g. Pers. 653–7). Having the ghost of Darius criticize Xerxes is part of this strategy. Among other things, Darius blames Xerxes for his failure as he attempted to outmatch all the gods (Pers. 749), and he underscores how different Xerxes is from his predecessors and especially Darius himself (Pers. 759–86).226 The authority of Darius, augmented by his status as a ghost, is opposed to that of Xerxes, the supposed

ἀπικέσθαι “Histiaeus, the reason I sent for you is that soon after my return from Scythia, which meant that you were no longer in my sight, I very quickly found that there was nothing else I wanted so much as that you should see and talk things over with me”. 221 Cf. also Harrison (2004: 257): “Herodotus’ emphasis is on, on the one hand, the childlike and perverse devotion to truth of, say, Cambyses and Xerxes, and on the other hand on the Odyssean tricksterishness of Darius”. 222 See Gruen 2011a: 34; on the complexity of the character of Darius in Herodotus, see further pp. 21–39 (passim). 223 Cf. Immerwahr (1966: 174) who observes that Xerxes aims at equalling his ancestors, while Darius tries to be the greatest individual. 224 See e.g. Aesch. Pers. 72, 722; Hdt. 7.8β.1, 10β.1. 225 For a juxtaposition of Herodotus’ Histories and Aeschylus’ Persians, see Saïd 2002a: 137–45. 226 On the representation of Xerxes (and his being pitted against his predecessors and especially Darius) in the Persians, see Saïd 1981; Pelling 1997b: 13–15. 96 CHAPTER 1 hero of the play who only appears in the last choral ode, utterly crushed, dressed in rags and weeping over his defeat. His overly emotional nature is compatible with his excessive character as sketched by Atossa, Darius and the chorus. Likewise, as far as his speech is concerned, Xerxes indulges in lamenta- tion that is countered by Darius’ castigation and pragmatism.227 Harrison argues for a more nuanced handling of the antithesis between predecessors/father and son, suggesting that, while Aeschylus sets up an opposition, he simultaneously compromises it by embedding expansionism in Persian history in the mouth of the chorus (Pers. 93–9) and Darius (Pers. 785–6), and by mentioning Plataea and Marathon, albeit in an unobtrusive manner.228 This calls for some moderation of Saïd’s conclusion which sets the recklessness of the Aeschylean Xerxes against the imperialistic Persian nature that the Herodotean Xerxes represents.229 Aeschylus’ qualifying of the disjunction between the policies of Xerxes and those of his predecessors brings the playwright closer to Herodotus, also because it adds to the variety of factors that brought about the expedition against Greece. By withholding substantial speech from Xerxes and suppressing his words as well as his initiative, Herodotus denies Xerxes authority, but he does not deny him power. Xerxes does seem to be both dependent on people and very much at the mercy of circumstances, and the people advise him because Xerxes seems so low in spirit—in that sense he seems to have an epic foil in the Homeric Agamemnon, whose authority is equally weak, as demonstrated also by his continuously asking for advice.230 Such an interpretation robustly

227 See Aesch. Pers. 759–86: the Persians were arrogant, hence the punishment is justified. 228 See Harrison 2000b: 85–6. 229 See in particular Saïd (2002a: 145): “Viewed from this angle, the campaign of Xerxes is no longer an accident caused by the rashness of a young king, as it was in the Persians. It becomes the logical outcome of the unlimited expansionism which characterized the rulers of Asia right from the beginning. The tragedy of Xerxes has been replaced by the tragedy of Persian imperialism, which may be read as a warning addressed by Herodotus to the contemporary representatives of imperialism, that is the Athenians”. Cf. Chiasson 2003: 31–2. 230 Cf. also Montiglio (2000: 57): (on Iliad 14) “Then Agamemnon delegates speech to those who have a better judgment than his own (107), and he even conceives that the more gifted hero could be ‘a youth as well as an elder’ (108). This detail is worthy of notice because younger heroes are hardly called upon to speak. The gift of eloquence falls to the elders . . . Therefore, Agamemnon’s receptiveness to the words of a younger hero confirms his weakness as a speaker, all the more so because the one who gets up to speak and whose advice prevails (133) is indeed a iunior, Diomedes”. On Agamemnon’s vulnerable authority, see also briefly above, p. 42. Allocation Of Speech 97 corroborates the assumption that Alexander’s claim that he transmits the words of Xerxes to the Athenians at the end of book 8 is merely a trick played by Mardonius to lend authority and persuasion to the Persian peace offer.231

1.4 Greeks vs. Persians

The examination of the allocation of speech to the Greeks and Persians both sustains and undermines a clash of national characteristics. In the next chapter we will examine the inability of the Persians to enter into discussion and the defectiveness of their attempts to do so in connection with their institutions. This explains the relative absence of speeches made by Persians. Still, the allocation of speeches to both Greeks and Persians is balanced in one respect, so that in each battle account we hear not only the Greek but also the Persian side. At Thermopylae, debates are taking place among the Greeks and the Persians, with Xerxes and Demaratus exchanging extensive pieces of direct discourse. Likewise, at Salamis, next to the Greek conferences we find Xerxes receiving advice from Artemisia, and at Plataea the Tegeans and Athenians engage in argument as do Mardonius and Artabazus. Yet there is a more subtle stylistic point to add: the relatively small number of Persian debates is largely given in direct discourse—often extensive— by contrast to the Greek debates, which are given both in direct and indirect speech modes. Furthermore, Appendix 2 shows clearly that the majority of the (roughly) thirty-nine Greek debates in books 5–9 are recorded either totally or partly in indirect speech/rsa, mostly compressed. By contrast, the majority of the (roughly) sixteen Persian debates are quoted in direct speech. We may also count another four Persian debates reported in oratio recta in books 1–4: the debate summoned by Cyrus, where Croesus speaks up (1.206.3–208); the debate among the seven conspirators on the constitution of Persia (3.80–2); the debate between Darius and Coes and consequently between Darius and the Ionian tyrants (4.97.2–98); and the debate on the interpretation of the

231 See also below, ch. 3. Grethlein 2009a provides a metahistorical reading of Herodotus’ Xerxes which could potentially boost the king’s limited authority evident from his speeches. According to Grethlein, Xerxes’ activity of writing history parallels that of Herodotus. Herodotus’ allowing Xerxes to be a writer of history and thus giving him an authorial role could perhaps compensate for not allocating Xerxes substantial speech. Yet, as Grethlein observes, even Xerxes’ ability to write history is essentially flawed and this somewhat checks his authority. 98 CHAPTER 1

Scythian gifts (4.131.2–132). The effect is imposingly ironic and contributes to subverting the stereotyped polarity between Greek and barbarian debate. Moreover, Herodotus much more commonly alternates between direct and indirect speech modes when Greeks are debating. The shift of speech modes on the Greek side reflects tense clashes of opinions as well as discord, and subsequently crystallizes into the flexibility of debate in a free political context. In Greece freedom allows many different opinions which would blur the picture of the conferences and severely delay the narrative. Indirect speech allows focus on the important parts, quoted in direct speech, and the summary of a variety of opinions. Indirect speech becomes thus a more effective way to emphasize Greek disunity and multivocality. Along these lines speech allocation acquires an additional, performative dimension. A succession of variant speech modes and oratio obliqua perform political freedom and dissent within the Greek alliance. In Persia, by contrast, debate and other speech, apart from the king’s, occur only as a temporary aberration. Herodotus slows down the narrative pace in order to emphasize the importance of the circumstances, hence the need for discussion. The direct discourse and formality of the Persian debates reflect the inflexibility and strictness of Persian institutions. This is a very different sense of performativity compared with what we find in Greece. At any rate, it seems reasonable on the basis that the limits are strictly defined in the Persian court so that everybody speaks in turn and in order of rank. That not many people speak makes it easier for Herodotus to expand on individual views since everything is so clear-cut: a certain person said this and another said that. The use of direct speech to counsel a king in an indirect way so that punishment might be avoided232 is part of Herodotus’ complex play. The management and distribution of speeches to individuals and groups in the text is notably scrupulous, thereby implying a highly provocative narrative architecture. Herodotus goes to considerable pains and appears extremely selective to serve the economy of his text, to speed up or to slow down the narrative pace, to provide his Histories with vividness and dramatic qualities. More than this, we have seen that the different speech modes exemplify and buttress the Greco-Persian polarity and the problem of Greek unity. Debates compressed and suppressed, division of opinions, emphasis on certain individual views, exclusion of speeches, and Spartan silence vs. Athenian/Greek speech—all reflect the differences between the Greek cities and the difficulties the Greeks are facing in trying to work together. Controlling the authority of his characters—by using certain speech modes or opting to silence

232 On the flattery of Mardonius and the examples of Artabanus, see briefly below, pp. 152–4. Allocation Of Speech 99 individuals—is another way for Herodotus to sharpen his focus on the division among the Greeks and to highlight the parts specific Greek individuals played in the fight against the Persians. It is also another way to sharply define the differences between Greeks and Persians, in particular through carefully managing Xerxes’ speech: the authority of individuals in the Histories obviously depends on Herodotus’ choices, but it is clear that the free Greeks all have the power to speak and control decisions; by contrast, within Persian monarchy the all-powerful Xerxes, the only one able to speak what and when he wishes, lacks speech and thus authority. In terms of Greek vs. Persian speech more generally, the various speech modes embody the openness and freedom of the Greek political system, while the preference for indirect speech modes gives a sense of restricting that same freedom and openness, in contrast to the long Persian exchanges in direct discourse. The next chapter takes these structural observations further by directing our attention to the representation of Greek and Persian debate in the Histories. Silence and power have their place there too, but are seen strictly through the lens of political infrastructure.

part 2 Speech and Competition

∵

CHAPTER 2 Debates

The previous chapter delved into the ways in which speech structure glosses the weakness of the Greek confederation and the distinction between Greeks and Persians. Length of speech, distribution and non-distribution of speech to specific individuals and groups, and diverse speech modes were taken into account. Within the context of the Greco-Persian polarity, how Herodotus’ allocation of speech can affect the power and authority of individuals in different political circumstances was also explored. In this chapter, which works to strengthen earlier structural observations, the focus turns to the representation of debate in Herodotus. Speeches are viewed in a wider context of competitive discourse and the dynamics of debate come under scrutiny. Notions of silence and power are relevant here too, but their significance is assessed in purely political terms. Despite the increasing attention to Herodotean rhetoric recently, the view that the Histories contains only a small number of debates, most of which merit no particular notice, is still widespread. The relative neglect of debate is due to a range of factors. The most important reason for this is the apparently uneven comparison of Herodotus to Thucydides. For many critics, the highly stylized form of debate in Thucydides’ History, with two polarized opinions set against each other, overshadows the (seemingly) fairly simple and unembel- lished depiction of debate in Herodotus’ work. This view persists regardless of the realization that the nature of the Histories is far from uncomplicated, that Herodotus and Thucydides have so much in common, and that at places the former appears to be more sceptical than the latter. Jacoby’s1 influential division of Herodotean speeches into ‘novelistic’ in books 1–6 and ‘political- historical’ in books 7–9 is another cause. A third factor I would like to add is the use of different speech modes to report debates. Given its vitality, immediacy and dramatic attributes, direct speech naturally captures readers’ attention. Slightly diverging from Thucydides’ preference for oratio recta when it comes to formal debates, Herodotus more often than not employs indirect speech modes to narrate debates either wholly or partly—possible reasons for the choice between speech modes were considered in the previous chapter. Inadequate appreciation of the Herodotean narrative technique has therefore led to a relative disregard of the function of debate in the work.

1 See Jacoby 1913: 492.

Even in the first four books, centred on the East with its familiar speech restrictions imposed by despotic political frameworks, debates are not absent. Among other private conversations and counselling within the barbarian royal court, be it Lydian, Median or Persian, there is the debate of the Medians over ways to deal with anarchy after they freed themselves from the Assyrians (1.97.2–98.1), the debate Cyrus summons before the expedition against the Massagetae (1.206.3–208), the Constitutional Debate (3.80–2), and the debate on the interpretation of the Scythian gifts (4.131.2–132). As we gradually move to the West, the picture changes and debates multiply within a free Greek political context.2 This turn is marked by the Scythian logos, at the end of book 4, which presents us for the first time with Greeks—Ionian tyrants in particular—debating. Pelling and Barker have contributed significantly to bringing Herodotean debate into vogue. Their arguments for a sophisticated depiction of debate in the Histories have undeniably unsettled readings that privilege Thucydidean over Herodotean debate.3 Pelling4 talks about travesties of debate in Greece and Persia that challenge the Greek-barbarian polarity, looking closely at the interweaving of speech and narrative. Along slightly different lines and con- centrating on the institutional context of debate, Barker5 argues that Greek debate is a fundamentally flawed institution which very rarely produces any results, and that, by having the Persians conduct the most formal debates, Herodotus calls into question the Greco-Persian divide.6 The focus of this chapter is much sharper: it centres on how the kind of language that describes debate and the mechanics of debate sustain and problematize specifically the fragility of Greek unity and the distinction between

2 Barker (2009: 152) interestingly notes that “[i]n this way Herodotus’ narrative re-creates the impression of an early history, when key institutions such as the assembly had yet to be founded and speaking in public was the preserve of elite individuals”. Nevertheless, his claim that “[s]et-piece debates and assembly scenes, however, are almost entirely absent from the first half of Herodotus’ History” (2009: 151–2) is quite strict. We must bear in mind that debate can be defined differently and also that most Greek debates are not set-piece either. 3 See e.g. Pelling (1991: 132): “Just as so often in Thucydides, [in Herodotus] the implications of a debate are much more widespread, filling in a background which informs our view of events against a wider perspective”. 4 See Pelling 1991: 131–2; 1997a: 56–8; 2000: 10–12; 2002; 2006c. 5 See Barker 2009: 144–202. 6 Hohti’s view (1974: 20) that speech restrictions occur only in Persian context now looks out- dated and entirely out of place. Debates 105

Greeks and Persians. Based on the premise that Herodotean debate is essentially faulty, no matter the institutional framework, the present discussion sets out to offer a systematic analysis of Greek and Persian debate, and the factors that deter it and render it problematic. The discussion will reveal a stance on the part of Herodotus which is anything but simple. The more problematic the picture of debates that emerges, the more complex the two wider themes we are concerned with in this book become. A flexible definition of debate will allow us to take into consideration a greater variety of cases. I take debate to denote a formal public discussion entailing exchange of opposing opinions, between two or more interlocutors, over important issues that affect the whole community, such as matters of national strategy.7 This foregrounds the centrality of debate in Herodotus’ narrative of war and politics. This chapter, although it defines debate broadly, still recognizes its problematic nature in Persia, where debate largely takes the form of executive, more or less private, consultation. My aim is not to level the obvious differences between the Greek and Persian political systems. Instead I intend to show that debate is ineffective for Greeks and Persians not only for divergent but also for comparable reasons as, often, either of them assumes debating strategies that sit better with the habits of the other.8 As far as Greek unity goes, the stifling of freedom and free speech is a recurrent phenomenon, while behind the many dissenting Greek voices something always seems to go wrong, whether this is backstage policy or straightforward efforts to press one’s own interests. The chapter opens with some general observations on Herodotus’ stance towards Greek and Persian debate (2.1). It then turns to the use of particular vocabulary by which Greek collectivity and disunity, through dissonance and clash of opinions, are brought forward, and by which the Persian autocratic manner as well as a sense of openness are communicated (2.2). There follows a concise comparison of Herodotean, Homeric and Thucydidean debate (2.3). The chapter culminates in a series of Greek and Persian case studies (2.4).

7 A list of debates in Herodotus’ books 5–9 is given in Appendix 2. 8 See Forsdyke (2006: 234): “On the one hand, Herodotus’ narrative points to the lack of truly free and open debate in Persia; on the other hand, however, Herodotus’ account also simultaneously suggests that democratic debate in such poleis as Athens may suffer from the same dangerous tendencies as occur in the Persian debate”. 106 CHAPTER 2

2.1 General Observations

2.1.1 Greece Herodotus’ attitude towards Greek debate is essentially ambivalent. On the one hand, he censures the way in which the Greeks conduct discussions; the Histories portrays the precarious nature of freedom with a strong sense of disunity and expediency lurking behind people’s actions. On the other, Herodotus positively acknowledges the importance of debate for the common good. His stance is best illustrated by three debates in books 1, 5 and 7. In book 1, when the Spartan messenger, Lacrines, arrives to warn Cyrus not to harm any Greek city or else he would have to confront the Spartans, Herodotus has Cyrus observe in reply: “I have never yet been afraid of men who have a special meeting place in the centre of their city, where they swear this and that and cheat each other. Such people, if I have anything to do with it, will not have the troubles of Ionia to chatter about, but their own” (1.153.1).9 An authorial intervention explains the king’s remark: Cyrus criticizes here all the Greeks “because they have markets (ἀγορὰς) for buying and selling, unlike the Persians who never buy in open markets (ἀγορῇσι), and indeed have no single market-place in the whole country (οὐδέ σφι ἔστι τὸ παράπαν ἀγορή)” (1.153.2). The agora is the place where not only buying and selling but also exchange of opinions takes place in the Greek world. Cyrus’ comment may be referring, in derogatory fashion, to both Greek trading and debating practices. We almost certainly hear Herodotus talking behind Cyrus. The authorial intrusion, however, refocuses the comment on Greek and Persian ways of trade to mitigate outright criticism of Greek debate. Herodotus’ observation may equally contain a hint of criticism directed towards the Persian social institutions that reflect the lack of openness at the political level. For Kurke, the passage conveys tense social dynamics within Greek society: “The scorn expressed for what goes on in the agora corresponds to the scorn of the Greek elite, directed against professional traders”.10 If we keep Kurke’s

9 Οὐκ ἔδεισά κω ἄνδρας τοιούτους, τοῖσί ἐστι χῶρος ἐν μέσῃ τῇ πόλι ἀποδεδεγμένος ἐς τὸν συλλεγόμενοι ἀλλήλους ὀμνύντες ἐξαπατῶσι. τοῖσι, ἢν ἐγὼ ὑγιαίνω, οὐ τὰ Ἰώνων πάθεα ἔσται ἔλλεσχα ἀλλὰ τὰ οἰκήια. On Cyrus’ comment as merely regarding Greek trading practices, see Braund 1998: 174–5; Cartledge and Greenwood 2002: 365–6. For Cartledge and Greenwood the comment further defines the Greco-barbarian dichotomy from a Persian viewpoint. This may be so, but a degree of caution is recommended because, as Asheri (Asheri, Lloyd and Corcella 2007: 180) observes, barbarian communities may well have marketplaces too. 10 See Kurke 1999: 74–5. On the link between trade and deceit in this and other Herodotean passages, see Kurke 1999: 73–6. Debates 107 social tension and exchange trade for debate, then the comment might be construed as mirroring intra-city political struggles between aristocratic and democratic elements.11 One way or the other, the passage discloses an uneasy stance towards debate.12 The Theban debate at 5.79–80 emphasises the importance of open debate, though still in an ambiguous way. The Thebans send men to Delphi for consultation on how to take revenge on the Athenians. The Pythia urges them to lay the oracle before the ‘many-voiced/the many voices’ (ἐς πολύφημον) and then to ask their nearest to help them. Accordingly, the Thebans summon a public meeting. While the obvious interpretation initially leads them nowhere (“the oracle cannot mean our nearest neighbours, Tanagra, Coronea and Thespia because they have always been fighting on our side”), through open discussion they are able to make out the true significance of the oracle. In the course of the debate (τοιαῦτα ἐπιλεγομένων) a certain man comes up with the correct interpretation (“ask for the help of the Aeginetans on the basis of the mythical sisterhood of Thebes and Aegina”). His suggestion is adopted as it seems to be the best solution to the problem, and proves eventually successful. It is important that here the institution of the assembly gets divine approval, but it is equally significant that the focus on the process of debate seems to decrease as the attention is drawn to the one man who finally manages to figure out what the oracle meant. In book 7, as a result of the impending Persian attack the Athenians send to Delphi and receive a displeasing, gloomy response that predicts utter disaster. They go back to petition for a more positive divination and get a softer reply according to which a ‘wooden wall’ will save Athens (7.140–1). The envoys relay the message to the Athenian assembly (ἀπήγγελλον ἐς τὸν δῆμον), which

11 Cf. Asheri, Lloyd and Corcella (2007: 180): “The reduction of the agora from a civic institution to a centre of deception seems to be lifted from anti-democratic Greek propaganda from Theognis (53–60) to Xenophon (Cyr. 1.2.3)”. 12 Barker (2009: 200) goes even further in (cleverly) suggesting that Cyrus’ comment sums up Herodotus’ positioning towards debate vis-à-vis the Iliad: “Cyrus explicitly confronts and challenges the Greek ideal of the agora, reconfiguring the arena of institutional dissent as the market-place where people swear and cheat on each other and idly chatter. The assembly undergoes a similar revolution in Herodotus. From the centre of the Greek city, as it had been the centre of the Iliad’s narrative about the Trojan War, the assembly occupies a rather marginal position in Herodotus, in terms of both its narrative frequency but also its value, even when it is represented: assemblies are shown to come to nought; critical decisions are taken and enacted outside the institutional structure. Instead, it seems, the onus is placed on the individual”. 108 CHAPTER 2

discusses its interpretation.13 Many opinions are heard and two mutually exclusive ones prevail, the first taking the ‘wooden wall’ to signify the Acropolis, and the other the ships. The professional interpreters confuse things even more as they hold that the words about Salamis presage an Athenian naval defeat off the island (7.142). Themistocles then speaks up suggesting that the oracle refers to the defeat of their enemies in a sea-battle, for which the Athenians should start to prepare themselves (7.143.1–2). His suggestion is considered preferable to that of the professional interpreters (7.143.3: ταῦτα σφίσι ἔγνωσαν αἱρετώτερα εἶναι μᾶλλον ἢ τὰ τῶν χρησμολόγων) and, eventually, Salamis is the greatest naval victory of the Persian Wars won mainly by the Athenians. Through discussion the Athenians are able to reach an agreeable decision; it is the mechanics of debate that allow the productive exchange and clash of opinions. Themistocles’ decisive role is emphasized in this process but it is made possible by the way debate itself works. And what he does is rework the interpretation of the experts; perhaps his alternative version is stimulated precisely by those other, conflicting opinions.14 In any case, Themistocles’ idea is much more pleasing to the Athenians and strikes the right note with them, as they are not willing to flee without a fight.15 On the other hand, and without denying that Herodotus indeed highlights the profitable character of debate, the author seems to also concentrate on the individual, i.e. Themistocles.16 Moreover, it could be argued that Herodotus thus paves the way for his handling of Themistocles vs. the assemblies in Artemisium and especially Salamis. We return to book 5, which is a book particularly expressive of Herodotus’ critical attitude towards debate—and this is important because these authorial comments come at a significant historical and narrative point: when Athens unleashes its potential as a newly democratic state and the storyline shifts from eastern monarchies to free western (Greek) states. The relevant, and complementary, passages are 5.78 and 5.97. In the first passage, Herodotus makes a judgment about the value of isegorie,17 that is, equality in freedom of speech, for Athens:

13 Note an important difference: whereas the Thebans bring the matter to the assembly only after divine instruction, for the Athenians this goes without saying. 14 Barker (2006: 19–23) also recognizes the importance of this debate but his angle is different: he focuses on how the debate “reproduces a resistance to the truth and authority of the written text” (quotation from p. 23). 15 Note that in 7.139.6 Herodotus gives credit to the Athenians, and not to Themistocles, for not being shaken by the Delphic oracles and holding their ground against the invaders. 16 Cf. Barker (2009: 153) who holds that this is Herodotus’ primary purpose here. 17 Note that isegorie never appears in Thucydides (and neither does parrhesia) which might have to do with his more explicitly negative positioning towards democracy and the assembly. Debates 109

Ἀθηναῖοι μέν νυν ηὔξηντο· δηλοῖ δὲ οὐ κατ᾽ ἓν μοῦνον ἀλλὰ πανταχῇ ἡ ἰσηγορίη ὡς ἐστὶ χρῆμα σπουδαῖον, εἰ καὶ Ἀθηναῖοι τυραννευόμενοι μὲν οὐδαμῶν τῶν σφέας περιοικεόντων ἦσαν τὰ πολέμια ἀμείνους, ἀπαλλαχθέντες δὲ τυράννων μακρῷ πρῶτοι ἐγένοντο. δηλοῖ ὦν ταῦτα ὅτι κατεχόμενοι μὲν ἐθελοκάκεον ὡς δεσπότῃ ἐργαζόμενοι, ἐλευθερωθέντων δὲ αὐτὸς ἕκαστος ἑωυτῷ προεθυμέετο κατεργάζεσθαι. (5.78)

So Athens flourished. Now the advantages of everyone having a voice in the political procedure are not restricted just to single instances, but are plain to see wherever one looks. For while the Athenians were oppressed under tyrants, they had no better success in war than any of their neighbours, yet, once the yoke was flung off, they proved the finest fighters in the world. This clearly shows that so long as they were held down by an oppressive regime, they deliberately shirked their duty in the field, as slaves shirk working for their masters, but when freedom was won, then every man amongst them was interested in his own cause.

This has been justifiably interpreted as a straightforward praise of freedom and democracy. But it is not just that. For sure, Herodotus attributes the growth of Athens to freedom of speech and democracy. However, the very same passage and its immediate context cast this judgment in rather grim light. The example Herodotus affords to justify his view focuses on the Athenian victories over their Greek neighbours. In the previous chapters the Athenians, having recalled Cleisthenes and the seven hundred families banished by Cleomenes, send envoys to Persia to set up an alliance in view of a Spartan attack (5.73); they are ready to fight the Peloponnesians in their attempt to make Isagoras the tyrant of Athens, even if this battle is never fought (5.74–5), and they successfully attack the Chalcidians and Boeotians to punish them for supporting the Peloponnesians in their endeavour (5.77). In the same passage, 5.78, Herodotus goes on to say that the free Athenians were successful because each one of them was fighting for himself and not for a master. The meaning is still somewhat obscure as it is not made clear whether the Athenians were fighting for themselves as part of their city, that is, as part of a collective community, or each one Athenian was fighting for himself. Either way, the phrasing ἕκαστος ἑωυτῷ seems to bring out a more self-interested perception of freedom and democracy. The context of 5.97 is important: this is part of Aristagoras’ attempt to secure help for the Ionian revolt. After an unsuccessful petition to the Spartan king Cleomenes, Aristagoras turns to Athens and manages to secure twenty ships. Herodotus appears here a critical admirer of Greek freedom and the Greek cause, since he enters his text twice to pinpoint the flaws of Athenian 110 CHAPTER 2

democracy. On the one hand, he criticizes Athenian democracy, hence the weaknesses of free and open debate: it is easier to deceive many than one (πολλοὺς γὰρ οἶκε εἶναι εὐπετέστερον διαβάλλειν ἢ ἕνα) because Aristagoras did this with thirty thousand Athenians but was unable to get any results with Cleomenes (5.97.2). The susceptibility of democracy to manipulation is duly noted. Rashness, over-excitement and the effect of mass psychology speed up the persuasion process, which is reflected in the small narrative space allocated to the episode.18 On the other hand, the author observes that the Athenian decision to dispatch the ships was the beginning of evils for both Greeks and barbarians (5.97.3: ἀρχὴ κακῶν). This was a bad decision, badly thought-through and taken in an assembly which proved so susceptible to the elusive rhetoric of such a typically demagogic figure as Aristagoras. In the Theban and Athenian cases discussed above, debate proves beneficial to the community since it allows the juxtaposition of different views which are laid before the people, who, in turn, choose what they consider best and get the most desirable result. Herodotus does not deny that open debate can help the community. Nevertheless, this kind of debate is often ineffective both within the community and in a panhellenic context. The Greek state (irrespective of constitution) has structures for ratifying decisions. This does not make intra-state debate infallible but makes it generally more stable than inter-state deliberation where there is no constitutional framework other than merely consensus or its absence. Herodotus delicately suggests that the nature of freedom itself is the main factor which hampers debate. The complicated picture of debate is due to the absence of any compulsion, which enables the Greek cities to pursue their own interests.19 No one forces the Greeks to fight the Persians. On the eve of the Persian invasion they decide freely on whether they want to fight for the common cause and be free (7.132, 178.2), or join the Persian side or remain neutral (7.132, 148–52, 157–63, 168–9). Throughout the Histories, an intense clash of private interests and quarrels between cities and individuals prevails. The two

18 For different approaches to this episode and the complex motivational forces at play on the part of the Athenians, see below, pp. 191–3. 19 That Eurybiades is the commander-in-chief at Salamis is not inconsistent with the freedom of the Greeks. He makes the decisions and Themistocles addresses him when he cannot convince the allies. But Eurybiades decides neither alone nor arbitrarily. When he is persuaded by Themistocles to fight at Salamis, the allies obey (8.64.1). They still find it hard to accept this decision and another debate breaks out at 8.74.2. On the other hand, in the barbarian court there are limitations of choice (αἵρεσις), such as, for example, in the case of Gyges and his alleged ‘choice’, offered by the queen in book 1. Darius’ offering Coes and Histiaeus choice over their reward (5.11) seems questionable too. Debates 111 main opposing interests, the Athenians’ and the Spartans’/Peloponnesians’, continue to generate disputes, especially over fighting at Salamis or the Isthmus (8.49–81). In order to reach a final decision and further panhellenic policy, open discussion needs to become closed, speech restrictions must be enforced, and backstage policy seems at times necessary rather than inevitable. Far from being presented in a favourable light, the Greek cities in the Histories are more often than not incapable of discussion, as expediency and disunity are obstacles to the common cause. The difficulty of the Greeks in working together towards a common goal does not go unnoticed by the Persians or their friends, who repeatedly point out this weakness but patently fail to exploit it. Xerxes, Artabazus, Achaemenes, the medizing Thebans, and most explicitly Artemisia,20 all sketch the same picture of a fragile Greek coalition, notably in speeches and often in the context of debates. As the narrative of the Histories zooms in on both the Greek and the Persian side in alternation, the Persian talk about Greek disunity functions as some type of commentary that runs alongside the chaotic Greek debates. To de-emphasize Greek assemblies and thus stress the lack of unity among the Greeks, Herodotus also uses specific narrative strategies. I will distinguish between three: suppression and compression of the majority of debates; description of long and confounded debates to stress the inability of the Greeks to discuss and act collectively; and focusing on individuals. The first strategy was examined extensively in the previous chapter (section 1.2.1). Herodotus’ selective recording of debates was considered alongside the way he either reduces the dissenting opinions to two opposing ones, or gives only the prevalent view, or reports the view he considers best which he then contrasts to the opinion of the majority. Apart from a handful of lengthy and formal debates (7.157–62; Salamis; 8.140–4; 9.7–11, 26–7), all other debates among the Greeks are only briefly dealt with and mostly reported in indirect speech modes. This brings us to the second point: whenever a formal debate is given on the Greek side, then the purpose is to lay stress on the difficulties of debating and the fragility of the Greek alliance. Two of the prolonged debate scenes, the Tegean-Athenian dispute (9.26–7) and the exchanges between Gelon and the Greek heralds (7.157–62), bring to the fore matters of leadership and

20 See Xerxes: μὴ ἐόντες ἄρθμιοι (7.101.2); Artabazus: he suggests withdrawal within the fortifications of Thebes and sending presents to the most influential of the Greeks, instead of fighting (9.41.2–3); Achaemenes: 7.236.1 on jealousy among the Greeks; Thebans: on destroying the Greek unity by bribing the leading men (9.2.3); Artemisia: ἀλλά σφεας διασκεδᾷς, κατὰ πόλις δὲ ἕκαστοι φεύξονται (8.68β.2). 112 CHAPTER 2

antagonism. Fragmentation, lack of mutual trust and rhetorical trickery lie beneath the speeches of Alexander, the Spartans and the Athenians at Athens (8.140–4) and the subsequent Athenian request for help at Sparta (9.7–11).21 Salamis stands out as an extraordinary case. Here the issue of disunity does not just come up frequently but is integrally connected to the narrative setup and, in effect, shapes the account of the battle. We come across successive debates which often lead nowhere,22 and make Themistocles’ backstage policy necessary.23 The danger of fragmentation of the Greek forces is initially brought forward by Mnesiphilus (8.57.2) and then by Themistocles (8.62.2). There are quarrels between Themistocles and Adeimantus (8.59–60.1, 61), Timodemus and Themistocles (8.125),24 and between the Greek generals (8.123–4). With Salamis the third narrative strategy becomes apparent. More than any other part of the work, the Salamis narrative emphasizes the role of individuals in the context of debates in such a way that they actually marginalize debates. Herodotus suppresses all the other voices only to give prominence to Themistocles and positively accentuate his contribution to the outcome. Other similar cases where the action of individuals is underscored at the expense of the institution of debate include the anonymous Theban (5.79–80), as discussed earlier, Miltiades, Socles, Mnesiphilus25 and the young Gorgo. To say a few words about each of these examples, Miltiades is the only one to speak at Marathon, his opinion is considered the finest (the opposite of χείρων τῶν γνωμέων at 6.109.2) and brings about the best results for Athens and Greece. By making Socles’ speech (5.92) the longest in his Histories, Herodotus lays

21 All these rhetorical pieces are tackled in chs. 3 and 4. 22 Cf. Macan 1908b: 350. 23 See also Immerwahr (1966: 274): “Because of these verbal vacillations the battle came to be the decision of a single man, rather than the result of democratic debate”. 24 On this story, see further Immerwahr 1966: 286 and n. 140. On the similarities of this episode to the Thersites one in the Iliad, with Timodemus recalling Thersites, see Bowie 2007: 215. 25 Note that Socles and Mnesiphilus, who feature in the Histories only once, have evocative names. So(si)cles: ‘save the kleos (glory)’ of Athens, of the allies, even of freedom—or, according to Moles (2007: 264): “So/cles ‘saves his own fame’ (this being his only appearance in Herodotus) and he ‘saves the anti-tyrant fame of the Spartans’ ”. Mnesiphilus: ‘remember the friends’. Neither name seems to be fictitious as, according to the lgpn (ii; iii.A), both are fairly common in Corinth and Athens respectively. However, Herodotus’ known fondness for ‘speaking names’ (popular wisdom is also fond of them) makes it probable that he might have fabricated the names to suit his needs or that he might have been particularly interested in picking up the names from his informants, whether fabricated or not. Debates 113 the weight on his speech and not on the debate.26 Mnesiphilus intervenes and gives the salutary advice at Salamis (8.57). The case of Gorgo is distinctive (5.51). Even if the exchanges between Aristagoras and Cleomenes are more of a conversation than a debate, Gorgo’s interference certainly highlights her role in the final decision-making. The central part she plays in the narrative may be also emphasized in another, more covert way. Cleomenes has Aristagoras wait for three days before he gives his definite reply. Asking for this relatively long time span very likely indicates that Cleomenes intended to consult someone, which must have been either the Gerousia or the Ephors, or the other Spartan king. By omitting any reference to such a meeting, Herodotus manages to focus readers’ attention on Gorgo, the only person to advise Cleomenes. The ability of a person to speak liberally and affect the result of a debate is, of course, a consequence of the free political context. In such a context everyone is allowed to speak, even people who are not named in the narrative or are otherwise insignificant, as they appear in the text only once. This constitutional strength of Greece, which at the same time displaces the focus of the narrative (and the reader) from collective debate to individual initiative, is in sharp contrast to what happens in the Persian court, a subject to which the next sub-section turns.

2.1.2 Persia In the Histories, the atmosphere in the monarchical barbarian court does not suppress debate completely but rather sets different rules. The king himself summons conferences and the fear he causes to his subjects does not allow either free or frank speech. The courtly protocol dictated by the constitution makes the representation of Persian debate more formal than that of the Greek debate; here we find two polarized views. Moreover, the absence of any personal contact between the king and his generals is clearly juxtaposed with the direct nature of Greek dialogue. This can be seen in the dispatch of Mardonius by Xerxes, before the battle of Salamis, to ask the opinions of the commanders on waging a sea-battle (8.67.2), as well as in the dispatch of Alexander to Athens to relay Xerxes’ and Mardonius’ messages (8.140). Persian debate is certainly more orderly than Greek debate, though not more effective. The lack of openness can trip the Persians up, as when Xerxes in book 7 initially invites debate and then suppresses dissent. If the absence of absolute power can cause problems and necessitate manipulation of various kinds in Greece, in Persia the heavy hand of absolute power accompanied by fear can stifle dissent where dissent and dispute would avoid error. Persian debate in this respect is inferior to intra-state debate in Greece (e.g. to the Theban debate which gets the answer to the oracular riddle at 5.79–80).

26 However, the result comes about from the fact that all the allies present agree with Socles. 114 CHAPTER 2

A certain social status is the necessary premise for one to be able to speak to the king or his representatives, such as Mardonius at Plataea, and those who speak must be careful to neither give offence to the powerful nor displease them in any way.27 Speech and power go hand in hand in the Persian court. But, as discussed in chapter 1, the one in power does not necessarily have the corresponding authority. This causes a range of problems as it results in the king (or Mardonius) disregarding the opinion of such people as Artabanus, Artemisia and Demaratus, who possess authority but lack power. On the other hand, Xerxes, who has the absolute right to speak and make decisions, does not take full advantage of this right. This is not only symptomatic of the flawed dynamics of the Persian constitution and deliberation process but is also deeply ironic and renders the nature of Persian debate even more knotty. The dialogue between Demaratus and the exiled Athenian Dicaeus, while Xerxes lays waste to Attica, nicely elucidates the dynamics of the speech-power relation in Persia (8.65). The ex-Spartan king forbids Dicaeus to tell anyone about the fateful sign—they hear a divine voice coming from Eleusis, which Dicaeus takes as anticipating a great disaster for the Persians—because the latter would lose his head if the king was made aware of this, and no one would be able to save him (8.65.4–5).28 The reflections of the Persian noble at the Theban banquet express the same dynamics and their fateful repercussions even more pointedly. When the Persian noble reveals his fears about the future of the Persian army to Thersander of Orchomenus, who shares a couch with him,29 Thersander

27 Cf. e.g. Pelling’s (2006c) detailed discussion of Solon’s indirect manner with the Lydian Croesus. Cf. also Moles 1996 and 2002 on the indirect ways Herodotus warns Athens. Kurke (2011: 428) links Herodotus’ indirect way of advising powerful individuals with Aesop’s. There is always the fear of punishment in case the king hears something displeasing (even if the advice is true and sincere). Although the speaker is invited to talk fearlessly, fairly often he gets punished. Cf. the comments on Xerxes’ conduct above, pp. 87–97. See esp. Xerxes’ reaction in the Pythius episode: after Pythius has been urged by the king himself to ask anything he wishes as a reward for his previous service, he merely requests Xerxes to release the eldest of his sons from army service; but Xerxes gets angry (7.39.1: ἐθυμώθη; Ὦ κακὲ ἄνθρωπε, σὺ ἐτόλμησας . . . ἐὼν ἐμὸς δοῦλος . . .) and punishes Pythius in the cruellest way, killing this very same son. Cf. also the answer the tyrant Gelon gives to Syagrus: “My Spartan friend, reproaches have a way of making a man angry” (7.160.1). 28 See Hdt. 8.65.4–5: Σίγα τε καὶ μηδενὶ ἄλλῳ τὸν λόγον τοῦτον εἴπῃς. ἢν γάρ τοι ἐς βασιλέα ἀνενειχθῇ τὰ ἔπεα ταῦτα, ἀποβαλέεις τὴν κεφαλήν, καὶ σε οὔτε ἐγὼ δυνήσομαι ῥύσασθαι οὔτ᾽ ἄλλος ἀνθρώπων οὐδὲ εἶς. 29 See Hdt. 9.16.3: ὁρᾷς τούτους τοὺς δαινυμένους Πέρσας καὶ τὸν στρατὸν τὸν ἐλίπομεν ἐπὶ τῷ ποταμῷ στρατοπεδευόμενον; τούτων πάντων ὄψεαι ὀλίγου τινὸς χρόνου διελθόντος ὀλίγους τινὰς Debates 115 inquires about the reason why he does not share his fears with Mardonius and the other high-ranking Persians. The reply of the Persian is revealing: “Many of us know that what I have said is true; yet, because we are constrained by necessity, we continue to take orders from our commander. No one would believe us, however true our warning. This is the worst pain a man can have: to understand many things and have power over none” (9.16.4–5).30 The Persian who knows more than the rest is powerless and clearly bound to silence and anonymity by contrast to the Greeks. The brief conversation at the Theban banquet helps clarify the dynamics on the Greek side too: for the Greek Thersander, speaking freely and disseminating important information to the one in charge is a perfectly reasonable course of action; but he is talking to a Persian whose commander is also Persian. Herodotus skillfully reserves for the last book of the Histories this comment which reveals the whole spectrum of the relationship between the Persian king and his subjects and therefore the futility of debate. The problem of speech restrictions in Persia in the mouth of a Persian vividly recalls the chorus of Persian elders in Aeschylus’ Persians singing the triumph of freedom of speech and thought after the Greek victory at Salamis:

οὐδ’ ἔτι γλῶσσα βροτοῖσιν ἐν φυλακαῖς· λέλυται γὰρ λαὸς ἐλεύθερα βάζειν, ὡς ἐλύθη ζυγὸν ἀλκᾶς. αἱμαχθεῖσα δ’ ἄρουραν Αἴαντος περικλύστα νᾶσος ἔχει τὰ Περσῶν. (Aesch. Pers. 591–7)

No longer will men keep a curb upon their tongues; for the people are set free to utter their thoughts at will, now that the yoke of power has been broken. The blood-stained soil of Ajax’s sea-washed isle holds all that once was Persia.

τοὺς περιγενομένους “Do you see these Persians here at the banquet and the army which we have left encamped on the river? Before much time has passed you will see few of them left alive”. 30 See Hdt. 9.16.5: ταῦτα δὲ Περσέων συχνοὶ ἐπιστάμενοι ἑπόμεθα ἀναγκαίῃ ἐνδεδεμένοι. ἐχθίστη δὲ ὀδύνη [ἐστὶ] τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποισι αὕτη, πολλὰ φρονέοντα μηδενὸς κρατέειν. 116 CHAPTER 2

The Persians, at least some of them, do understand the limitations and weaknesses of their constitution, but they cannot do anything to change them, unless an external power, like the Greeks in Aeschylus, brings tyranny to an end. Nevertheless, as our test cases (2.4) will show, even in such political circumstances, and although they are bound to fail by virtue of their constitution, the Persians do actually try to discuss. A final issue worth addressing here is the rather odd comment about Persian decision-making in the Persian ethnography of book 1. Herodotus remarks that the Persians are usually drunk when they discuss the most important matters (μεθυσκόμενοι δὲ ἐώθασι βουλεύεσθαι τὰ σπουδαιέστατα τῶν πρηγμάτων) and review any decision on the next day when they are sober; if they still agree with it, they implement it, and, if not, they forget about it. Similarly, any decision they reach when they are sober, they revisit when they are drunk (1.133.3–4). What are we to make of this? Asheri observes that “this famous custom is presented with sympathy as an amusing curiosity”.31 Herodotus’ comment is cul- turally significant, related in a humorous manner but not necessarily meant to censure the Persians. Herodotus admires many things about Persian culture, and decision-making could be one of them. Whatever else this light-hearted comment indicates, Herodotus may also intend here to comment reflectively upon Greek debating practices. The Persians recognize the importance of decision-making, take their time when reaching judgment and are willing to review decisions; and all this is part of a collective process. The Greeks, by contrast, seem to take the privilege of decision-making for granted, find it hard to act as a collective unit, and it is most often the individual initiative rather than the institution of debate that saves the day.

2.2 Language

Herodotus carefully considers his use of language to convey how discord is an obstacle to open discussion among the Greeks and to divide and join together Greeks and Persians. Regarding the fragility of Greek unity, Herodotus maintains and reinforces the dynamic and antagonistic atmosphere among the Greeks by emphasizing division of opinion.32 Meanwhile, battle-like language

31 See Asheri, Lloyd and Corcella 2007: 168–9. Cf. also Thomas 2011. 32 See e.g. 8.74.2: οἱ μὲν . . . Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ καὶ Αἰγινῆται καὶ Μεγαρέες . . . Cf. also 7.219.2: ἐβουλεύοντο οἱ Ἕλληνες, καὶ σφεων ἐσχίζοντο αἱ γνῶμαι· οἱ μὲν . . . οἱ δέ; 6.100.1–2: ἐφρὀνεον δὲ διφασίας ἰδέας. οἱ μέν . . . ἄλλοι δὲ; 6.109.1–2: τοῖσι δὲ Ἀθηναίων στρατηγοῖσι ἐγίνοντο δίχα αἱ γνῶμαι . . . ὡς δὲ δίχα τε ἐγίνοντο; 7.142.2: οἱ μὲν . . . οἱ δ’ αὖ; 9.106.2–3: Πελοποννησίων μὲν . . . Ἀθηναίοισι δέ. Debates 117 is used to describe debates as on-going struggles, which consequently anticipate the actual battles to follow.33 Such battle language notably includes the following words, used in both a literal and a figurative way: ὠθισμός, ἀκροβολίζομαι, ἀμφισβασίη.34 Ὠθισμός describes either ‘hand-to-hand combat’, in the battles of Thermopylae (7.225.1) and Plataea (9.62.2), or ‘wrangling of words’, in the debates of the Greeks before Salamis (8.78) and of the Tegeans and the Athenians before Plataea (9.26.1).35 Ἀκροβολίζομαι literally means ‘skir- mish’ and is used to describe ‘battle from distance’ as opposed to close battle. The word has here a unique metaphorical use as it describes the ‘verbal skir- mishes’ of the Greeks before the battle of Salamis (8.64.1).36 Ἀμφισβασίη, func- tioning as a variation of ὠθισμὸς, intensifies the violent atmosphere of Greek debates (8.81).37 The vivid picture of Greek feuding is sustained and further developed through the employment of athletic language. “In the races, the man who starts before the signal is whipped” (8.59: ἐν τοῖσι ἀγῶσι οἱ προεξανιστάμενοι ῥαπίζονται), Adeimantus says, thus making a particularly interesting use of the word ἀγών (‘contest/race’). Debate is here effectively compared to races with all the competitive and fighting aspects these entail: the Greeks are very much like the athletes striving for excellence and victory among themselves. Given that whipping was the penalty for those violating the rules in the Olympic Games,38 the comparison becomes all the more effective. This athletic imagery continues in Themistocles’ ensuing reply “but those who get left behind win no

33 Cf. Pelling 1997a. Cf. also Immerwahr 1966: 274 (“before Salamis the Greeks were intent on verbal battles rather than on the real one”) and n. 102. The most successful foreshadowing of a battle happens in the case of the Tegean-Athenian quarrel: the quarrel is described as ὠθισμός, and this is exactly how the battle of Plataea finishes (9.62.2: ἐς ὃ ἀπίκοντο ἐς ὠθισμόν “till they started fighting hand-to-hand”) (cf. also Flower and Marincola 2002: 147–8). 34 On all three words, see Powell s.vv.; Bowie (2007: 150), who argues for a comic effect of these metaphors. On ὠθισμός, cf. also Macan 1908b: 453; How and Wells 1912: 262. On ἀκροβολίζομαι, see also lsj s.v.; cf. How and Wells 1912: 256. 35 Note that we also find the verb ὠθίζομαι in the figurative sense of ‘wrangle’ at the meeting of the seven Persian conspirators (3.76.3): another nice touch on the challenging of the Greco-Persian polarity. 36 Cf. Pelling (2006c: 111): “So this is ‘freedom’ in action, in its most unregulated and roister- ing form: and the language used to describe it—‘skirmishing’ (64.1)—suggests that the bellicosity which should have been spent on the Persians is being spent on one another”. 37 See Hdt. 8.81: τῶν δὲ αὖτις ἐγίνετο λόγων ἀμφισβασίη “thereupon another dispute broke out”. 38 See Bowie 2007: 146. 118 CHAPTER 2 prizes” (8.59: οἱ δέ γε ἐγκαταλειπόμενοι οὐ στεφανοῦνται), which reinforces the idea that victory and prizes are the ultimate goal.39 Athletic language is further associated with war, a connection which becomes clear in 9.33 where the word ἀγών is said to apply to both types of contest, athletics and war.40 The use of battle language in association with debate as well as the employment of athletic language in association with debate and warfare is very common in fifth- and fourth-century literature, while early examples can be traced back to Homer.41 In particular, the word ἀγών and its derivatives occur very frequently in battle context.42 Moreover, the link between sport and debate, with debate described as ἀγών, is already there in Homer and occurs in Thucydides too; it has not become exclusive yet, but becomes formal in fifth- century tragedy when a verbal exchange is labelled as an ἀγών λόγων, a ‘contest of words’.43 The tie between rhetoric and athletic competition is equally popular with Gorgias (82 A 8, 82 B 8 D–K) and Protagoras (Plato Sophist 232d–e; Protagoras 335a), it features in Plato also in association with characters other than Protagoras (e.g. Protagoras 316d–e, 339e), and Aristotle links specifically legal trials (i.e. courtroom battles) to athletic competition (Rh. 1370b31–1371a8).

39 Barker (2009: 185 n. 134) suggests that in Herodotus there is a change in the meaning of the word ἀγών: from book 7 (when Xerxes launches his expedition against Greece), rather than merely indicating ‘races’, the word obtains a more abstract meaning and denotes ‘contest’, and therefore ‘battle’. If this is the case, then the use of ἀγών by Adeimantus encompasses the aspect of fighting itself, hence it achieves a greater impact. 40 See Hdt. 9.33.3: μαθόντες οὐκ ἐς γυμνικοὺς ἀλλ᾽ ἐς ἀρηίους ἀγῶνας φέρον τὸ Τεισαμενοῦ μαντήιον. See also the use of ἀγών and its derivatives in 6.45.2; 7.11.3; 8.3.2. Other examples that show the closeness of military to athletic language include the word σφάλμα in 9.9.2 and the phrase νίκην ἀναιρέεται in 9.64.1 (see Flower and Marincola 2002: 116 and 219 respectively). 41 An indicative example of battle language applied to debate in Homer is Iliad 1.304–5. On military imagery applied to politics in fourth-century oratory, see Brock 2004: 251 and n. 5. On the use of athletic language in a military context especially in Thucydides, see Hornblower 2004: 44–51, 336–46 (who argues for epinician, and more specifically Pindaric, influence on Thucydides in this respect). 42 On debate as a contest of words (agon) and the different meanings of agon in Greek literature, see Barker 2009: 5–9 with notes, as well as under ‘agon’ in the ‘General Index’. On the application of ἀγών to warfare (especially between Athens and Sparta) in fourth-century funeral orations, see Loraux 1986: 95–7 (including the footnotes which also mention Thucydidean passages) and 383 n. 84. 43 See e.g. Il. 7.298; Thuc. 3.67.6; Eur. Andr. 234; Heracl. 116; Soph. El. 1491–2. On politics as an athletic contest in Xenophon, Plato and Isocrates, see Brock 2004: 251 and n. 4 (with references to other fourth-century and later literature, and also to Herodotus 3.83.2). Debates 119

Another linguistic means deployed to build up this competitive atmosphere is the combination of the noun γνώμη with the verb νικάω-ῶ in debate scenes.44 This structure is familiar from Homer (where one finds the noun βουλή instead of γνώμη, e.g. Od. 10.46: βουλὴ δὲ κακὴ νίκησεν ἑταίρων), Thucydides (e.g. 2.12.2), and elsewhere.45 In addition, there is an interesting, isolated linguistic occurrence: the use of the word διαλυθέντες to describe the end of the first Greek conference in the Salamis narrative (8.56). This paints a picture of dissolution and separation as the conference is literally breaking up. At the same time, the language of competition shows that there actually was room for competition. And the battle of words requires a certain flexibility and freedom in order for everyone to be able to express their opinions liberally. Herodotus indeed employs positive language to highlight Greek freedom, collectivity and plurality of opinions.46 Moreover, the phrase used to indicate that Eurybiades opens up the discussion to everyone (8.49.1: προθέντος Εὐρυβιάδεω γνώμην ἀποφαίνεσθαι τὸν βουλόμενον) is strongly reminiscent of the question “who wishes to speak?” that the herald asked in the democratic assembly.47 There is marked use of inclusive language which conveys a sense of communal discussions and decisions, hence a sense of operating according to democratic principles. But we also notice the use of autocratic language running parallel to the democratic one when Herodotus is talking about Eurybiades, the general commander of the Greek forces, whose mere presence might be seen as already undermining the democratic character of the conferences.48 This battle-/competition-like atmosphere of Greek debate and the autocratic language used for Eurybiades become particularly meaningful for the polarity between Greeks and Persians if juxtaposed with two features of the Persian debate: its order (kosmos) and the eagerness of the Persians to conduct a discussion. First, by contrast to the disorder and near chaos in the Greek assembly which curb discussion, the Persians sit in order of rank and wait for the king or his representative to ask for their opinion (8.67.2).49

44 See Hdt. 5.36.4, 118.3; 6.109.2; 7.175.1. 45 See e.g. Eur. Med. 912; Xen. Anab. 6.2.12. 46 See Hdt. 8.49.1: οἱ στρατηγοὶ . . . ἐβουλεύοντο; 8.49.2: αἱ γνῶμαι δὲ τῶν λεγόντων; 8.58.2: συλλέξαι; 8.59.1: συνελέχθησαν; 8.79.2: συνέδριον; 8.108.1: ἐβουλεύοντο; 8.74.2: σύλλογός τε δὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ πολλὰ ἐλέγετο περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν. 47 See e.g. Eur. Supp. 438–41; Dem. 18.170. See also Rood 1999: 158; cf. Pelling 2006c: 108. 48 See Hdt. 8.63: ταύτην δὴ αἱρέεται τὴν γνώμην, αὐτοῦ μένοντας διαναυμαχέειν “he [i.e. Eurybiades] took the decision to stay and fight the decisive sea-battle there”; 8.64.1: . . . ἐπείτε Εὐρυβιάδῃ ἔδοξε . . . “. . . when Eurybiades had made up his mind . . .” 49 In the actual fighting, however, the picture is reversed: the Greeks preserve their kosmos, but the Persians do not (8.86; cf. 7.223.3) and succumb as soon as Mardonius dies (9.63) 120 CHAPTER 2

Then, the use of an expression similar to the standard formula of the democratic assembly by Xerxes, at the start of the debate on whether he should launch an expedition against Greece in book 7, and also by Coes of Mytilene regarding Darius’ disposition to listen to other opinions, complicates the polarity even more.50 These proleptically allude to the usage of the expression by Eurybiades later; they thus become suggestive of the problematic Greek debates to follow. Comparable willingness on the part of the Persian king to call for discussion is evident in the Salamis narrative, when Xerxes, rather surprisingly, appears to be interested in learning the views of all his generals on engaging in a sea- battle with the Greeks.51 The context is of course laden with the limitations of the Persian political system: the relationship between the king and his subjects remains cold, indirect and distant, with Mardonius acting as the king’s mouthpiece. Still, Mardonius fulfils his duties in quite a ‘democratic’ way: he goes around (8.68.1: περιιών) and asks everyone as instructed. Xerxes is also consulting with his counsellors and calls specifically for Artemisia’s advice (8.101.1, 101.4, 102.1). There is highlighting of different opinions in Persia too,52 and we are at least briefly led to believe that Xerxes is actually going with the majority.53 Of course this sense of conferring by inviting diverse opinions is not as vivid as it is in Greece, since the number of people asked to contribute is already limited among the distinguished Persians, the generals or the advisers. Nevertheless, the language choices create a feeling of relative openness and qualified fostering of debate; they certainly do not indicate complete aversion to discussion. This makes a stark contrast to Themistocles’ secrecy and backstage intrigues on the Greek side, as he quietly slips away from the meeting (8.75.1: λαθών) and sends one of his slaves to the Persian camp. The willingness of the Persians to discuss is all the more evident in other passages of the Histories where the Persians ‘come together to words’ (ἔρχομαι

(cf. de Jong 1999: 268; Pelling 2006c: 112 n. 34). This might therefore be a reason why those Persians, who fight in a disorderly fashion, cannot take advantage of Greek disunity, and as a result lose the war. 50 See Hdt. 7.8δ.2 (Xerxes): ἵνα δὲ μὴ ἰδιοβουλεύειν ὑμῖν δοκέω, τίθημι τὸ πρῆγμα ἐς μέσον, γνώμην κελεύων ὑμέων τὸν βουλόμενον ἀποφαίνεσθαι; 4.97.2 (Coes): . . . πυθόμενος πρότερον εἴ οἱ φίλον εἴη γνώμην ἀποδέκεσθαι παρὰ τοῦ βουλομένου ἀποδείκνυσθαι. 51 See Hdt. 8.67.1–2: ἐνθαῦτα κατέβη αὐτὸς Ξέρξης ἐπὶ τὰς νέας, ἐθέλων σφι συμμεῖξαί τε καὶ πύθεσθαι τῶν ἐπιπλεόντων τὰς γνώμας . . . πέμψας Ξέρξης Μαρδόνιον εἰρώτα ἀποπειρώμενος ἑκάστου εἰ ναυμαχίην ποιέοιτο. 52 See Hdt. 8.68.1: οἱ μὲν ἄλλοι κατὰ τὠυτὸ γνώμην ἐξεφέροντο, κελεύοντες ναυμαχίην ποιέεσθαι, Ἀρτεμισίη δὲ τάδε ἔφη. 53 See Hdt. 8.69.2: ὅμως δὲ τοῖσι πλέοσι πείθεσθαι ἐκέλευε. Debates 121

ἐς λόγους)54 or ‘put things into the middle/throw the matter into open discussion’ ([προ/κατα]τίθημι τὸ πρῆγμα/πρήγματα ἐς μέσον).55 Barker56 considers the application of the latter expression to debate a Herodotean innovation, which is then taken up and formalized by tragedy (e.g. Eur. Hel. 1033). Following studies by Detienne and Vernant, he links the phrase to turning something private into something public also in terms of debate, but moves beyond that in drawing attention to the need for limitations for any openness to be meaningful and in making the point that “there is already a fiction of openness in the phrase es meson”.57 If this is so, then Herodotus quite fittingly saves this expression for his despotic Persians. But this does not rule out the fact that Herodotus’ using the expression only in a Persian setting might also go some way to challenging the Greco-Persian distinction. By contrast to Persia, the only thing that happens in the Greek middle is the breaking out of resentment: ἐξερράγη ἐς τὸ μέσον (8.74.2). The use of a verb as forceful as ‘break out’ highlights not only the potential of freedom/democracy to foster dissent and accommodate—albeit not necessarily in a harmonious or civilized atmosphere—different views, but also the seriousness and extent of that dissent.

2.3 On the Cusp between Homer and Thucydides

One of the topics which was tackled in the previous section is how war and sport vocabulary are marshalled to describe debate and its workings in Greece—a strategy favoured by Homer, Thucydides and later authors. This section will involve a brief look at whether the pugnacious and competitive picture of debate drawn at the level of language is sustained by the dynamics of debate in Homer and Thucydides. More broadly, the possible affinities between the mechanism of debate in Herodotus, Homer and Thucydides will be discussed. In vividly representing the thorny nature of debate and freedom of speech as well as the uncertain nature of rhetoric, does Herodotus

54 See Hdt. 1.86.4; 4.98.2; 7.105, 213; 9.41.1. 55 See Hdt. 1.206.3; 7.8δ.2; 3.80.2. Even though the outcome is neither positive nor desirable. For example, in book 1, when the debate actually works and Cyrus listens to Croesus’ view, the Persians are defeated by Tomyris and Cyrus himself is killed; in the Constitutional Debate in book 3 any change is averted and we come full circle back to monarchy; in book 7 Xerxes rejects Artabanus’ view at first, he then reconsiders, but a vision forces him to change his mind once again and thus the expedition ends in disaster. 56 See Barker 2009: 185 and n. 134. 57 See Barker 2009: 17–19 and relevant notes (quotation from p. 18 n. 63). 122 CHAPTER 2 borrow and appropriate any elements from Homer? And to what extent does Herodotus’ handling of debate differ from or overlap with Thucydides’? In the first large-scale study of literary debate from Homer to the fifth- century tragedians, Barker58 puts forward the argument that openness and freedom always entail boundaries and restrictions and there is accordingly an irresolvable tension. Based on Homer, he produces two templates, an Iliadic and an Odyssean one, and argues that we can understand the role of debate in history and tragedy as the development of these two epic models—with certain nuances in the different genres. The Iliad, Thucydides and Sophocles’ Ajax belong together as their characters and authors validate debate. The Odyssey, Herodotus and Euripides’ Hecuba replicate a similar pattern whereupon debate with all the dissent and openness is presented as ineffective at the level of both the characters and the author. Despite the fact that such an attitude towards the epics might seem one-sided as it does not do justice to their complexities,59 there are certainly merits in devising an overarching framework to map out the representation of the literary agon. According to Barker,60 in the Iliad the Achaeans gradually manage to gain the right to dissent in the assembly for themselves. They do so with the help of Achilles, who opposes Agamemnon in their first gathering in book 1. Debate thus emerges as an achievement the Achaeans get for themselves after many attempts and successive councils which try to frame the boundaries of dissent. The Iliadic picture of the assembly as an institution of social cohesion with a beneficial outcome is substituted in the Odyssey by the marginalization and suppression of dissident voices where there is no real interest in the wider community. In Barker’s classification, the role of debate in the Histories is as divisive, problematic, unfruitful and marginal as in the Odyssey. But elements from the Iliad do pertain to Herodotus’ representation as well, primarily in that he maintains debate as an important component of his narrative, deeply embedded in the narrative context and strongly tied with themes which run through his work. Another important point of contact between Herodotus and the Iliad is the negotiation of power dynamics within the assembly, as these are articulated in the long debate at Salamis and the Thersites scene respectively.61 There

58 See Barker 2009. 59 Cf. Campbell’s 2010 review of Barker 2009. 60 See Barker 2009: 31–134 (on Homer). Other studies on Homeric debate include e.g. Martin 1951: 17–41; Momigliano 1973; Finley 1977: 77–81; Ruzé 1997: 13–106; Hölkeskamp 1998; Hammer 2002: 80–92. 61 See below, p. 141 n. 131. Debates 123 is also the subject of disunity. The conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles that forms the main theme of the Iliad and guides the plot, brings to the fore the clash between personal feelings and common good where the first prevail, and sets the rules for all debates to follow until the conflict is finally resolved. Similarly, in Herodotus, the conflict between common and personal benefit dominates, more or less overtly, from beginning to end, and defines the nature of Greek inter-city debate in particular. At the same time, the Homeric precedent implies the hope that disaster will be averted and the Greeks will engineer some kind of temporary unity sufficient to defeat the invaders. Furthermore, and perhaps most significantly, there are similarities in terms of debate dynamics between Herodotean Persian debate and Homeric (Odyssean in particular) divine debate, as well as Homeric debate conducted in societies that represent ‘otherness’. That Zeus is the dominant figure in the divine debates and holds supreme power recalls the autocratic way in which Xerxes handles debate to affirm his power. In the Iliad, Zeus calls most divine assemblies and allows the rest of the gods to speak or silences them (as he does with Hera in Il. 1.531–69).62 Opposing views are expressed and the gods are quarrelling, but Zeus makes the final decision. Speech restrictions in the divine realm are much tighter in the Odyssey, which is why Herodotus’ Persian debate most resembles this epic model of debate. The Odyssean Zeus exercises a firmer control over debate and is exclusively responsible for summoning conferences where no conflicting viewpoints are heard. The presence of Athena, the only god who gets to talk to and with Zeus (Od. 1.26–95; 5.3–42), reads more like the consultation model of the Persian monarchs (especially Xerxes) who similarly silence their subjects and decide who will speak and who will not. Indirect communication in the Persian court is another feature that Herodotus seems to share with Homer and his Zeus. Just as the king of gods uses messengers (Iris in the Iliad and Hermes in the Odyssey, but others as well, e.g. Oneiros in the Iliad) to relay his messages,63 so the Eastern kings (e.g. Deioces in 1.99.1) and notably Xerxes use heralds and intermediaries to transmit their words to their subjects. The connections Herodotus draws between Xerxes and Zeus in his narrative should be viewed against this Homeric background. Xerxes implicitly compares himself to Zeus when he proclaims

62 See e.g. Il. 8.2–40; 20.4–30; 24.33–119. 63 Note that whereas Zeus’ messengers repeat almost word by word his message in accordance with the oral and formulaic features of epic poetry, Herodotus finds other ways to relay the messages and skips repetition in order to serve the economy of his narrative (on this, see e.g. Bowie 2007: 157). 124 CHAPTER 2 his plan to make Persian territory end only at the sky, the domain of Zeus.64 Herodotus also has a Hellespontine man see Xerxes as the personification of Zeus (7.56.2).65 By reproducing the Homeric template of divine conferences, Herodotus may be playing upon the Persian notion that their kings equalled gods. The Homeric will of Zeus is replaced by the Herodotean will of Xerxes, which might enhance the hybris of the latter in the eyes of the Greeks. This, however, does not preclude a comparison on the human level between Eastern monarchs/Xerxes and Agamemnon’s ways when he dispatches his messengers to carry out his affairs,66 or when he calls assemblies in the Iliad.67 The depiction of Persian debate conducted under Xerxes is an interesting blend of characteristics of human and divine debate in the Iliad as well as divine debate in the Odyssey.68 What about the conferences of the ‘others’? As mentioned earlier, the Iliadic ‘other’, the Trojans, have been cast by scholars both as different from and similar to the Achaeans, and we have already concluded that although there are some divergences in their depiction the Trojans are represented in a fashion very close to the Achaeans, very much like—yet not quite like—the Persians and the Greeks. When it comes to debating, the Trojan assemblies resemble Herodotus’ Persian debates. The same features that separate the Trojan from the Achaean assemblies—69i.e. that the Trojans are completely contingent upon the royal family who exercise very tight control upon debate and dissident parties—bring them closer to their Herodotean ‘other’ equivalent. Even the picture of the Trojan elders sitting by the gates

64 See Hdt. 7.8γ.1: γῆν τὴν Περσίδα ἀποδέξομεν τῷ Διὸς αἰθέρι ὁμουρέουσαν. 65 ὦ Ζεῦ, τί δὴ ἀνδρὶ εἰδόμενος Πέρσῃ καὶ οὔνομα ἀντὶ Διὸς Ξέρξην θέμενος . . .; “Why, Zeus, do you disguise yourself as a Persian man and take the name of Xerxes instead of Zeus . . .?” That such affinities were popular among the Greeks is further attested by a fragment of Gorgias which explicitly labels Xerxes as ‘the Zeus of the Persians’ (82 B 5a D–K). It is worth mentioning here Kurke’s (2011: 404–12) interesting argument that in the Herodotean scenes of Bias of Priene or Pittacus of Mytilene and Croesus (1.27) and Demaratus and Xerxes (7.101–4) the Homeric register of the Eastern king is opposed to the lowly language of fable spoken by the Greeks. In these Herodotean scenes that involve advice by a Greek wise man to an Eastern monarch, the Aesopic genre of discourse interacts and competes with the Homeric. Albeit focused on Aesopic elements in Herodotus, the argument still consolidates the fact that Homeric influence is suffused throughout Herodotus’ construction of barbarian kings. 66 On Zeus’, Agamemnon’s and Xerxes’ indirect communication strategies, see Jones 1999: 19. 67 Cf. Barker 2009: 176. Cf. also above, p. 96 for a brief comparison between Xerxes and Agamemnon in terms of their limited authority. 68 Cf. Bowie (2007: 146) who notes some similarities between the Greek debates at Salamis (Hdt. 8.59–63) and human and divine debates in the Iliad. 69 See Barker 2009: 67–74. Debates 125 like cicadas, although they are good at public speaking (Il. 3.149–52), recalls Herodotean moments when Persians are incapable of imparting their knowledge to the king because they lack the power to do so. The chaos-order antithesis reflected in the Achaean versus Trojan assemblies is also important here as it points to the comparable dynamics that define the contrast between Greek and Persian debate in Herodotus.70 A similar contrast is in the heart of the Odyssey. One of the Odyssean ‘others’, the Phaeacians, also have an assembly. Athena, not the Phaeacian king Alcinous, calls the leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians to a conference (Od. 8.10–15). The purpose is very specific: the return of Odysseus to his country.71 Alcinous simply explains the situation and announces his decision (Od. 8.25–47). This model very much mirrors Herodotean Persian debates and is set in sharp contrast to the Ithacan assemblies72 which are distinguished by their openness and wide participation. This is particularly evident in the first and longest assembly (Od. 2.6–257), where the participants are divided among those who support Telemachus and those who do not; despite the ineffectiveness of the debate, many people speak (Aegyptius, Telemachus, Antinous, Eurymachus, Halitherses, Mentor) and there is intense dissent with Antinous opposing Telemachus. The Ithacan assemblies clearly correspond to Herodotus’ Greek model. Herodotus relies heavily on Homer and especially the Odyssey for his speeches. A Homeric strand may be also detected in Thucydides’ depiction of debate when Pericles is around. The way the assembly operates under Pericles (especially when, confident of the rightness of his views, Pericles silences the Athenians by summoning no assembly in Thuc. 2.22.1) resembles the way the assembly operates under Zeus in Homer.73 Generic conventions allowed comedy to present Pericles as an Olympian,74 or more specifically Zeus,75 and satirize him while expressing covert criticism of his methods. The genre Thucydides was writing in imposed limitations, as did the historian’s personal sympathy for Pericles. That Pericles meets no opposition in the History when

70 Note that, just like in Herodotus, the opposite is the case when it comes to fighting (see above, p. 14 for Homer and p. 119 n. 49 for Herodotus). 71 Cf. the discussions over Xerxes’ return to Asia (Hdt. 8.101–2). 72 See Od. 2.6–257; 16.342–408; 20.240–7; 24.421–64. 73 Cf. the way in which Themistocles cancels the role of the Greek assemblies at Salamis. 74 See Ar. Ach. 530–4 on Pericles as an enraged Olympian striking Greece with lightning and thunder (in Zeus’ fashion) with reference to the Megarian decree. 75 Cratinus in Plut. Per. 3.3. 126 CHAPTER 2 speaking in the assembly is a structural feature that highlights Olympian qualities in his representation.76 The dynamics of debate in Thucydides expose its defects and weaknesses, and form a criticism of democratic deliberation and decision-making processes.77 The debate at Sparta in book 1 is emotional and irrational (1.67–88). The Mytilenean debate presents us with highly manipulative uses of rhetoric by both Cleon and Diodotus, while they both censure the assembly (3.37–49). In the Plataean debate the Spartans assert their power over the weak by narrowing down dissent; the result of the debate at the expense of the Plataeans is already predetermined (3.52–68). The Melian dialogue (5.84–113) is a conversation conducted behind closed gates rather than a debate but it still showcases the fact that there is no room for discussion and sets pragmatism in opposition to idealism. Similar manipulation of rhetoric occurs in the Sicilian debate (6.8–26). So many failed debates that make the wrong decisions succeed one another. Herodotus combines elements from Homer and paves the way for Thucydides’ severe criticism of deliberative processes among the Greeks. His view of debate does not differ radically from Thucydides’ in this respect. On the contrary, he shares with his successor the assessment of debate as a defective institution which frequently goes wrong within a political community. His canvas is wider because his theme is broader and his interests demonstrably different. By placing Greek and Persian but also other barbarian debates side by side, Herodotus pins down differences and similarities, and challenges Greek ways of debate. His criticism does not seem as harsh as Thucydides’ because, for one thing, he often uses the depiction of barbarian debate to convey his views on Greek debate.78 Moreover, in Thucydides’ narrative, cor- ruption of values, lack of any moral principle and disregard for any racial connection dominate, and institutions break completely. Thucydides’ criticism is sharper because things got much worse between the Greeks and the subject of his history itself, the narration of the greatest Greek inter-city war (a subject

76 Cf. Pitcher 2007: 115. On Thucydides’ treatment of Periclean speech, see also briefly above, p. 42. 77 On Thucydidean debate, see Cogan 1981; Macleod 1983: 52–67, 88–122; Ober 1998; Hesk 2000: 248–58; Barker 2009: 203–63. Cf. also Price (2001: 81–204) who, in order to support his argument that the Peloponnesian War is depicted by Thucydides as a civil war (stasis) between the Greeks, interprets the speeches of the Greeks in the History as documenting their inability to understand each other. 78 Xenophon also uses Persians to say something about Greek freedom, e.g. Cyrus’ talk in Anab. 1.7.3–4. Debates 127 narrower than Herodotus’), allows him to elaborate more on the workings of Greek debate. While Herodotus admits some benefits of debate—especially intra-city—for Thucydides no debate can go well.

2.4 Test Cases

2.4.1 Greece 2.4.1.1 Debate Purpose Distorted: The Cases of the Ionian Tyrants and Sparta Book 4 affords us the first debate among Greeks in the work79 which functions programmatically for the Greek debates to follow. It sets the pattern for the main narrative modes employed in the representation of Greek debate (i.e. indirect speech and limitation of the opinions to two opposing ones). It also introduces us to Herodotus’ stance on Greek debate: most of the time something seems to go wrong. The purpose and result of the council bring it very close to the critical debate between the Spartans and their allies concerning the abolition of Athenian democracy in book 5. During the Scythian expedition, the Ionians who accompany Darius are ordered to guard for sixty days the bridge the Persians built over the Danube to cross over, and to destroy it if Darius has not returned by then (4.98). A Scythian division reaches the bridge first to claim that they bring the Ionians their freedom (ἐλευθερίην ὑμῖν ἥκομεν φέροντες) if they are willing to leave after the sixty days have passed; neither they nor Darius will blame them if they do so. The Ionians promise to do just that (4.133). But after sixty days, when the Scythians come back, the Ionians still watch over the bridge. The Scythians remind the Ionians of their promise and urge them to cut off the bridges and desert the Persians. They can now go home happy as free people (ἄπιτε χαίροντες ἐλεύθεροι), thanking the gods and the Scythians; the Scythians will make sure that the Ionians’ former master will not campaign against anyone else ever again (4.136.3–4). Faced with this suggestion, the Ionian tyrants are deliberating about their next move. Herodotus reports two opinions, Miltiades’ in favour of the Scythian proposition and Histiaeus’ against it. When Histiaeus’ opinion is laid before the interlocutors, everyone who was supporting Miltiades before changes sides (4.137). Histiaeus’ argument is strictly based on expediency: under Darius each one of them is a tyrant in a separate city,80 and if Darius is

79 There is also the debate in the Samian bag episode (3.46) but this is extremely brief. 80 Cf. Hdt. 4.138.1: ἐόντες λόγου πρὸς βασιλέος “they were all men highly esteemed by the king”. 128 CHAPTER 2 defeated then they will lose their power since every city will prefer democracy to tyranny (4.137.2).81 Histiaeus’ view wins the day as the tyrants value their rule over freedom and democracy. That they are themselves tyrants, hence by definition interested in their personal benefit, might partly justify their choice. Their decision, however, cannot be disengaged from their Ionian ethnicity. Servility and self-interest constitute two main features of the Ionian character. It is again self-interest that makes Histiaeus become, ironically, the instigator of the overthrow of the Persian yoke when the circumstances change. Histiaeus organizes the revolt together with the equally self-centred Aristagoras who readily ejects the Ionian tyrants to set up popular governments (ἰσονομίην) and win public support (5.37.2, 38.2). On the other hand, the servile nature of the Ionians comes up frequently in the text, for example, when they turn down proposals by Bias (1.170) and Maeandrius (3.142–3) which could have enabled them to gain their freedom, or when, fed up with the hard training scheme of Dionysius of Phocaea, they proclaim that they would rather be slaves of the Persians (6.12.3).82 The debate is additionally important for a word from the ‘democracy’ family appears here for the first time in the Histories, tellingly in the speech of Histiaeus and, even more revealingly, in a debate which aims at suppressing democracy (4.137.2: δημοκρατέεσθαι), and which occurs only a few chapters before the outbreak of the Ionian revolt. Intratextuality proves pivotal here. The same verb occurs at 6.43.3, where Herodotus, trying to silence any objection of his Greek audience to Otanes supporting democracy in Persia in the debate on the constitutions (3.80–2), relates that Mardonius, after the Ionian revolt, suppressed the tyrants in all the Ionian states and set up democratic institutions (δημοκρατίας) in their place. Democracy occurs one last time in book 6, where its establishment in Athens is linked with the name of Cleisthenes (6.131.1: Κλεισθένης τε ὁ τὰς φυλὰς καὶ τὴν δημοκρατίην Ἀθηναίοισι καταστήσας). These backward and forward links, the reference to democracy in a passage which strives to prove the authenticity of the Constitutional Debate and the remark about Athenian democracy, all are poised to create a strong sense of irony. Democracy is not exclusive to the Greeks and its nature may appear problematic: whereas the Persians discuss the possibility of democracy—even

81 See Hdt. 4.137.2: Ἱστιαίου δὲ τοῦ Μιλησίου ἐναντίη ταύτῃ, λέγοντος ὡς νῦν μὲν διὰ Δαρεῖον ἕκαστος αὐτῶν τυραννεύει πόλιος, τῆς Δαρείου δὲ δυνάμιος καταιρεθείσης οὔτε αὐτὸς Μιλησίων οἷος τε ἔσεσθαι ἄρχειν οὔτε ἄλλον οὐδένα οὐδαμῶν· βουλήσεσθαι γὰρ ἑκάστην τῶν πολίων δημοκρατέεσθαι μᾶλλον ἢ τυραννεύεσθαι. 82 For a discussion of the Dionysius of Phocaea episode in conjunction with the Ionian character, see below, pp. 257–62. Debates 129 if they reject it in the end—83and Mardonius sets up democracies in Greek cities,84 the Ionian tyrants reject democracy and a Cleisthenes is needed to set it up in Athens. Even Cleisthenes himself is somehow associated with tyranny through his kinship bond with Cleisthenes the tyrant of Sicyon: Herodotus mentions three times that Cleisthenes of Sicyon was the maternal grandfather of Cleisthenes of Athens (5.67.1, 69.1; 6.131.1) and explicitly connects aspects of their policies.85 Not only do the Ionians decide to maintain their tyrannies under Persian rule, but they even lie ( for the second time) to their potential ‘liberators’, as it were, the Scythians. They merely dismantle a small part of the bridge on the Scythian side to make the Scythians think they comply with their offer and to disable them from crossing and pursuing the Persians. In addition to this, they have Histiaeus make a deceitful speech to mask their true purpose: the Scythians should not worry as everything is going according to plan and to their shared benefit; the Ionians want to be free (θέλοντες εἶναι ἐλεύθεροι), and the Scythians should chase the Persians now and take revenge for the Ionians too (4.139). The Scythians mistakenly trust them once again and the Ionians, as soon as they hear from Darius, quickly rebuild the bridge and help the Persians to cross safely (4.140–1). In the context, the Scythian comment that the Ionians make the worst free people but the best slaves (4.142)86 seems perfectly justified. Self-interest, lying, and rejection of freedom are all preliminary signs of the distorted nature of Greek debate, as this is fleshed out especially in the last five books of the Histories. A great deal of political vocabulary features in this debate (4.137): tyranny (τυραννεύει, τυραννεύεσθαι), freedom (ἐλευθεροῦν), democracy (δημοκρατέεσθαι), rule (ἄρχειν), power (δυνάμιος). The accumulation of political terms—quite disproportionate to the brevity of the debate— shows what is, and anticipates what will be, at stake in the debates among the Greeks.

83 Cf. also the fight of the Medes against the Assyrians to gain their freedom, even if they do not enjoy it for long because their fair judge Deioces quickly turns into a tyrant (Hdt. 1.95–6). 84 But note that the truth of this statement is undercut by 7.99: Artemisia is said to be the queen of Halicarnassus, Cos, Nisyros, and Calymnos. Where are the democracies then? See ocd4 s.v. Artemisia (1). 85 The anti-Ionian policy of the younger Cleisthenes, who renamed the Athenian tribes, is compared with the anti-Dorian policy of the elder Cleisthenes who renamed the Dorian tribes to distinguish the Argives from the Sicyonians (Hdt. 5.67.1, 69.1). 86 On this comment, see further below, p. 260 and n. 92. 130 CHAPTER 2

The debilitating effects of tyranny and the desire for power connect the Danube bridge debate to the debate between the Spartans and their allies to reinstate the tyrant Hippias in Athens. Readers are invited to compare the Spartan attitude to tyrannical rule. If the Ionian tyrants can only be partly exculpated as they are committed to a different way of thinking, the Spartans have no excuse. It is worth examining what triggers this debate. The Spartans discovered that they were tricked by the Pythia who, at the instigation of the Alcmaeonids, made them expel their guest-friends the Peisistratids from Athens. As if this was not enough, the Athenians did not thank the Spartans for helping them to do away with tyranny. And on top of this, the Spartans became aware of certain oracles which predicted that the Athenians would do many terrible things to them (5.90). Herodotus adds that the Spartans were concerned due to the growth of Athens (5.91.1: τοὺς Ἀθηναίους ὥρων αὐξομένους)87 and its unwillingness to submit to them (5.91.1: οὐδαμῶς ἑτοίμους ἐόντας πείθεσθαι σφίσι). So they conceive of a plan: a free Athens could become a dangerous rival for Sparta, but a tyrant would make Athens weak and keep it in check (5.91.1).88 For that reason they recall Hippias from Sigeum and summon a conference of their allies. The purpose of the debate is evidently flawed: they ask for common consent to stifle freedom in a Greek city; they call a free debate to disallow Athens any future free debate. They explain everything to the allies (5.91.2–3):89 that they got lying divinations and kicked out their friends who would make Athens subject to them (ἀναδεκομένους ὑποχειρίας παρέξειν τὰς Ἀθήνας), that Athenians are, nevertheless, ungrateful (δήμῳ ἀχαρίστῳ)90 and expelled the Spartans and Cleomenes from their country.91 The main thing that causes the Spartans disquiet is the increase of Athens’ power and pride (δόξαν δὲ φύσας

87 Cf. 5.78: ἀπαλλαχθέντες δὲ τυράννων μακρῷ πρῶτοι ἐγένοντο; 5.66.1: Ἀθῆναι, ἐοῦσαι καὶ πρὶν μεγάλαι, τότε ἀπαλλαχθεῖσαι τυράννων ἐγένοντο μέζονες. 88 ἐλεύθερον μὲν ἐὸν τὸ γένος τὸ Ἀττικὸν ἰσόρροπον τῷ ἑωυτῶν ἂν γίνοιτο, κατεχόμενον δὲ ὑπὸ τυραννίδος ἀσθενὲς καὶ πειθαρχέεσθαι ἕτοιμον. 89 Although it has been argued that this Spartan speech is made by Cleomenes (e.g. Pelling 2006c: 106–8), this is not supported by the text, which states explicitly that the speakers are the Spartans (cf. de Ste. Croix 2004: 224). 90 Pelling (2006c: 107) notes the correspondence between the Athenian ungrateful demos and the description of the demos by Megabyxus and Darius in the Constitutional Debate (3.80–2), concluding “[t]hat Persian debate led inevitably to Persian tyranny; now Cleomenes sees things similarly, and the echoes give an unsettling hint that Sparta has leanings in the same direction”. 91 That they present their plan as justified revenge over the ungrateful Athenians resonates with Mardonius and Xerxes justifying their expedition against Greece on the basis of Debates 131

αὐξάνεται).92 Not only do the Spartans present themselves as the innocent vic- tims who were blatantly deceived, but they also try to put their concern about their own power in more altruistic terms. They basically say: “we do not just worry about us, but about all the other Greeks; you saw what the Boeotians and Chalcidians suffered at the hands of the Athenians”. Equally emotionally powerful is the appeal to the allies to help them correct their previous mistake of letting Athens go free. While the Spartans place emphasis on the joint decision and action (κοινῷ τε λόγῳ καὶ κοινῷ στόλῳ “unified counsel and power”), their proposal is put forward as an action already decided upon—and Hippias is already present with them. Although the Spartans are trying to disguise their purpose, reassuring their allies that they are acting justly and in their common interest, self-centred motives are constantly brought forward and blended with seemingly idealistic strands. Behind this pretence we cannot fail to notice that Sparta is trying to establish its own power over others in the manner of a tyrant.93 This impression is buttressed by the subsequent reaction of the allies, which clearly shows that the debate is conducted in fear of censorship. They are invited to speak their views—this is the proclaimed purpose of the conference. But, although they expressively disagree, no one dares to speak freely apart from the Corinthian Socles.94 Socles’ speech is a tirade against tyranny, repeating time and again words from the ‘tyranny’ family, framed by the freedom vocabulary of chapters 5.91 (e.g. ἐλεύθερον) and 5.93 (ἐλευθέρως). Only after his speech do the allies dare to express their discontent (5.93.2), and thus balance is restored to the debate. Socles aims to show the evil nature of tyranny, as the Corinthians have experi-

punishment of enemies who have harmed the Persians (Mardonius: 7.5.2, 9.1–2; 8.100.3; 9.58.4—Xerxes: 7.8α.2–β.3, 8γ.3). 92 For Thucydides, this was the real cause of the Peloponnesian War (1.88). 93 Cf. the notion of the ‘tyrant city’ later applied to Athens, e.g. in Thuc. 2.63.3; 3.37.2; 6.85.1; Ar. Knights 1113–14. 94 See Hdt. 5.92.1: οἱ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγον, τῶν δὲ συμμάχων τὸ πλῆθος οὐκ ἐνεδέκετο τοὺς λόγους. οἱ μέν νυν ἄλλοι ἡσυχίην ἦγον, Κορίνθιος δὲ Σωκλέης ἔλεξε τάδε. Though the Spartans are already campaigning with Peloponnesian forces earlier (5.74), this occasion could stand as the foundation of the Peloponnesian League as it is the first recorded instance of the consultation of the allies by Sparta (cf. How and Wells 1912: 50–1; Johnson 2001: 7–8 n. 17). The point is critical since already at the very beginning a Spartan initiative is met with disapproval by the allies: the Spartans cannot do whatever they wish without asking for permission. 132 CHAPTER 2 enced it,95 to the Spartans, who have had no direct experience of living under a tyranny. He opens up his speech with an effective exaggeration: abolishing equality before the law for the sake of tyranny is like turning the universe upside-down; the earth and sky will exchange places, and men will be living in the sea while fish will reside on land. There is nothing more unjust or blood- thirsty than tyranny (5.92α.1: τοῦ οὔτε ἀδικώτερόν ἐστι οὐδὲν κατ᾽ ἀνθρώπους οὔτε μιαιφονώτερον). If the Spartans think this is such a good idea, they should go ahead and try it for themselves before they impose it on anyone else. Socles goes on to expose Spartan self-interest: “you have taken special care that tyranny will never happen in Sparta but you do not bother about your allies” (5.92α.1–2). He then relates the troubles the Corinthians suffered at the hands of the Cypselids.96 Deception, cruelty, sexual excess, injustice and waste of grain, men and textiles feature in the stories in a combination of historical and folkloric elements.97 Scholars have detected associations between Sparta and tyranny in Socles’ Cypselus paradigm.98 There is a potential hint of such a connection in the role that guest-friendship plays in the Periander story too. Although not explicitly stated here, xenia between Thrasybulus and Periander (1.20) is the reason why the latter sends a messenger to the former to ask for advice on how to rule best, and as a result Periander’s reign becomes extremely harsh (5.92ζ.1). Another xeinos of Periander appears in Socles’ speech: a xeinos who had left Periander a deposit, about which Periander consults the nekyomanteion in

95 See also Barker (2009: 160): “The very fact that he can speak in this assembly illustrates the benefit of their newly won freedom that the overthrow of tyrannical government has brought his city (5.92.β–η)”. 96 The speech has been considered inept, irrelevant to the occasion and not at all historical, but a mere chance to tell stories (see Macan 1895: 235–6, 242; How and Wells 1912: 51; cf. Schmid and Stählin 1934: 603 n. 2, 605 and n. 2; Pohlenz 1937: 214; Andrewes 1956: 47; Waters 1971: 14; van der Veen 1996: 71–86; Forsdyke 2002: 542–5). But see Johnson 2001 and Moles 2007 on how well this speech suits the context. In describing the vices of tyranny, Socles’ speech acquires an additional paradigmatic function: it exemplifies Otanes’ comments on the evil nature of tyrants (3.80). 97 See Gray 1995: 186–7. On the similarities between the stories of Cypselus, Cyrus and Periander, see Gray 1996: 367–77. On elements common to stories of the rise of new rulers (e.g. Moses, Perseus, Romulus and Remus, Sargon of Akkad), see Hornblower 1987: 17; Murray 19932: 147–9. On Herodotean adaptation to fit the specific context, see Fornara 1983: 165. On Herodotean adaptation specifically in Cypselus’ story, see e.g. Gray 1996: 372–6; cf. Johnson 2001: 13–14, 16; Moles 2007: 259. 98 Sparta represents baby Cypselus and the allies represent the Bacchiads: see Gray 1996: 383–4; Johnson 2001: 3–8, 14–15; Moles 2007: 251, 254–5. Debates 133

Thesprotia (5.92η.2). This has a huge amount to do with Sparta. Friendships with foreign tyrants can be dangerous: the friendship of the Peisistratids (5.91.2: ἄνδρας ξείνους ἐόντας ἡμῖν) can be hazardous for the Spartans, just as the friendship of Thrasybulus proved hazardous for the Corinthians. Herodotus in fact indirectly connects the Peisistratids with the Cypselids through a place, Sigeum, which thus performs a symbolic function.99 Sigeum is the refuge of the Peisistratids where Hippias goes into exile (5.91), as well as the place that the Athenians take by committing their dispute with the Mytileneans to the arbi- tration of Periander (5.95.2). Earlier in the narrative, the Spartans had unsuccessfully attempted to set up Isagoras, a xeinos of Cleomenes (5.70.1), as a tyrant in Athens. All this references ahead to the Spartan speech at Athens at the end of book 8, when the Spartans say that tyrants work together with tyrants (8.142.5)—this will become again relevant in chapter 3. In a sense Socles warns both the Spartans about the dangers of working with tyrants and the allies about Sparta acting in a despotic manner. He further reminds the allies that only tyrants work with tyrants. If they cooperate with Hippias now, the allies themselves will be no different. Other links suggest for the extratextual audience a comparison between Athens, which rose to super-power status and was called a ‘tyrant city’,100 and Cypselus, or between Pericles and Cypselus. As regards the latter, the oracle that describes the birth of Cypselus as the birth of a lion in particular recalls another oracle in book 6 which also likens Pericles to a lion (6.131.2).101 The text underpins these complementary and contrasting readings and makes them equally possible. It may even support a strictly pragmatic view that sees Socles’ speech as propaganda for the sake of Corinth, thus balancing the propaganda performed by the Spartans at the opening of the debate. A strong democratic Athens would serve the Corinthians as a counterweight to Aegina, Corinth’s rival in commerce. It is also very likely that if Athens were to become subject to Sparta, Corinthian liberty would be in danger as well.102 Socles finishes his speech by begging the Spartans in the name of the Greek gods not to impose tyranny on Greek cities; if they do, the Corinthians at least will resist them (5.92η.5). We have already seen the Corinthians opposing the

99 As Simon Hornblower points out to me. Cf. the comparable symbolic role of Atarneus in the story of Hermotimus, on which see Hornblower 2003. 100 See above, p. 131 n. 93. 101 The comparison between Pericles and Cypselus is supported by Thucydides saying that Athens was only by name a democracy while in reality Pericles held the power (2.65.9). See also Gray 1996: 385–8; Pelling 2006c: 108. 102 See Macan 1895: 242; How and Wells 1912: 51. 134 CHAPTER 2

Spartans once: in the flashback to the Athenian affairs, the Corinthians are said to have abandoned Cleomenes’ expedition to make Isagoras tyrant of Athens because they considered it unjust (5.75.1: οὐ ποιοῖεν τὰ δίκαια). The allies then followed the Corinthians—their decision was facilitated by the discord between the Spartan kings (5.75.3: τούς τε βασιλέας τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων οὐκ ὁμολογέοντας). Passage 5.75 is dragged implicitly into the play of meaning (possibly through the repetition of δίκαιον)103 and draws a close analogy: the earlier resignation of the allied troops demonstrated that the allies did not wish to support the Spartan enterprise, at least not without the Corinthians; why, then, should they support it now, since the Corinthians are not willing to do so? Whether Socles hopes that the allies will once again do as the Corinthians or not, readers are encouraged to contemplate that possibility. And so are the Spartans—is it not the same thing that they are asking the allies to do this time? The free speech of Socles brings freedom into prominence again, making the decision that of the majority. The allies urge the Spartans not to tamper with the affairs of any Greek city (5.93.2).104 As Barker puts it, “[t]he episode ends with freedom affirmed and attempts at suppressing it by means of despotic government resisted by the very means by which the Spartans had hoped to exercise control—through the assembly”.105 That may be so. Still, the emphasis lies on the interference of a single person, Socles, who both brings out the absurd purpose of the debate and helps the participants remember that this is actually a debate and for a debate to function properly everyone must contribute their opinion without any restrictions—otherwise there will be restrictions in the near future. If one presses things further, the whole idea of this debate becomes highly questionable. We end up with a series of interrelated questions. Would there even be a Peloponnesian War if Socles had not made that speech, or if the Spartans had acted tyrannically and imposed their decision upon the allies? Is freedom always beneficial? What about the relationship between Corinth and Athens on the eve of the Peloponnesian War? The Corinthians would probably have wished never to have defended the freedom of the Athenians. Hippias points this out after the speech of Socles: “the day would come when the Corinthians, troubled by the Athenians, would long for the Peisistratids”

103 Cf. 5.92α.1: τοῦ οὔτε ἀδικώτερόν ἐστι οὐδέν; 5.92η.5: παρὰ τὸ δίκαιον; 5.75.1: οὐ ποιοῖεν τὰ δίκαια. 104 ἐπείτε δὲ Σωκλέος ἤκουσαν εἴπαντος ἐλευθέρως, ἅπας τις αὐτῶν φωνὴν ῥήξας αἱρέετο τοῦ Κορινθίου τὴν γνώμην, Λακεδαιμονίοισί τε ἐπεμαρτύροντο μὴ ποιέειν μηδὲν νεώτερον περὶ πόλιν Ἑλλάδα. 105 See Barker 2009: 161. Debates 135

(5.93.1).106 We shall shortly turn to book 8 and some strong hints of the tense relationships between Corinth and Athens we find in the quarrel between Themistocles and Adeimantus at Salamis.107 A debate summoned for the wrong purpose finally works with the help of Socles, whose speech shows that freedom itself is here in question, and puts across the conflicting interests of Greek cities and the fight of the major Greek cities for dominance. His speech represents the multiple faces of the sensitive balance among the members of the Greek confederacy and plays a central part in a debate where the allies of the Spartans are in effect fighting for their right to discuss and dissent. On another level, Socles’ speech may be taken to also represent the clashing advantages of the Greek cities it endeavours to communicate. Even if the Spartan argument that they do not want any Greeks to suffer (including losing their freedom) on account of the Athenians is disingenuous—which it probably is—and even if Socles is able to perceive this, it is surprisingly telling that apart from a brief invocation of the Greek gods (5.92η.5: ἐπικαλεόμενοι ὑμῖν θεοὺς τοὺς Ἑλληνίους), he evades any reference to communality and Greek freedom and reduces the topic of the debate to the narrow, local freedom of the individual poleis. Likewise, Socles’ audience seems to be thinking in narrow terms.

2.4.1.2 Opposing Opinions Neglected: Aristagoras and Hecataeus Debating in the Persian Way The picture of Aristagoras, Histiaeus’ deputy tyrant of Miletus, calling for meetings of his supporters in book 5 resembles that of Xerxes summoning councils in books 7 and 8. Xerxes calls for advice but rejects proposals that contest his own view—and often these are the best—as he does what he thinks is right. Subsequently, the Great King walks straight into disaster. The similarities with Aristagoras’ case are striking. Aristagoras calls two meetings where all his supporters are said to agree with him apart from Hecataeus, whose advice is nevertheless disregarded twice. The first conference comes about when Aristagoras ponders a revolt from the Persians. Having failed to deliver Naxos to Darius and everything else that he promised Artaphrenes, and having just received a message from Histiaeus

106 On Hippias’ words hinting at the events that led to the Peloponnesian War, see Strasburger 1955: 12, 18–19; Wȩcowski 1996: 237–51; Dewald 2003: 31. 107 Note that Herodotus draws attention to Socles’ Corinthian origin by making the adjective Κορίνθιος precede his name. On the significance of the position of adjectives in Herodotus, see Dik 1997 (note esp. the conclusion on p. 76: “When the adjective is contrastive or otherwise the most salient element of a noun phrase, it will be preposed”). 136 CHAPTER 2

(engraved on the head of a slave) urging him to revolt (5.35), Aristagoras calls his supporters together to set out his views and tell them about Histiaeus’ message (5.36). This Herodotus states in a manner reminiscent of Persian conferences as he comments that Aristagoras initiates the meeting to lay down his plan: ἐκφήνας τήν τε ἑωυτοῦ γνώμην (5.36.1). The number of interlocutors is limited to Aristagoras’ followers and we would not expect otherwise as he is still a tyrant. Everyone but Hecataeus countenances revolt against the Persians. Again, we would obviously expect the supporters of a tyrant to back him up, but this is hardly the proper purpose of a debate. Dissent is voiced by Hecataeus, who argues at first that Darius rules over a great number of nations and has immense power. Being a geographer himself, Hecataeus is in a position to list the subjects and resources of the Persian empire—although no more information is given in the text.108 When this argument fails, Hecataeus resorts to the second best: they need to become masters of the sea. He suggests using the treasure from the temple at Branchidae, dedicated by Croesus, to construct ships (5.36.2–3). His advice is not taken, because this is not what Aristagoras wants—as we are led to think. Given the pressing circumstances, there is no time to waste because Aristagoras’ trouble with the Persians would very likely cost him his tyranny (5.35.1)—would it not be better if he abdicated it himself, allegedly for a higher purpose? So Aristagoras goes ahead to materialize what he planned all along. It has been suggested that Hecataeus fulfils here—as well as in the next debate—the role of the wise adviser,109 a character very often related with Eastern monarchs and who usually warns about an impending disaster. This fits in well with the failure of the Ionian revolt, its altogether unfavourable depiction in the Histories,110 and Aristagoras’ bad ending (he was killed at the hands of the Thracians: 5.126.2). For one thing, we have seen that, in the context of debates, Herodotus often chooses to report or expatiate on the views he considers best, and this may well be the case with Hecataeus.111

108 As Rood (2006: 295) proposes, “perhaps because he [i.e. Herodotus] has already given a long account of the Persian empire on Darius’ accession: 3.89–96”. 109 See e.g. Lattimore 1939. 110 I do not imply that Herodotus displays any partisanship. Αs mentioned elsewhere (see above, p. 4 and n. 14), the author appears to be generally unprejudiced. What does become clear throughout the narrative is that he considered the Ionian revolt an unwise enterprise which brought about the Persian threat against Athens and Greece (cf. Hdt. 5.97.3, 105; 6.94). 111 See above, pp. 57–8. Debates 137

Hecataeus’ suggestion looks forward to Themistocles’ advice to the Athenians to exploit the money from the mines of Laurium to make ships (7.144.1).112 Perhaps Herodotus leads readers to think that Hecataeus’ advice might have been as successful as Themistocles’, and it is also significant that the result of the Ionian revolt was decided at a sea-battle at Lade. Another view may cast Hecataeus’ advice as less wise and far more problematic: advocat- ing using sacred dedications may be taken as a religious offence, a hierosulia.113 Whatever the case, the fact remains that there is virtually no point in having a discussion since Aristagoras has already made up his mind. When the Persians start taking the Ionian cities one by one and things are looking bad, Aristagoras searches for an escape route. He convenes another conference, where he suggests they should find a place of refuge in case they are ever thrown out of Miletus, and offers two options: he could establish a colony in either Sardinia or Myrcinus—the latter already walled by Histiaeus. Herodotus dismisses the opinion of the rest of the supporters only to report Hecataeus’ view, which once again opposes Aristagoras’. Hecataeus counter- suggests Leros, which would later grant Aristagoras easier access to Miletus. But Aristagoras votes for Myrcinus and the debate is quickly wrapped up (5.124–6). There are several points to raise here. First and foremost, although Aristagoras officially—still allegedly as Herodotus points out—114abdicated his tyranny in favour of popular government straight after the previous council (5.37.2: λόγῳ μετεὶς τὴν τυραννίδα ἰσονομίην ἐποίεε τῇ Μιλήτῳ), he still acts like a tyrant.115 He ostensibly calls for other opinions, but he is not receptive to any counterproposal and already has a plan. He actually invites the supporters to choose between the two alternatives he himself thinks most appropriate. Not only Herodotus but even Aristagoras still conceives of himself as a sort of a

112 Or even to Thucydidean passages where temple treasure and war are joined together, such as the Syracusan defeat by the Athenians (6.70–1) (see Lateiner 1982: 147; Kallet 2001: 92; Munson 2007: 160 [part of the comparison between Athens and Miletus]), or Pericles’ advice to the Athenians at the start of the Peloponnesian War (2.13) (on the comparison between Hecataeus’ idea and Pericles’ advice, see West 1991: 156; pace Kurke 2011: 379). 113 See Kurke 2011: 379; cf. West 1991: 156 (note her remark “But undeniably this innovative proposal reminds us of Hecataeus’ character for impatience with traditional religious ideas”). 114 This may well be focalized by Aristagoras too. 115 Note that Herodotus calls Aristagoras a tyrant when he visits Cleomenes at 5.49.1: ὁ Μιλήτου τύραννος. He also has Aristagoras refer to himself (through his messenger) as a tyrant at 5.98.2: ὁ Μιλήτου τύραννος. Cf. also Nenci 1994: 222. On the puzzling meaning of the word λόγῳ in 5.37.2, see Hornblower 2013: 144–5. 138 CHAPTER 2 leader and potentially the tyrant of a new colony. The refuge for him and the supporters is fast transformed into a new settlement and Aristagoras into its founder. Both places Aristagoras has in mind bear strong tyrannical connotations. Munson116 has ably shown that Italy is the land where colonization meets tyranny, while Myrcinus was gifted by Darius to Histiaeus to found a new city whose leader would obviously be Histiaeus (5.23.2–3). Even Hecataeus’ advice is this time focused on Aristagoras’ interests. Further hints of despotic behaviour may be detected on a lexical level and in the use of singular verb forms— also used for Eurybiades and Xerxes—in both conferences.117 Aristagoras follows his heart, goes to Myrcinus and gets killed (5.126.2). Had he heeded Hecataeus’ advice things could have perhaps turned out differently—it is possible that Herodotus includes Hecataeus’ advice in both cases to highlight the bad ending as a result of neglecting good advice.118 In neither case is Hecataeus’ opinion adopted, but then again both debates take place under rules that recall monarchical ways. These debates are summoned for strictly opportunistic purposes, to sort out Aristagoras’ present and future situations.

2.4.1.3 Artemisium and Salamis: Dissonance, Irresolution and Themistocles’ Offstage Policy Nowhere is the flexible and dynamic atmosphere of Greek debate more manifest than in Salamis. Freedom allows dissonance of opinions, which is reflected in debates interrupted (8.56) and resummoned to revise decisions (8.74), or even in verbal attacks (8.59–63). In such a riotous atmosphere Herodotus emphasizes the impossibility of debate among the Greeks, which makes Themistocles’ interference essential.119 Themistocles’ role is thus over-stressed,

116 See Munson 2006. 117 See Hdt. 5.36.1, 124.2: ἐβουλεύετο; 5.126.1: αὐτῷ δὲ Ἀρισταγόρῃ ἡ πλείστη γνώμη ἦν ἐς τὴν Μύρκινον ἀπάγειν. 118 Cf. Lang 1968: 33; West 1991: 156–7. But see Kurke (2011: 377–80), who suggests that Hecataeus’ designation as λογοποιός in 5.125 and in 5.36 bears negative connotations; note esp. p. 378: “[these] are both scenes of deliberation and public speaking connected to the Ionian Revolt (and so both partake of the same ‘oratorical’ context in which logopoios occurs as a derogatory term in Thucydides and throughout the fourth century) . . . in both contexts, there is something a little odd or off about the specific advice Hecataeus is made to proffer”; and p. 380: “All this suggests that the term logopoios may already have been a problematic one in Herodotus’s time, implying both dubious truth value and disreputable social or moral status, and not therefore a designation Herodotus would necessarily have welcomed for himself”. 119 On sham debates at Salamis, see Pelling 1997a: 56–8. Debates 139 but he is also held responsible for the debates lacking a sense of achievement. In the end, we get the desirable outcome at the expense of open debate and parrhesia. Artemisium looks like a pre-play of what is at stake at Salamis, and Themistocles’ activity there prepares the way for his master intervention in the Salamis debates. At Artemisium the circumstances are grave—and comparable to those at Salamis: upon arriving at Artemisium and seeing the size of the Persian fleet docked at Aphetae, the Greeks are terrified and deliberate over leaving Artemisium and moving to the inner parts of Greece (8.4.1).120 As soon as the Euboeans get wind of that, they beg Eurybiades to delay the departure of the fleet a little longer so that they have enough time to move the children and civilians away to a safe place. Unable to convince him, the Euboeans turn next to the Athenian general, Themistocles, and bribe him with thirty talents to arrange that the Greeks stay and fight the Persians at Artemisium in defence of Euboea (8.4.2). The Euboeans’ desire for a battle at Artemisium touches upon the theme of disunity of the Greek forces in a double way. On the one hand, it emphasizes the self-serving motivation of the Euboeans who are not really interested in the Greek cause. On the other hand, a fight at Artemisium is the only way to keep the Greek fleet together and enforce unity. If the Greeks do not fight at Artemisium, they will disperse in central Greece.121 Themistocles manages to keep the Greeks united through backstage machi- nations: he undercuts the deliberation process by using a part of the Euboean money to buy Eurybiades and Adeimantus off in order to stay at Artemisium (8.5). On Eurybiades Themistocles tries the argument that the money is a personal gift. To Adeimantus he says that the money he will give him to remain outweighs the money the Persian king would ever give him to abandon the Greeks. Although the final decision is manipulated, everyone is at length sat- isfied (the Euboeans, Eurybiades, Adeimantus and Themistocles himself ) and, most importantly, the Greek coalition retains its cohesion.122 Moreover, Eurybiades and Adeimantus think that the money comes from Athens, which could potentially prove to be a very clever move in terms of Athenian external policy.

120 καταρρωδήσαντες δρησμὸν ἐβούλευον ἀπὸ τοῦ Ἀρτεμισίου ἔσω ἐς τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 121 See Adeimantus’ firm decision to withdraw from Artemisium (Hdt. 8.5.1). 122 This gains yet more weight if read against the immediate narrative context, passage 8.3.1 in particular where Herodotus praises concord vs. civil strife (see Baragwanath 2008: 293). 140 CHAPTER 2

The model introduced in Artemisium is fully developed at Salamis,123 and provides an intratextual template for better understanding the dynamics of debate there. Fear, Persian numbers, Themistocles, Adeimantus, Eurybiades and backstage policy are present at Salamis too. Themistocles undeniably plays the most significant part in the narrative and the triumph of the Greeks over the Persians happens because of him. His intervention in the Greek debates produces a range of intriguing effects. The generals from the Greek cities that support the common cause gather at Salamis for a conference on where they should fight the Persians. The majority and the Peloponnesians vote for a sea-battle at the Isthmus, which would enable them to defend the Peloponnese, but in the course of the discussion they learn that the Persians have invaded and are burning Attica (8.49–50). Disturbed by the news, some generals depart before the end of the discussion and those remaining decide to fight at the Isthmus (8.56).124 But as soon as the conference finishes, the Athenian Mnesiphilus points out to Themistocles in private that Salamis is a better choice because it would deter fragmentation of the Greek forces. This advice triggers Themistocles’ active involvement in the debates and decision-making from now on. That Themistocles assumes Mnesiphilus’ advice for himself when addressing Eurybiades in private (8.58.2: ἑωυτοῦ ποιεύμενος), is a first indication of his underhand methods.125 When Themistocles convinces Eurybiades to call another council to reconsider the decision of the Greeks, he himself oversteps the limits and violates the rules of debate: he does not let Eurybiades lay the purpose of the council before the generals but bursts into a heated speech.126

123 Bowie (2007: 93) also notes the correspondence. 124 See Hdt. 8.56: ἐς τοσοῦτον θόρυβον ἀπίκοντο ὥστε ἔνιοι τῶν στρατηγῶν οὐδὲ κυρωθῆναι ἔμενον τὸ προκείμενον πρῆγμα, ἀλλ᾽ ἔς τε τὰς νέας ἐσέπιπτον καὶ ἱστία ἀείροντο ὡς ἀποθευσόμενοι· τοῖσί τε ὑπολειπομένοισι αὐτῶν ἐκυρώθη πρὸ τοῦ Ἰσθμοῦ ναυμαχέειν. 125 According to Plutarch (On the Malice of Herodotus 869d–f ), Herodotus uses Mnesiphilus in order to “deprive Themistocles of the credit for persuading the allies to remain and fight at Salamis”. How and Wells (1912: 254) attribute the incident to the “prejudice of Herodotus’ Attic informants”. Hignett (1963: 204) likewise considers the episode between Themistocles and Mnesiphilus “a spiteful invention to deprive Themistocles of the credit for his originality and insight”. On the other hand, Fornara (1971a: 72 n. 19) argues that the mention of Mnesiphilus gives “dramatic emphasis to the crucial moment at Salamis”. I agree more with Fornara on the basis that Herodotus’ treatment of Themistocles does not seem polemical. See also Thompson (1996: 92): “In the final analysis, the source of the wise advice would not seem to matter, so long as it receives a genuine hearing; this is truth-telling of the most vigorous sort”. On Mnesiphilus, cf. also Frost 1971: 20–5. 126 See Hdt. 8.59: πρὶν ἢ τὸν Εὐρυβιάδην προθεῖναι τὸν λόγον τῶν εἵνεκα συνήγαγε τοὺς στρατηγούς, πολλὸς ἦν ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ἐν τοῖσι λόγοισι οἷα κάρτα δεόμενος. Debates 141

At this point Adeimantus intervenes to restore order to the debate and point out that the proper attitude is for one to wait till their turn has come, like in the races, otherwise they get whipped (8.59). In this way, however, Adeimantus hampers Themistocles’ freedom to speak in an open debate. His insistence on speaking when one’s turn comes is also strongly reminiscent of the Persian way of conducting discussions. Themistocles passes over Adeimantus’ comment quickly with a mild answer127 and tries to persuade the allies and Eurybiades, using for the moment a more suitable strategic argument rather than fragmentation:128 if the Greeks with their inferior numbers fight in the narrows, the Persians will not be able to take advantage of their great numbers (8.60α–γ).129 Adeimantus reacts again, this time only to deprive Themistocles of his right to speak. Not only does he interrupt Themistocles’ speech, but he also insults Themistocles by saying he has to find himself a city before he has any right to vote and offer advice (8.61.1).130 Themistocles puts him in his place, emphasizing that the Corinthian fleet is nothing in comparison to the Athenian, which cannot possibly be beaten by the Greeks (8.61.2).131 This argument opens the way for Themistocles’ subsequent threat of the fragmentation of the forces: the ships will judge the outcome of this war

127 See Hdt. 8.59–60.1: οἱ δέ γε ἐγκαταλειπόμενοι οὐ στεφανοῦνται. τότε μὲν ἠπίως [πρὸς] τὸν Κορίνθιον ἀμείψατο “ ‘But those who get left behind win no prizes’. At that point, his response to the Corinthian was moderate”. The use of the word τότε (8.60.1) signals in the form of a prolepsis the continuation of the insults, this time vehemently, at 8.61. 128 See 8.60.1: παρεόντων γὰρ τῶν συμμάχων οὐκ ἔφερέ οἱ κόσμον οὐδένα κατηγορέειν. 129 The same logic, i.e. to turn the great size of the Persian army to the Persians’ disadvantage, lies behind the decision to fight at the straits of Thermopylae (Thermopylae anticipates—and supports—Themistocles’ argument). 130 σιγᾶν τε κελεύων τῷ μή ἐστι πατρὶς καὶ Εὐρυβιάδην οὐκ ἐῶν ἐπιψηφίζειν ἀπόλι ἀνδρί. Bowie (2007: 149) observes that Adeimantus’ comment here as well as Timodemus’ comment in 8.125 foreshadow that Themistocles will soon lose his city. 131 The episode between Themistocles and Adeimantus is very much reminiscent of the scene between Thersites and Odysseus in Iliad 2.212–69 (although Plutarch’s variation of the story with Eurybiades’ attempted striking, discussed below, is much closer to the Iliadic scene). The resemblance corroborates the broader analogy between the Greek debate before Salamis and the one in Iliad 2, on which see briefly Pelling 2006b: 83–4. Bowie (2007: 144–5) notes the similarities in the chain of events and the instrumental role played by Odysseus and his Herodotean equivalent, Themistocles, and observes that intertextuality adds to the importance of the scene. Barker (2009: 163–72), on the other hand, highlights the importance of the divergences between the Iliadic and Herodotean scenes in terms of the ways the narrators compose the debate (for him the intertextual parallel emphasizes Herodotus’ different take on debate). Specifically on Themistocles as the Herodotean Odysseus, see e.g. Marincola 2007c: 30–1. 142 CHAPTER 2

(8.62.1: τὸ πᾶν γὰρ ἡμῖν τοῦ πολέμου φέρουσι αἱ νέες) and the Athenians will sail to Siris in Italy132 if the allies do not agree to fight at Salamis (8.62.2).133 He adds that Siris has long belonged to the Athenians and it has been prophesized that it must be colonized by Athenians. It is the Athenians’ (or Themistocles’) way or the highway. The Athenians will readily abandon the Greeks and start a new settlement if Eurybiades does not comply with Themistocles’ request. The debate is immediately cut short as Eurybiades gives in to the blackmail.134 After Themistocles’ threat Eurybiades’ freedom of choice is restricted and the decision taken is a forced one.135 Still, this is the only way to go about it as the chaotic atmosphere of the debate—reflected especially in the offensive comments exchanged between Adeimantus and Themistocles—renders it impossible for any discussion to be productive. If the Socles episode merely alludes to the tense relations between Athens and Corinth, here it all becomes clear with the implications such relations would carry for Herodotus and his contemporary readers. (Have the Corinthians already regretted defending Athenian freedom?) Plutarch’s version of the story furnishes a very fruitful point of comparison which suggests innovation in Herodotus’ telling of the episode. In Plutarch’s Themistocles 11.3 it is Eurybiades who insults Themistocles and even attempts to strike him with his staff. The same account occurs in all writers from Plutarch onwards. It is thus very likely that Herodotus intended to also involve Corinth in this game to increase the irony of the scene, create stronger contemporary affinities and strengthen the relevance of his paradigmatic narrative for the present and future.136

132 See Bowie (2007: 150): “Such a wholesale emigration was not implausible: the Phocaeans fled to the west to escape Persia in ca. 540 (1.163–7; cf. the Scythians in 4.118.2), Bias of Priene proposed a mass Ionian migration to Sardinia (1.170; cf. 5.124.2–126), and the Greeks consider abandoning Ionia and resettling the Ionians after Mycale (9.106.2–3)”. 133 Hohti (1976: 65) may be partly right in arguing that Herodotus’ intention is to stress the significance of the Athenian fleet and hence the superiority of Athens. However, to consider this as the only purpose narrows considerably the scope of interpretation. 134 Bowie (2007: 150) interestingly suggests that “perhaps for dramatic reasons, H. [i.e. Herodotus] has Eurybiades make the decision himself here; such decisions seem earlier to have been in the hands of the commanders generally”. 135 Cf. Bowie 2007: 149; Pelling (2006c: 112): “and if freedom carries the perpetual danger of fragmentation, if the possibility of choosing for oneself means that everyone can go their own way, we have the final paradox that it was the danger of fragmentation that imposed the victorious unity”. 136 Cf. also Baragwanath (2008: 308): “Plutarch’s [i.e. version] . . . diminishes the theme of persuasive rhetoric and so deprives it of much of Herodotus’ point”. This Herodotean Debates 143

But Themistocles has not won just yet. The news that the Greeks at the Isthmus are working on the wall brings about concern and discontent with Eurybiades’ decision, which lead to another conference about the same issue.137 The Greeks are again wavering between Salamis and the Isthmus. The Isthmus is about to prevail, at which point Themistocles sends a secret message to the Persians to inform them that the Greeks are planning to leave Salamis (8.74–5). While the Greeks are still having a debate and cannot make up their minds, Aristeides arrives and, after a brief conversation with Themistocles, announces to the council that they are surrounded by the Persian fleet. The news fuels further disagreement as the majority refuse to believe the truth of his report, until they receive confirmation by some Tenians; only then do the Greeks prepare to fight (8.78–83.1). Debate is once again faulty. The decision has already been taken before the Greeks even get to know that the Persian fleet has changed position. By trying to avert the undesirable outcome of the meeting, Themistocles undermines free debate through deceptive means.138 Yet the ones being tricked here are the Greeks—as Themistocles himself admits to Aristeides (8.80)—for the enemy is in fact being told the truth, that is, that the Greeks want to run away, and so things happen faster. After the Persian defeat at Salamis, Xerxes and the greatest part of the Persian forces, including the remainder of the fleet, head back to Asia. The Greeks chase the Persian fleet as far as Andros but, unable to catch sight of it, make a pause at the island to discuss their next move. This last Greek council of the Salamis account is the only case when we see freedom of speech and choice in practice as the view of the majority wins. Themistocles argues that the Greeks should pursue the Persians to the Hellespont and destroy the bridges. Eurybiades and the other Peloponnesian generals disagree. Themistocles loses the debate, but then convinces the Athenians that he also believes this is the best thing to do (8.108–9). Interestingly, in open, ‘un-travestied’ debate without artifice Themistocles loses. He seems to submit to the majority since he cannot make them change

scene as well as the Socles scene are remarkably similar to Thucydides 1.67–88 where Corinthians and Athenians speak in front of the Spartan arbitrators. 137 See Hdt. 8.74.2: ἕως μὲν δὴ αὐτῶν ἀνὴρ ἀνδρὶ παραστὰς σιγῇ λόγον ἐποιέετο, θῶμα ποιεύμενοι τὴν Εὐρυβιάδεω ἀβουλίην· τέλος δὲ ἐξερράγη ἐς τὸ μέσον. σύλλογός τε δὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ πολλὰ ἐλέγετο τῶν αὐτῶν. 138 The deceptive nature of Themistocles’ strategies here and in 8.56–8 is highlighted by the fact that all this happens at night, “a time regularly associated with cunning in Greek myth and ideology” as Bowie (2007: 144) notes. 144 CHAPTER 2 their mind,139 but even in this case he turns the debate to his advantage. There is always room for political manoeuvring as Themistocles now shifts and proclaims the opposite opinion to the Athenians (8.109.1: μεταβαλὼν πρὸς τοὺς Ἀθηναίους): their victory against the Persians was the work of the gods and heroes, not the Greeks; the Athenians should now look after themselves and their families (8.109.3–4).140 Herodotus attributes Themistocles’ treacherous behaviour to his trying to “lay the foundation for a future claim upon Xerxes, in order to have someone to turn to in the event of his getting into trouble with the Athenians” (8.109.5). Themistocles actually cancels out, or—to use milder language—undermines the preceding debate. Instead of informing the Athenians about the decision taken by the majority at the meeting, he presents this decision as his personal viewpoint. We are not unfamiliar with this feature of his, since he has already transmitted Mnesiphilus’ advice to Eurybiades as his own. In addition to this, Themistocles also deceives Xerxes through a message delivered by Sicinnus, which announces that Themistocles himself stopped the pursuit of the Persian armada by the Greeks (8.110.3). His secret communication with the Persians, as well as his subsequent attempts to take money from Andros and other islands with the threat that he will lead the Greek fleet against them (8.111–12)141 are strikingly ironic in view of his later career and end as related by Thucydides: Themistocles is accused of collaboration with the Persians, eventually flees to Persia and lives in the court of Artaxerxes receiving great honours (Thuc. 1.135–8). Themistocles succeeds (at Salamis in particular) not because the Greeks and Eurybiades see that he is right in his arguments, but because he uses other devices to serve his aims, like blackmail and secret messages. He does show interest in the common good, but he also serves the Athenian and his personal interests. His motivation thus emerges as a combination of selfishness and selflessness that is in perfect accordance with the Athenian character.142 Bowie

139 See Hdt. 8.109.1: ὡς δὲ ἔμαθε ὅτι οὐ πείσει τούς γε πολλοὺς πλέειν ἐς τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης . . . 140 On the rhetorical elaboration of this speech, see Bowie 2007: 198–200. 141 But cf. Bowie’s (2007: 202) slightly different interpretation: “This money-collecting expedition is characterised as private profit-making, but in reality may rather have been an attempt to generate funds to cover the very considerable costs of naval campaigning. Such money-gathering is a standard feature of Greek campaigns in the fifth and fourth centuries”. 142 Herodotus depicts Themistocles as a skilled orator, clever and insightful, but also a master trickster, self-interested and expert in rhetorical manipulation and backstage operations; his personality is a mix of idealism/patriotism and individualism. On Themistocles’ Debates 145 interprets along similar lines Themistocles’ second message to the Persians: “If this story of the second message were true . . ., Themistocles could have been acting quite cynically in his own interest, but equally he could have been playing a subtle diplomatic game, working hard for Greece whilst keeping chan- nels open to the Persians. This could have enabled him, after a Greek defeat, not only to justify himself to the Persians (as H. [i.e. Herodotus] suggests), but more particularly to influence Persian treatment of the defeated peoples”.143 The focus here lies on the series of contradictory conclusions: the plurality of dissident voices cannot make free, frank, open debate work effectively; Themistocles has to interfere, force and manipulate decisions, thereby abort- ing the function of debate;144 paradoxically, this is the only way for a debate to reach a conclusion and for unity to prevail.145 Especially in the case of Salamis (and to a lesser extent Themistocles’ volte face in 8.109), the need for other means in order for a debate to reach a decision, the vulnerability of debate to manipulation to ensure a desired decision and the readiness (and ability) of certain characters to manoeuvre in this way are key.

ambivalent character and behaviour in the Histories, see Fornara 1971a: 66–72. On his character as a reflection of Athenian character in the Persian and Peloponnesian Wars, see Immerwahr 1966: 223–5; Konstan 1987: 72; Munson 1988: 99–102; Blösel 2001; 2004 (rather than a blend of positive and negative features, Blösel sees a change from positive to negative in Themistocles’ attitude after the battle of Salamis). For a detailed and subtle exploration of Themistocles’ complex motivation in the Histories, see Baragwanath 2008: 289–322 (note esp. p. 318: “The emerging impression of Themistocles’ motivation is one of complexity and studied ambivalence, which encourages readers to engage with the issues and paradoxes involved”). Specifically on Themistocles’ skilled use of speech in the debates before the battle at Salamis, see de Bakker 2007: 107–13; Pelling 1997a: 57; 2006c: 110–12. On Themistocles as a trickster figure in Herodotus, see Dewald 1985: 53–5; cf. Bencsik 1994: 107–18. Cf. also Miltiades’ behaviour after Marathon discussed below, chs. 3 and 4. 143 See Bowie 2007: 200. Cf. also the alternative suggested by Baragwanath (2008: 314): we have “Themistocles there once again speaking the truth (about what he has achieved in persuading the Athenians) in order to deceive the King into an even more precipitate departure from Greece” (her italics). 144 Cf. also Munson (1988: 98): “democracy appears to be impossible among the Hellenes. These, unlike Xerxes’ allies, exercise their right to vote as free men, but Themistocles uses military force to reverse their decision”. 145 Cf. Baragwanath (2008: 294–5): “The Persian Wars are played out on a background of Greek disintegration: of foiled attempts by Sparta and Athens to win the support of other states. The failure of such direct appeals for unity leaves the impression that mētis [represented by Themistocles] may be indispensable in dealing with such wrangling collections of individuals and contrasting agendas”. 146 CHAPTER 2

The Persian parallels that Herodotus provides in the Salamis narrative bring to the fore the problematic nature of Greek debate all the more. The Persian discussions are not any more effective than the Greek, but their dynamics prove to be surprisingly different from what one would expect—we have already observed some rather subtle ‘democratic’ touches in the language framing Persian debates. Irresolution, confusion, pointless debates conducted under ignorance of circumstances, marginalization of debate, and the salutary, albeit slightly autocratic, role of Themistocles who infringes upon free debate: these are some of the major themes that dominate the Salamis narrative. Barker accurately observes that even “the critical strategy of staying to fight at Salamis is attributed to a meeting [between Mnesiphilus and Themistocles] that takes place external to the assembly: this is where the fate of the Greek coalition is decided: it is not decided . . . in the institution of formal debate”.146 The narrative of the events is shaped by Herodotus in such a way that bears out this picture of disorder, dissension and wrangling with three different versions describing the opening action of the battle—setting Athens against Aegina in particular (8.84).147

2.4.2 Persia 2.4.2.1 Persia Approaches Greece: The Constitutional Debate No study of Persian debate should fail to take into consideration the Constitutional Debate in book 3. The quasi-sophistic argumentation as well as features of the Greek intellectual trends and political thinking of the fifth century B.C. ingrained in the discussion148 is only one, rather superficial way to challenge the Greco-Persian polarity. Here I would like to emphasize the significance of the debate in seriously challenging the way Persian debates are perceived in relation to Greek debates and the representation of debate in Herodotus’ work generally.149

146 See Barker 2009: 166; cf. p. 168: “Herodotus shows far greater interest in the actions of individuals, particularly when they are operating outside an institutional framework” (individuals such as Themistocles and Aristeides). 147 Cf. the conflicting Athenian and Corinthian/Greek versions about Adeimantus’ conduct during the battle in 8.94. 148 See e.g. Wells 1907: 40; Lamb 1914: 133, 135; How and Wells 1928: 277–8; Kagan 1965: 69, 71; Evans 1981: 79–80, 83–4; Waters 1985: 78–9, 93 n. 8; Raaflaub 1989: 41; Gould 1989: 15; Lateiner 1989: 167; Fisher 1992: 346–9; Dawe 1982: 183. 149 On the relationship of the debate to the immediate and wider narrative context and its implications for the concept of monarchy/tyranny in Greece and Persia, see Pelling 2002. Debates 147

Having eliminated the Magus, the pretender who seized the Persian throne, for the first time the Persians are free to choose the best constitution for Persia. It is their only chance to get rid of monarchy, which apparently has not served them very well recently, and change regime. We are given the speeches of three out of the seven conspirators: Otanes’ for democracy, Megabyxus’ for oligarchy and Darius’ for monarchy. This is the first formal debate in the work where three people of the same background discuss what seems the most absurd matter within a traditionally monarchical society. And the final decision is a result of democratic procedures—democratic in the sense that the view of the majority prevails after four out of seven men take Darius’ side and monarchy wins.150 But things are not as simple as that. Darius chooses the right arguments and manages to get the conspirators on his side, whereas his interlocutors fail to see through the psychology and expectations of their audience. Indeed, Otanes’ suggestion of democracy sounds very radical. Moreover, his argument is not adequately supported; it only gives a vague idea of democracy, while it dwells on the drawbacks of monarchy. On the other hand, Megabyxus’ proposition that all seven conspirators should have their share in power sounds very sensible but is weakly defended with one sentence which rounds off his speech.151 And when Megabyxus states he prefers the rational rule of the king to the irrational mob (3.81.1–2),152 he essentially supports the very political system he opposes, monarchy. Neither Megabyxus nor Otanes are capable of fully understanding and adjusting Greek ideas to the Persian way of thinking, and presenting them as attractive and plausible alternatives.153 Furthermore, Otanes’ ideas about democracy are

150 The debate which decides that Deioces will be made king of the Medes (1.97.2–98.1) provides an interesting point of comparison. This debate is also democratic as the opinion of the majority prevails. Still, Deioces soon turns his rule into tyranny (1.98.2–100). 151 See Hdt. 3.81.3: ἀρίστων δὲ ἀνδρῶν οἰκὸς ἄριστα βουλεύματα γίνεσθαι “it is only natural to suppose that the best men will make the best decisions”. 152 ὁμίλου γὰρ ἀχρηίου οὐδέν ἐστι ἀξυνετώτερον οὐδὲ ὑβριστότερον. καίτοι τυράννου ὕβριν φεύγοντας ἄνδρας ἐς δήμου ἀκολάστου ὕβριν πεσεῖν ἐστὶ οὐδαμῶς ἀνασχετόν. ὁ μὲν γὰρ εἴ τι ποιέει, γινώσκων ποιέει, τῷ δὲ οὐδὲ γινώσκειν ἔνι· κῶς γὰρ ἂν γινώσκοι ὃς οὔτ᾽ ἐδιδάχθη οὔτε εἶδε καλὸν οὐδὲν [oὐδ’] οἰκήιον, ὠθέει τε ἐμπεσὼν τὰ πρήγματα ἄνευ νόου, χειμάρρῳ ποταμῷ ἴκελος; “Nothing is more foolish and violent than a useless mob. For men fleeing the insolence of a tyrant to fall victim to the insolence of the unguided populace is by no means to be tolerated. Whatever the one does, he does with knowledge, but for the other knowledge is impossible; how can they have knowledge those who have not learned or seen for themselves what is best, but always rush headlong and drive blindly onward, like a river in flood?” 153 Cf. Thompson 1996: 72, 75; Pelling 2002: 139–41. 148 CHAPTER 2 somewhat hazy. He limits the case to amongst the seven conspirators, excluding all other Persians,154 and when the conspirators decide on monarchy, he suggests that one of themselves should be the king (3.83.2).155 He then suggests that the king could be chosen in a democratic way, either by lot or elected by the Persian people, but goes on to claim protection for his family from the Persian rule (3.83.2). The cornerstone of Darius’ rhetoric is past experiences of the audience.156 Darius connects monarchy to the Persian tradition so that any other constitution would seem to violate their customs (3.82.5).157 Besides this, he relates monarchy to freedom (as in a nation’s freedom to dominate aliens) as he pointedly alludes to Cyrus, the liberator of the Persians from the Medes: “we were given our freedom by one man” (3.82.5: ἡμέας ἐλευθερωθέντας διὰ ἕνα ἄνδρα).158 Foreshadowing this, Hystaspes explicitly says to Cyrus in book 1: “you have made the Persians free instead of slaves and rulers of all instead of subjects” (1.210.2). The mention of the word freedom (ἐλευθερία) sounds inappropriate and daring in a speech in favour of monarchy, when not even Otanes uses it in his speech for democracy (he speaks of ἰσονομίη instead).159 However, it is the particular mention of freedom which secures the success of his speech: Darius makes it clear that monarchy has been, and still is, the only way for the Persians to secure their freedom, despite their recent experiences at the hands of the mad Cambyses and the deceitful Magi who usurped the throne. If we just focus on the very recent past and the brief dominance of the Median Magi,

154 See Hdt. 3.80.2: ἐμοὶ δοκέει ἕνα μὲν ἡμέων μούναρχον μηκέτι γενέσθαι “we should not have one of ourselves as monarch” (my italics). 155 δῆλα γὰρ δὴ ὅτι δεῖ ἕνα γέ τινα ἡμέων βασιλέα γενέσθαι. It is not clear, however, whether he is assuming that one of the seven will be elected, or he is presupposing that it would only be the seven whose names would be put forward for the election. 156 Cf. Thompson 1996: 72, 77; Pelling 2002: 145–8 (but cf. p. 145: “when taken in context, the rhetoric looks more flawed”). For an opposing view see Raaflaub (1989: 41): “Accordingly, the result of the debate, i.e. the victory of monarchy, is dictated by the historical context and has nothing to do with the actual debate”; Fisher 1992: 346. Both Raaflaub and Fisher argue that Darius’ arguments are neither better nor prevailing, but they are ultimately accepted as monarchy belongs to the Persian tradition; accordingly, there is no matter of changing constitution. Such a view, however, underestimates both the importance of debate and Herodotus’ artistry. 157 πατρίους νόμους μὴ λύειν ἔχοντας εὖ “we should not abolish our ancestral customs, which have served us well”. 158 Cf. Pelling 2002: 146. 159 For the importance of the word in Otanes’ speech, see Pelling 2002: 135–8. Debates 149 then the relevance of Darius’ argument about Persian freedom and rule over others increases considerably. After these ‘democratic’ procedures and the triumph of monarchy, Darius steamrolls free debate by using a ruse to win the throne for himself (3.85–7). Despite the fact that in his speech in the Constitutional Debate, Darius equates the best with the strongest (ἄριστον with κράτιστον), the neigh of a horse is not a reliable criterion for the appointment of a Persian king and the ἄριστος (‘excellent’) king is rather chosen at random. In Darius’ speech there also are markers which disclose its propagandistic qualities, such as the frequent use of verbs of revealing (φαίνω, διαδείκνυμι, θωμάζομαι, δηλόω) by him alone of the three speakers; “all this openness is meant to underline his secret intentions”.160 This is not the first time Darius acts like this. At 3.71, when the conspirators discuss their options, Darius uses blackmail to force his opinion: he will betray the conspiracy to the Magus if they do not act immediately (3.71.4–5).161 One should not forget either that Darius features in the work as the master per- former of deceit and the one to moralize its use to achieve one’s own advantage (3.72.4–5).162 This Persian debate works since the speakers exchange views, respond to each other’s points, and the view of the many wins the day. But the dynamics are essentially flawed because the Persians fail to understand the importance of this particular debate and defer to the power of one person.163 This automatically suspends any future chances of dissent, as only one will have absolute power. Herodotus uses this very formal and highly stylized discussion to adumbrate all debates to follow, both Greek and Persian: even when debate seems to function well, it almost always goes wrong. Malfunction often occurs due to the interference of an individual. In the same way Darius leads

160 See Benardete 1969: 86 n. 35, who also notes that “Herodotus introduces his [i.e. Darius’] speech with ἀπεδείκνυτο γνώμην, whereas the other two [i.e. speakers] are said to γνώμην έσφέρειν”. Cf. also the manipulation of sight by Thucydides’ Brasidas at the battle of Amphipolis to deceive the enemy (Thuc. 5.6–11) as well as the oversupply of verbs of sight, on which see Greenwood 2006: 26–33. 161 Cf. Otanes’ reaction: “since you compel us to rush, and you will not allow us a moment’s delay for deliberation, tells us how to get into the palace to attack” (3.72.1). See also Thompson (1996: 72): “In the debate scene, too, Darius impedes at every turn the uncertain and undirected nature of free discourse. Open debate is a risk he shuns, and he will manage and manipulate it rather than allow its unpredictable turns”. We have seen Themistocles also avoiding open debate at Andros (8.108–9), because without deceit he would lose his case. 162 Cf. above, pp. 26–7. 163 Cf. Thompson 1996: 77. 150 CHAPTER 2 things where they should be led—the Persians cannot escape monarchy simply because they do not know how to operate in any other institutional framework—through shortcuts, Themistocles brings debates and dissent to an end, also through shortcuts, and leads the Greeks to victory. Even Herodotus’ insistence that the debate actually happened (3.80.1: “things unbelievable to the Greeks”; cf. 6.43.3)—irrespective of the discussion over its actual historicity which misses much of the point—164seems to be deliberate. The author directs the focus of his readers on the importance of the debate and prompts them to start unpacking its role in the Histories165 with reference to their Greek status in particular.166 One crucial aspect is highlighted: the Persians do not know how to discuss, but they do try even if they fail in the end; and even the Greeks who know how to discuss still cannot do it properly. The Persians are tampering with notions they ignore, such as freedom and democracy, as well as oligarchy, whereas the Greeks know them well but fail to perform them successfully. Instead of doubting that the Persians could ever have tried to conduct such a debate, readers should think how they could put into better practice what they consider to be, but is not necessarily, their exclusive privilege.167

164 On Herodotus’ potential sources for the debate, see Wells 1907: 39–40; How and Wells 1928: 277; Lateiner 1989: 272 n. 12; Munson 2009. Moles (1993: 119–21) argues against the historicity of the debate. Hohti (1976: 32) argues for the historicity of the debate. In support of the historicity of the debate West (1999: 124 n. 62) compares to Herodotus’ text “the objections to monarchy voiced in vain by the prophet Samuel in response to popular demand for a king (1 Sam. 8: 11–20)” which prove that “the use of dialogue form was not a Greek monopoly”. This flashback (6.43.3 to 3.80–2) is not necessarily an indication of the earlier composition and publication of book 3. Herodotus most probably continued adding material to his work after parts of it had become known to the public; he was thus aware of the scepticism of the audience to which he is very likely replying here (see How and Wells 1928: 277; cf. Evans 1981: 80; Moles 1993: 119; West 1999: 111). 165 Cf. Moles 1993: 119–21. 166 See Pelling (2002: 125–6) commenting on 6.43.3: “The ‘Greekness’ of the debate is not something which somehow crept in under Herodotus’ guard, something which he crassly failed to spot; it is something to which he himself draws attention, which is essential in making it the ‘wonder’ which it is”. 167 That Herodotus attempts to make a wider point here is also noted by Winton (2000: 109) who observes the abstract character of the debate, which includes specific mentions of the Persians only at the start and end. Cf. also Gruen (2011a: 25): “Democracy (or isonomia) and oligarchy were viable alternatives to monarchy, even though reckoned in the end as less preferable. Whatever this tells us about the Persians, it demonstrates that Herodotus presented them as calmly deliberating about their constitutional structure and weighing Debates 151

Megabyxus’ explicit criticism of the rule of the demos on account of its violent, ignorant and irresponsible nature is fittingly put into the mouth of a Persian to create distance between the text and Herodotus’ audience, perhaps in order to avoid openly giving offence to the Greeks, and to give a glimpse into the ways in which the ‘others’ might view Greek habits and institutions. If readers manage to distance themselves from their Greek ways of thinking and adopt the critical stance of a Persian ‘other’, they might be able to see things differently and reconsider. Herodotus’ comment that Aristagoras deceived thirty thousand Athenians into lending him ships for the Ionian revolt, but failed to do so with Cleomenes of Sparta (5.97.2), most appropriately amplifies the view of Megabyxus.168

2.4.2.2 Xerxes Reconsiders: The Debate on the Greek Expedition The Persian debate on the attack against Greece at the opening of book 7 creates the impression that dissent can actually work its way through the Persian court, even through complicated procedures and initial resistance on the part of the king. Still, the Persian tradition, as reflected in the monarchical constitution and the nomos of expansion, is a constant reminder that debate is out of place in Persia—this even manifests itself in the form of a dream, thus decon- structing any attempt at actual discussion. The first focal point is Xerxes’ call for different opinions while his mind is already fixed. After having decided to launch an expedition against Greece— urged by Mardonius and the Greek renegades (7.5–6)—Xerxes summons the high-ranking Persians to announce his thoughts and find out their attitude towards the war (7.8.1).169 At the end of his long speech he states in a grandiose way “that is what must be done” (7.8δ.2: ποιητέα μέν νυν ταῦτά ἐστι οὕτω) and then throws the matter into open discussion (7.8δ.2).170 The inconsistency between the first and second part of this utterance is crucial to our

the advantages of possible options. There was no essentialist impulse to freedom in Greece and slavery in Persia”. 168 Cf. Evans 1981: 83; Lateiner 1989: 273 n. 17. 169 The latent hysteron proteron we have here ἵνα γνώμας τε πύθηταί σφέων καὶ αὐτὸς ἐν πᾶσι εἴπῃ τὰ θέλει stresses the parody of dialogue. Immerwahr (1956: 274) argues that the fact that Xerxes wants to hear other opinions, although he has already made up his mind, casts doubts on “the desirability of the campaign”. 170 ἵνα δὲ μὴ ἰδιοβουλέειν ὑμῖν δοκέω, τίθημι τὸ πρῆγμα ἐς μέσον, γνώμην κελεύων ὑμέων τὸν βουλόμενον ἀποφαίνεσθαι “but so that I shall not appear to take counsel of myself alone, I lay the matter before you all, and ask any of you who may wish to do so, to express his views”. 152 CHAPTER 2

understanding of the defective nature of Persian debate: it is a discussion about a predetermined decision.171 Other opinions are invited, provided of course that they do not oppose the view of the Great King, as his vehement reaction towards Artabanus’ dissenting view demonstrates in the course of the debate (7.11.1).172 In this context, Mardonius’ speech in support of Xerxes’ plan is welcome and elicits no further response. Mardonius succeeds by reinforcing the existing decision of Xerxes, after he pays a compliment to Xerxes’ intelligence, acting like the archetypal flatterer (7.9.1).173 Mardonius speaks about increasing Persian power, adding to the conquests of the empire, poor Greek fighting skills, inferior numbers and ease (7.9). Albeit misleading,174 his speech perfectly complies with the Persian nature and is the culmination of Mardonius’ preceding efforts to persuade an initially reluctant king175 to undertake the enterprise (7.5.2–6.1). This is the furthest a debate can get in Persia, since Herodotus informs us that there actually were opposing views which no one dared to speak (7.10.1),176

171 Cf. also Murnaghan 2001: 58–9. 172 Ἀρτάβανε, πατρὸς εἶς τοῦ ἐμοῦ ἀδελφεός· τοῦτό σε ῥύσεται μηδένα ἄξιον μισθὸν λαβεῖν ἐπέων ματαίων. καί τοι ταύτην τὴν ἀτιμίην προστίθημι ἐόντι κακῷ τε καὶ ἀθύμῳ, μήτε συστρατεύεσθαι ἔμοιγε ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα αὐτοῦ τε μένειν ἅμα τῇσι γυναιξί· ἐγὼ δὲ καὶ ἄνευ σέο ὅσα περ εἶπα ἐπιτελέα ποιήσω “Artabanus, the only thing that saves you from being punished for such an empty and ridiculous speech is that you are the brother of my father. But for your cowardice and lack of spirit I lay upon you this disgrace, that you will not accompany me on my march to Greece, but you will stay here with the women; I myself will accomplish all that I have said, with no help from you”. 173 ὦ δέσποτα, οὐ μοῦνον εἶς τῶν γενομένων Περσέων ἄριστος, ἀλλὰ καὶ τῶν ἐσομένων, ὃς τά τε ἄλλα λέγων ἐπίκεο ἄριστα καὶ ἀληθέστατα “Master, of all the Persians who have ever lived and of all who are yet to be born, you are the greatest. Every word you have spoken is true and excellent”. 174 See further below, p. 202. Cf. also Baragwanath 2012b on Mardonius’ mythic thinking and self-mythicizing both as sound, supported by the text, and as a self-conscious rhetorical strategy to bolster his image in Xerxes’ eyes. 175 See Hdt. 7.5.1: ὁ τοίνυν Ξέρξης ἐπὶ μὲν τὴν Ἑλλάδα οὐδαμῶς πρόθυμος ἦν κατ’ ἀρχὰς στρατεύεσθαι; cf. also 7.6.1: χρόνῳ δὲ κατεργάσατό τε καὶ ἀνέπεισε Ξέρξην ὥστε ποιέειν ταῦτα. Immerwahr (1966: 128) considers Xerxes’ initial unwillingness to fight Greece as a motif, which later develops into that of Xerxes’ ambivalence in the dream scene. Pelling (1991: 131) also suggests that “his [i.e. Xerxes’] night-time vacillations still point to a deep inner uncertainty”. 176 σιωπώντων δὲ τῶν ἄλλων Περσέων καὶ οὐ τολμώντων γνώμην ἀποδείκνυσθαι ἀντίην τῇ προκειμένῃ . . . For other parallels, see above, p. 54 n. 77. Accordingly, there might well be some dissidents among the commanders of the Persian army who agree on a sea-battle at Salamis, but they are too scared to speak up (8.68.1). Structure and content may be here Debates 153 and that everyone rejoices later on when Xerxes withdraws his decision to attack Greece (7.13.3: Πέρσαι μὲν ὡς ἤκουσαν ταῦτα, κεχαρηκότες προσεκύνεον). This obviously means that the rest of the high-ranking Persians also agree with Artabanus and disapprove of the campaign. To this authorial gloss of 7.10.1 is added the king’s violent reaction when Artabanus challenges his view (7.11.1). Artabanus, entitled by his close kinship to Xerxes, joins the debate and, paradoxically enough, speaks freely in a despotic environment and tries fervently to make the king revise his decision.177 To justify his reservations about a campaign against the Greeks Artabanus recalls the unsuccessful Persian expedition of Darius against the Scythians (7.10α.2), and the defeat of Datis and Artaphrenes by the Athenians at Marathon (7.10β.1).178 His language is mild and cautious, while the examples and generalizations (envy of the gods, importance of careful planning) he uses give his speech the obliqueness and subtlety required when speaking to the king. Artabanus introduces his speech with a general quasi-sophistic claim that it is best to hear two contrasting opinions on a matter, so that one is able to choose the best (7.10α.1). He continues with a comparison of opinions to gold: “think of a piece of pure gold (ὥσπερ τὸν χρυσὸν τὸν ἀκήρατον); taken all by itself it is impossible to say that it is pure; only by rubbing it on other gold we can tell which is the purer”. His proem has a triple function. It first reminds Xerxes that he himself asked for opinions and so Artabanus is now doing what he was asked to. In that sense, this piece is indeed very wisely placed in the preface of his speech ‘to create willingness to hear’ (εὔνοια).179 Another function is that it translates the institution of debate into something as palpable as the language of metals, which the aristocratic Persians could understand much better.180 Lastly, by oddly placing an argument which stresses the value of debate into the mouth of a Persian Herodotus achieves a twofold effect: he both contests the Greco-Persian opposition and defines it more sharply. The

linked closely once again: the use of a single sentence summarizing their view instead of a collective public speech could additionally emphasize that they are afraid to express themselves freely, even to agree with the king. 177 Cf. Hdt. 7.46.1: ὃς τὸ πρῶτον γνώμην ἀπεδέξατο ἐλευθέρως οὐ συμβουλεύων Ξέρξῃ στρατεύεσθαι ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 178 Cf. also his references to failed Persian expeditions in Hdt. 7.18.2 (Cyrus against the Massagetae, Cambyses against the Ethiopians, Darius against the Scythians). Note that Artabanus, in accordance with his role as ‘tragic warner’ (see Lattimore 1939), carefully selects only negative paradeigmata and omits any Persian successes. 179 See Solmsen 1982: 85 and n. 28. 180 Kurke (1999: 41–64) links the imagery of metals with an elitist aristocratic ideology, and notes that Artabanus’ language here vividly recalls Greek didactic poetry. 154 CHAPTER 2 second effect is realized by demonstrating that in the Persian court debate is unusual and therefore its conduct requires justification. There is, moreover, an important structural difference between debates as conducted in Greece and Persia: in Persia debate fails because an outcome can be imposed irrespective of the opinions present, spoken or unspoken. This is one reason Artabanus simply cannot win. Another reason is that his view contrasts with the Persian nature, just as Otanes’ democracy and Megabyxus’ oligarchy do not tally with the Persian nomos. The public presentation of Artabanus’ opinion is an invitation to Xerxes to change his mind now, in council. In spite of the indirectness of Artabanus’ speech and although he simply asks Xerxes to dismiss the meeting and rethink his plans (7.10δ.1) so that he may not seem to press Xerxes openly to change his mind, Xerxes gets angry at Artabanus’ opposing view and threatens him. Only his kinship bonds with Xerxes save Artabanus from a more severe punishment. Xerxes attempts to make it clear to others and himself that this is what must be done. This is evidenced by his outburst against Artabanus, his intolerance and exaggerated emphasis on the Persian tradition and his predecessors (7.11),181 as well as on exacting revenge on the Athenians. The decision is his, and no one will make him recall his judgment. Or so he thinks. For during the same night Xerxes stays up having second thoughts about Artabanus’ words (7.12: καὶ Ξέρξην ἔκνιζε ἡ Ἀρταβάνου γνώμη) and decides an attack against Greece is in fact a bad idea. At this critical point—when the dynamics of the debate seem actually to be working with Xerxes reconsidering, that is, when something incompatible with the Persian political context starts happening—this discrepancy triggers the dream: Xerxes is warned to stop pondering and go back to his original plan (7.12.2).182

181 On the diverse uses of the past by Xerxes, Artabanus and Mardonius in this debate, see Grethlein 2009a: 198–200. 182 Μετὰ δὴ βουλεύεαι, ὦ Πέρσα, στράτευμα μὴ ἄγειν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, προείπας ἁλίζειν Πέρσῃσι στρατόν; οὔτε ὦν μεταβουλευόμενος ποιέεις εὖ, οὔτε ὁ συγγνωσόμενός τοι πάρα· ἀλλ᾽ ὥσπερ τῆς ἡμέρης ἐβουλεύσαο ποιέειν, ταύτην ἴθι τῶν ὁδῶν “Are you then changing your mind, Persian, and are you deciding against taking an expedition to Greece, although you have already told the Persians to raise an army? It is not good for you to change your mind, and there will be no one here to pardon you for it. Keep to the course of action you decided on during the daytime”. The dream (Hdt. 7.12–18) clearly alludes to the deceitful dream (οὖλον ὄνειρον) sent to Agamemnon by Zeus at Il. 2.5 ff. (cf. Macan 1908a: 22; How and Wells 1912: 131; Harrison 2000a: 133 n. 43; Stahl 2012: 142–5), but is not deceitful because it does not promise Xerxes success in the expedition, only the loss of his throne if he does not pursue it (see Saïd 2002a: 144). Debates 155

Xerxes neglects the apparition and his reaction the next morning marks the height of the debate process. He proclaims in front of the leading Persians that he actually took into consideration the previous discussion and resolved to change his previous wrong judgment and he therefore apologizes (7.13.2: Ἄνδρες Πέρσαι, συγγνώμην μοι ἔχετε ὅτι ἀγχίστροφα βουλεύομαι).183 Xerxes recognizes he was wrong to let himself be led astray by Mardonius’ constant pressure and reject Artabanus’ just advice. The Greek expedition will not go ahead (7.13.2–3). It is quite startling for the reader to see the Great King behaving in such a receptive and recessive manner. It looks like Xerxes makes things and debate work. But a change of mind on the basis of exchange of opinions is alien to the Persian constitutional framework. Moreover, Xerxes’ decision to call off an attack against Greece is not in tune with the Persian tendency to endlessly conquer. The vision comes back to Xerxes, this time to make its point more forcefully: Xerxes should have heeded the warning, he should not have appeared in front of the Persians and renounced the expedition and if the expedition is cancelled Xerxes will quickly lose his power (7.14). Xerxes, scared, asks for Artabanus’ help to figure out if the dream is sent by a god and he should therefore obey: Xerxes wants Artabanus to put on his clothes, sit on his throne and sleep in his bed. Despite his reservations as he thinks dreams merely reflect daytime concerns, Artabanus does as Xerxes asks. The dream is not fooled and clarifies to Artabanus that the expedition is inevitable and he must not discourage Xerxes (7.15–17). Both Xerxes and Artabanus are thus convinced of the divine origin of the dream and preparations for the expedition begin. It is not easy to explain the nature of the dream. Herodotus provides hints of both its divine and empirical (daily worries) origin.184 Whether natural or supernatural, or both, the dream functions as an important narrative device in that it restores a kind of balance on two levels. It first makes sure that the Persian tradition is not altered in any way. Secondly, it ensures that the opinion of the king is not changed on account of the discussion and comparison of different views. It thus reminds readers (and the Persians) that conversation cannot operate properly in Persia simply because this is a monarchy.185

183 Xerxes’ relatively weak personality (as discussed in ch. 1) perhaps invites us to anticipate a change of opinion, so that the following events do not come as a complete surprise. 184 See Pelling 1999: 17–22; Stahl 2012: 139–42. 185 Cf. Murnaghan (2001: 59): “At the same time, the debate involving Artabanus actually seems, nonetheless, to work, although slowly, as a medium of rational persuasion, only to be overwhelmed by a divine destiny that is aligned with the inevitable impetus of Persian imperial expansion”. 156 CHAPTER 2

The natural interpretation of the dream could perhaps sharpen this observation a little further: Xerxes (and also Artabanus) is aware of the restrictions imposed by Persian monarchy in terms of decision-making (as well as in terms of Persian expansion) and may himself be feeling uneasy about changing his mind; the dream represents his disquiet and also gives him a way out.186 This section, the longest barbarian debate in the work, provides us with two further points that challenge and comment on Greek perceptions and practices of debate. The first is Artabanus’ remark on the value of opposing opinions. The second is Mardonius’ success in persuading Xerxes initially with false arguments, a direct hint to rhetorical manipulation common in free and democratic debate—a reading sustained by Artabanus’ attack against slander (7.10η.2).187

2.4.2.3 Calling for the Truth and Rejecting It: Xerxes vs. Demaratus and the Problem of Free Debate Another Persian debate between Xerxes, Demaratus and Achaemenes goes astray in 7.234–7. Herodotus compellingly bolsters our expectations in the opposite direction, that is, that this debate will work. The narrative build-up starts when Xerxes recognizes Demaratus as a good man and sees the truth in his words (7.234.1: Δημάρητε, ἀνὴρ εἶς ἀγαθός. τεκμαίρομαι δὲ τῇ ἀληθείῃ· ὅσα γὰρ εἶπας, ἅπαντα ἀπέβη οὕτω). The intratextual link effected by Xerxes points back to their conversations before the battle at Thermopylae. There Xerxes always invites Demaratus to tell him the truth about matters relating to the Greek— and more specifically Spartan—valour and fighting habits (7.101–5, 209). The emphasis Demaratus places on Greek/Spartan freedom and courage188 is

186 Cf. also the interesting psychological insight in Thompson (1996: 103 n. 29): “there may be more psychological depth to the image. Xerxes might summon up this domineering personality himself precisely in order to be subject to a necessary force, thus avoiding all the perils and uncertainties of deliberation”. 187 Cf. Forsdyke 2006: 234. 188 See e.g. Hdt. 7.102.1–2: “in Greece poverty is always endemic, but courage (ἀρετή) is acquired as the fruit of wisdom and strong law; by use of this courage Greece defends itself from poverty and tyranny (δεσποσύνην) . . . the Spartans will never accept conditions from you that bring slavery (δουλοσύνην) upon Greece; and second, they will fight you even if all the other Greeks are on your side”; 7.209.3–4: “Rest assured that if you overcome these Spartan men and those remaining behind at Sparta, there is no other race on earth which will take up arms and stand up to you, my King. You are now up against the finest kingdom in Greece and the bravest men”. Debates 157 recurrently confirmed by the narrative.189 Truth (ἀληθείη) is Demaratus’ primary concern in all his speeches.190 Xerxes, however, being over-confident in his power, repeatedly misunderstands Demaratus’ words, and neglects and even laughs at the truth.191 The Spartan resistance at Thermopylae is the ultimate proof of the soundness of Demaratus’ claims. These events make Xerxes reconsider his attitude; or so it seems. A change of heart would not be unexpected as we have already seen Xerxes changing his mind straight after the council of the leading Persians at the beginning of book 7. But there the dream made sure that the Persian tradition was not violated and that debate remained ineffective. Here it is Xerxes’ brother Achaemenes who takes care so that debate is again abortive. Xerxes wants to know the easiest way to defeat the Spartans (7.234.3).192 Demaratus advises the king to use part of the fleet to attack the Peloponnesians from the island of Cythera, otherwise he will have to face all the Peloponnesian army assembled in the narrow Isthmus in even bloodier battles (7.235). Having served as king of the Spartans before, Demaratus knows perfectly well that Cythera is the most suitable place for strategic operations against Laconia.193 Achaemenes interferes in the discussion to voice an opposing opinion: if the Persians keep their great fleet together, the Greeks will never risk an engagement; and, if fleet and army advance together, they can support each

189 The Spartans are said to be the most prominent and the bravest among the Greeks by Croesus’ messengers (1.69.2: ὑμέας γὰρ πυνθάνομαι προεστάναι τῆς Ἑλλάδος) and by Aristagoras in his speech to Cleomenes (5.49.2: ἔτι δὲ τῶν λοιπῶν ὑμῖν, ὅσῳ προέστατε τῆς Ἑλλάδος; 5.49.3: ὑμεῖς τε τὰ ἐς τὸν πόλεμον ἐς τὰ μέγιστα ἀνήκετε ἀρετῆς πέρι). Cf. also the performance of the Spartans in the battle at Thyrea at 1.82; the attitude of the Spartans and the Athenians towards Darius’ messengers (7.133.1); and the dispatch of Sperthias and Bulis to Persia to die for Darius’ messengers, as well as their conversations with Hydarnes and Xerxes (7.134–6). 190 The word ἀληθείη and its derivatives occur five times in Demaratus’ speeches at 7.102, 104, 209. Interestingly truth is also connected to Demaratus’ life story: on account of his questionable paternity he interrogates his mother to find out who his real father is (6.68–9: here the concept of ‘truth’ occurs five times). Cf. also Boedeker 1987: 194–6. 191 See Hdt. 7.103.1, 105, 209.2. On the ill-boding and fateful character of laughter in the Histories, see Lateiner 1977; Flory 1978. Laughter ironically features often in stories dealing with Demaratus, e.g. at 6.67.2, when Leotychides attempts to mock and humiliate Demaratus (ἐπὶ γέλωτί τε καὶ λάσθῃ). 192 Δημάρητε, τέῳ τρόπῳ ἀπονητότατα τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων ἐπικρατήσομεν; 193 The Athenian occupation of Cythera in the 450s and 420s proves its value as a naval base to attack the Peloponnese (see Thuc. 4.53; Paus. 1.27.5). See How and Wells 1912: 233. Cf. also Macan 1908a: 346–7. 158 CHAPTER 2 other. In case the Spartans decide to fight the Persians again, “they will certainly not repair the injury they have already received” (7.236). Achaemenes speaks very harshly of Demaratus, calling him a jealous man and a traitor to Xerxes (7.236.1: φθονέει τοι εὖ πρήσσοντι ἢ καὶ προδιδοῖ πρήγματα τὰ σά). He tries to present Demaratus’ sound argument as totally absurd and which intends to impoverish the Persian forces: “if you divide the fleet, the enemy will be a match for us (ἀξιόμαχοί τοι γίνονται οἱ ἀντίπαλοι)” (7.236.2). Xerxes takes Achaemenes’ more pragmatic view. Still, he defends Demaratus vigorously against the slanders of his brother. He stresses Demaratus’ friendly status next to the king and forbids anyone to say any disparaging words about Demaratus in the future (7.237). Debate does not work here either. For in the end Xerxes chooses the opinion he himself considers best. His brother’s opinion is successful in that it reflects fears of the division of the Persian forces which are shared equally by all the Persian generals and the king.194 Even though Xerxes is able to see the truth through Demaratus’ words, discourse is once again flawed. The dynamics of the debate are once more clearly defined. Xerxes summons the council. He specifically asks for Demaratus’ opinion as he was right about Thermopylae. Xerxes’ inability to conceive of the notion of freedom explains and foreshadows his inability to conduct a proper debate even if he proposes to do so. The case with Artemisia, which will be dealt with in the next section, is comparable. The affinities may be summarized in the following: just like Demaratus she is also praised for her wise counsels (8.68γ.2, 101.4, 103), but only after the defeat at Salamis (that is, retrospectively as in the case of Demaratus) is Xerxes absolutely convinced of the rightness of her advice and asks her view; yet Xerxes only follows her advice this time because it happens to coincide with his own thoughts (8.103). Demaratus’ advice is evidently not attuned to Xerxes’ personal views. But, had he listened to Demaratus, bloodier battles at Artemisium and Salamis would indeed have been avoided.

2.4.2.4 “My Men Have Turned into Women, My Women into Men”: Artemisia Speaking Freely Artemisia’s robustly dissenting voice complicates the representation of the Persian debates at Salamis. On the one hand, although she is subject to Xerxes,

194 Slandering and jealousy among officers are indeed common in the Persian court (e.g. Megabazus 5.23.2–3; Artemisia’s enemies 8.69.1). However, since Achaemenes is the brother of Xerxes and not just any general, it does not seem plausible that he is motivated by jealousy in slandering Demaratus. He could be motivated by genuine concern about the Persian interests. Debates 159 she speaks with more freedom than her position allows. On the other hand, despite her being a woman non-member, she intervenes decisively in debates, thereby proving them inadequate to their purpose. Artemisia’s portrayal in the work blends two different sets of polarities: the man-woman and the Greek-barbarian. She is an Eastern enemy helping Xerxes in his expedition and thus she identifies with the barbarians. But she is also of Greek origin, born to a Halicarnassian father and a Cretan mother (7.99.2). Accordingly, she carries the Greek features of free will and lack of fear in speaking freely.195 Her manly qualities—also encompassed in her Greek nature and opposed to the effeminacy and softness of the barbarians—are recurrently confirmed in the narrative. From the weight Herodotus lays on her “spirit of adventure and masculine courage” in the catalogue of the Persian forces (7.99.1: ὑπὸ λήματός τε καὶ ἀνδρηίης ἐστρατεύετο) to Xerxes’ celebrated comment on her fighting at Salamis “my men have turned into women, my women into men” (8.88.3: οἱ μὲν ἄνδρες γεγόνασί μοι γυναῖκες, αἱ δὲ γυναῖκες ἄνδρες),196 Artemisia’s masculine characteristics receive special emphasis.197 As a blend of different sets of polarities, Artemisia facilitates Herodotus’ confusion of these opposing categories.198

195 Note that Artemisia partakes in the campaign as a result of her own will and without being forced like the other subjects of Xerxes (7.99.1: οὐδεμιῆς οἱ ἐούσης ἀναγκαίης). 196 On the importance of the comment, see Bowie 2007: 179 (cf. also: “Though this central panel of the description from the Persian side involves gender reversal, H. [i.e. Herodotus] does not exploit this stereotype of effeminacy, but barely hints at it”). Note also Hdt. 9.107.1: “to call a man worse than a woman is the greatest insult one can offer a Persian” (the comment emphasizes Xerxes’ amazement in retrospect). Overturning of gender stereotypes consistently features in Herodotus’ depiction of Artemisia: see Artemisia’s advice to Xerxes that he should avoid a naval battle for the Greeks are as far superior to his men in naval matters as men are to women (8.68α.1), as well as the Athenians offering a reward for capturing Artemisia alive since they dislike the fact that a woman should appear in arms against them (8.93.2). Note further that Artemisia is sent back to Persia together with Xerxes’ sons and Hermotimus the eunuch, who has a man-woman status (8.103–4). Hornblower (2003: 43) moreover suggests that the reference to the Pedasan bearded priestess in the same context (8.104) is particularly pointed: the priestess is the opposite of Hermotimus and the equivalent of Artemisia. See also Bowie (2007: 158): “The jealousy of some of the Persian allies at her popularity with the King no doubt had a gender element too (69.1). H.’s [i.e. Herodotus’] and Xerxes’ admiration contrasts notably with the attitude of these allies and the Athenians”. 197 On Artemisia’s freedom and courage, see also Munson 1988: 91–7; esp. on her courage, see Harrell 2003. 198 See also Cartledge 20022: 97–9. Cf. the dissolution and confusion of polarities in Euripides, e.g. in Dionysus in the Bacchae (Segal 1978) and Medea in the eponymous tragedy (McDermott 1989). 160 CHAPTER 2

Before Salamis, when Mardonius is dispatched by Xerxes to ask the views of his generals on whether they should engage with the Greeks at sea, Artemisia dares to oppose the view of the majority for a naval encounter (8.68).199 She finds no reason to fight, since Xerxes has already taken Athens and holds the rest of Greece in his power. Whether the king stays where he is or goes to the Peloponnese, in the end the Greeks will be forced to leave Salamis, scatter and go home (8.68α–γ). It is due to the inflexibility of barbarian debate that the same argument has more force when tried by Themistocles on Eurybiades (8.58.2, 62.2). The peculiar dynamics of the Persian debate are underlined in the text in an additional way: Xerxes is pleased with Artemisia’s advice and respects her even more,200 but he agrees with the majority. He believes that his men did not fight well at Artemisium because he was not there to watch the battle. So, he is now going to watch the naval battle himself (8.69.2). The train of thought is strikingly suggestive of the monarchical political system. The result is a sham debate, emphasized by the phrase “his orders were that the advice of the majority should be followed” (8.69.2: ὅμως δὲ τοῖσι πλέοσι πείθεσθαι ἐκέλευε), as we know very well that Xerxes would not have adopted the opinion of the majority had it not coincided with his own.201 Although Artemisia’s straightforwardness overreaches the limits so much that she astonishes her friends as well as her enemies in view of her potential punishment by the king (8.69.1), she gains higher esteem in the eyes of Xerxes.202 She is the woman who surprisingly makes debate work, up to a point. But then debate must once again be played out according to the rules of the Great King. After the Persian defeat at Salamis, another debate is brought about by Mardonius. He prompts Xerxes to either attack the Peloponnese or go back and leave him behind with a part of the army to subjugate Greece. Xerxes summons a council to consider the best alternative. We are not given any of

199 I treat this as a debate since Mardonius lays the opinions of the generals before Xerxes and he ‘chooses’ between them. 200 See Hdt. 8.69.2: κάρτα τε ἥσθη τῇ γνώμῃ τῇ Ἀρτεμισίης, καὶ νομίζων ἔτι πρότερον σπουδαίην εἶναι τότε πολλῷ μᾶλλον αἴνεε. 201 On the dynamics of this debate, cf. also Pelling 2006c: 110–11; Dewald (1985: 50): “the scene in 8.68–69 exposes the frivolity of Xerxes’ political decision making”. Another subtle marker of the distinct dynamics of Persian debate is noted by Baragwanath (2008: 313 and n. 54), who observes the forensic affiliations of the word ἀνάκρισις, used at 8.69.1 to describe Artemisia’s response—the term “underlines the necessarily defensive quality of her reply”. 202 This is also in accordance with the unpredictable and capricious nature of Xerxes. Debates 161 the speeches of the debate until Artemisia is invited to join in and everyone else is dismissed (8.100–1).203 By allowing Artemisia to speak to him in private and without any go-between this time, Xerxes affirms his admiration for the Halicarnassian queen.204 By allowing a woman to speak, Xerxes acknowledges free debate while at the same time confirming its deficiency. The way Xerxes addresses, or rather does not address, Artemisia complicates things even more. She is the only person whom Xerxes does not call by name—the common way to address one’s subjects—205or by any other word. The normal address for a woman would be γύναι, but, given Artemisia’s androgynous status, such an address would underestimate both her position and the value of her advice.206 This time Artemisia advises Xerxes to protect himself. He should now return to Susa and leave Mardonius behind with some of the forces. He can benefit from the potential success of Mardonius, otherwise he will lose nothing but a mere slave (8.102.3). She cleverly rounds off her speech by presenting Xerxes as a victor who has accomplished the actual goal of his expedition, i.e. the burning of Athens (8.102.3: σὺ δέ, τῶν εἵνεκα τὸν στόλον ἐποιήσαο, πυρώσας τὰς Ἀθήνας ἀπελᾷς). Once more, as with Mardonius in book 7, one notes the value of extravagant flattery in dealing with the king.207 When Xerxes takes Artemisia’s advice, we are made to think for a moment that he is actually receptive to different opinions. The subsequent narrative, however, overturns any such expectation: Xerxes accepts the advice just because this happens to coincide with what he has in mind (8.103: ἥσθη τε δὴ τῇ συμβουλῇ Ξέρξης· λέγουσα γὰρ έπετύγχανε τά περ αὐτὸς ἐνόεε). The authorial gloss which follows sheds some light on Xerxes’ motivation: he “would not have stayed in Greece, had all his counsellors, men and women alike, urged him to do so; for he was so much frightened” (8.103: οὕτω καταρρωδήκεε). It thus becomes clear that Xerxes does not follow the opinion of his advisers— or the majority, as he claims at 8.69.2—but his own personal will or whim. Moreover, even though Xerxes understands retrospectively the soundness of

203 I take this as a debate also since Xerxes, after having consulted with his counsellors, invites Artemisia’s opinion to help him make up his mind. 204 Cf. Bowie 2007: 191. 205 See e.g. Hdt. 5.106.1: Ἱστιαῖε; 7.101.1: Δημάρατε; 7.11.1: Ἀρτάβανε; 7.237.1: Ἀχαίμενες. 206 See also Dickey 1996: 245. 207 Bowie (2007: 157–8) also draws attention to Artemisia’s intelligent interchange between the vocatives δέσποτα and βασιλεῦ when addressing the king in 8.68α–γ: the self-effacing δέσποτα at the start of the speech is replaced by the pompous and powerful term βασιλεῦ at the end. 162 CHAPTER 2

Artemisia’s advice,208 by assuming the role of the king, he has bound himself to the Persian nomos of unremitting imperialism. And this brings us back to the point of debate in Persia: what is the purpose of asking for the opinions of his generals (i.e. his subjects), if Xerxes is the absolute master and makes the final decision? The Persians contemplate the possibility of debate, and some people, like Artemisia, do speak freely (though, as noted above, she has to be circumspect), but everything is bound to the Persian custom. Another (perhaps far-fetched but tempting) possibility is that Artemisia might in effect be manipulating her interference in the debate at 8.100–3 by performing a brave deed in the battle. It is attractive to see her participation in the second debate as a result of her exquisite performance at Salamis (in the eyes of the King). Xerxes is specifically calling for her and her advice (8.101.1, 101.4). It seems as if Artemisia has somehow secured the right for herself to take part in the discussion and speak freely. This is not only because she proved to be right. She has also strengthened her own image in the eyes of the king, and won additional appreciation on account of an incident which Herodotus singles out (8.87):209 in order to escape from an Athenian trireme chasing her, Artemisia rams and sinks the allied ship of the Calyndian king Damasithymus. Although Herodotus is reluctant to pass judgment on this action—there might have been either some quarrel between Artemisia and Damasithymus at the Hellespont, or Artemisia might have already planned it before, or the ship might have been in her way by chance—the point is that Artemisia manages to get a double benefit out of it (8.87.4: διπλὰ ἑωυτὴν ἀγαθὰ ἐργάσατο). Artemisia saves her own life because the Athenian captain stops chasing her thinking she fights on the Greek side and Xerxes assumes she sinks an enemy ship and appreciates her even more (8.88.1–2). She was lucky enough that no one survived from the Calyndian ship to accuse her (8.88.3). Artemisia thus resembles Themistocles in that they both deceive their enemies and their allies. She uses the ship in a similar way to how Themistocles uses, for example, the Persian fleet at the battle of Salamis (8.75, 79–80). Both Artemisia and Themistocles (8.5.3, 22.3: ἐπ’ ἀμφότερα νοέων) turn a situation to their own advantage and get double profit.210

208 See Hdt. 8.101.1: ἔδοξέ οἱ καὶ Ἀρτεμισίην ἐς συμβουλίην μεταπέμψασθαι, ὅτι πρότερον ἐφαίνετο μούνη νοέουσα τὰ ποιητέα ἦν; 8.101.4: καὶ γὰρ περὶ τῆς ναυμαχίης εὖ συνεβούλευσας τῆς γενομένης οὐκ ἐῶσα ποιέεσθαι. 209 See Hdt. 8.87: κατὰ μὲν δὴ τοὺς ἄλλους οὐκ ἔχω [μετεξετέρους] εἰπεῖν ἀτρεκέως ὡς ἕκαστοι τῶν βαρβάρων ἢ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἠγωνίζοντο· κατὰ δὲ Ἀρτεμισίην τάδε ἐγένετο,. . . . 210 On the relation between Artemisia, Themistocles and contemporary Athens in terms of self-interest and trickery, see Munson 1988: 103, 105; cf. Lateiner 1990: 231–2. But cf. also Debates 163

If Artemisia’s motivation is unclear then the picture of debate gets even more warped with backstage policy occupying centre stage once again.211 Two related questions rise. Does Artemisia only care about herself, since Xerxes did not listen to her advice in the first place? And does she exploit the incident to increase Xerxes’ sympathy with her so that she may be sent off safely to Ephesus later, with the honourable duty to escort the sons of the Great King? The questions remain open, but they are certainly worth asking as they enrich the text’s interpretative possibilities and add a further dimension to the way Herodotus treats barbarian debate and draws connections between the Greeks and the ‘others’.

2.4.2.5 Speech and Power: Mardonius vs. Artabazus and His Generals Towards the end of the Histories Persian debate is replayed, and the subject of speech and power, inextricably tied to the dynamics of Persian debate, becomes once more the centre of attention for Herodotus and his readers. Before the battle at Plataea, Mardonius and Artabazus—both cousins of Xerxes, and the latter also having the highest reputation with the king (9.41.1)—debate whether to fight the Greeks or not. Artabazus suggests that they do not risk a battle but withdraw within the fortifications of Thebes and offer presents to the most influential of the Greeks instead (9.41.2–3). Herodotus remarks on Artabazus’ view: “this opinion coincided with that of the Thebans; for they reckoned that Artabazus was a man of more than average foresight” (9.41.4).212 The Thebans have already advised Mardonius that the best way to divide and thus defeat the

Munson (1988: 104): “Unlike the presentation of Themistocles, the narrative of Artemisia at Salamis emphasizes less the trickster’s intention to deceive (ἔδοξε οἱ τόδε ποιῆσαι, 8.87.2) than the confusing nature of an experience that has become susceptible to manipulation (see 87.2, θόρυβος)”. 211 Cf. Bowie (2007: 185, 191): in 8.102 Artemisia tries to protect both the king and herself. 212 τούτου μὲν ἡ αὐτὴ ἐγίνετο καὶ Θηβαίων γνώμη, ὡς προειδότος πλεῦν τι καὶ τούτου. Artabazus is pictured here as a wise adviser (Lattimore 1939 places him specifically in the category of ‘tragic warners’). Flower and Marincola (2002: 181) draw parallels between Mardonius—Artabazus and Hector—Polydamas (parallels may be also drawn between Xerxes—Artabanus and Hector—Polydamas, on which see Pelling 1991: 120–1, 135). The comparison is also made by Barker (2009: 173–5), who concentrates however on the differences in terms of the stronger presence of Herodotus’ authorial voice in framing the debate. Nevertheless, Artabazus’ advisory role becomes ambiguous later on, in 9.89, when he deceives the Thessalians (here, I find myself in disagreement with the argument of Flower and Marincola [2002: 260] that Artabazus’ “cleverness in fooling the Thessalians once again serves to highlight his sagacity”). 164 CHAPTER 2

Greeks is to bribe them (9.2.3).213 Even if the focalization of 9.41.4 is Theban,214 it manifestly has authorial backing. The narrative proves Artabazus’ arguments wise: the Greeks are good fighters and have already defeated the Persians at Salamis; hence, they could feasibly beat them once again. The comment in 9.41.4 is all the more telling as it precedes the negative criticism about Mardonius’ view being “vehement and intemperate, and not at all leaning to moderation” (9.41.4).215 Mardonius’ main argument, the Persian nomos of endless expansion, recalls his own and Xerxes’ utterances at the beginning of book 7.216 Mardonius here has indeed taken the place of Xerxes, who has left and put him in charge of the army. As a result, his opinion is bound to prevail. Herodotus’ relevant comment stresses the futility of this debate too: τούτου δὲ οὕτω δικαιεῦντος ἀντέλεγε οὐδείς, ὥστε ἐκράτεε τῇ γνώμῃ· τὸ γὰρ

213 Distributing money to achieve one’s purposes is particularly connected with the Thebans in the account of Plataea. Cf. also the suggestion of the Theban Timagenides to his fellow- citizens to hand over to the Greeks the medizers at the prospect of offering the Greeks money to secure their acquittal (9.87). 214 Although it is not very clear, the passage might suggest that the Thebans are also present at the conference, and possibly speak in support of Artabazus repeating what they have said at 9.2.2–3. Moreover, the phrase τούτου δὲ οὕτω δικαιεῦντος ἀντέλεγε οὐδείς, ὥστε ἐκράτεε τῇ γνώμῃ (9.42.1) implies more than one participant. On this, see also Macan 1908b: 680. But cf. Flower and Marincola (2002: 183): “Mention of the Thebans does not necessarily imply that they spoke at this conference. Mardonius already knew their opinion (2.1–3)”; Flower and Marincola (2002: 185) (on ἀντέλεγε οὐδείς): “since this is a conference between Artabazus and Mardonius, one wonders who might have spoken in opposition: perhaps H. [i.e. Herodotus] is amalgamating this conference with the next where Mardonius calls together the company commanders”. 215 Μαρδονίου δὲ ἰσχυροτέρη τε καὶ ἀγνωμονεστέρη καὶ οὐδαμῶς συγγινωσκομένη. Strikingly, ἀγνωμοσύνη is attributed to Mardonius for the second time here ( first at 9.3.1). It is also attributed by Mardonius to the Athenians at 9.4.2, and to all the Greeks at 7.9β.1. In all these contexts the word is somehow associated with Mardonius, so that we are made to think it is a distinctive characteristic of his that might lead to disaster. See also Flower and Marincola 2002: 183; Baragwanath 2012b: 307–8 (with reference to Aeschylus’ Agamemnon). Cf. the strong ironic forebodings of Mardonius ignoring the warnings from the sacrifices of Hegesistratus (9.41.4). Note, however, that Mardonius does not always reject Theban advice: a short sentence in indirect discourse at 9.31.2, where Mardonius is said to take the advice of the Thebans on the placing of his army in the battle line, indicates that the commander trusts their opinion. Mardonius also takes another piece of Theban advice, that of Timagenides (9.38.2–39.1). 216 An alternative is offered by Baragwanath (2012b: 300–10), who construes Mardonius’ attitude here as heroic and attributes it to his mythicizing tendency. Debates 165

κράτος εἶχε τῆς στρατίης οὗτος ἐκ βασιλέος, ἀλλ’ οὐκ Ἀρτάβαζος (9.42.1).217 Should one expect Mardonius’ rule to be looser than Xerxes’, one will be disappointed, and the reader has become all too familiar with Mardonius’ imperialistic policy by now. The play between speech and power continues. Soon after, Mardonius calls his generals to speak of any prophecy they know about the annihilation of the Persian army in Greece, but everybody remains silent. Mardonius’ direct speech explicitly clarifies the dynamics of speech in the Persian court where fear does not allow the tongue to speak freely: “since you either know nothing or do not dare to speak, I know and I will tell you” (9.42.2).218 Like Xerxes earlier, although he knows no one is going to oppose him or express an opinion freely Mardonius still asks for opinions.219 He then goes on to speak about a certain oracle which predicts that the Persians will be destroyed if they sack the temple at Delphi. But he interprets the oracle the other way around: “if we do not plunder Delphi, we will not perish” (9.42.3).220 The narrative evidently undercuts his argument: in the previous year the Persians had actually tried to attack Delphi, but were crushed by stones falling from Parnassus (8.39.2). If we follow Harrison’s suggestion221 that, as proven in the story of Glaucus told by Leotychides at 6.86, the mere consideration or intention of committing a crime is the same as performing the crime, then Mardonius’ argument proves invalid and indicates his blindness, or his ἀγνωμοσύνη. There are four possibilities, all of which ironically allude to a bad end. First, Mardonius says here that, since they failed once, they will not try again. Second, the event possibly happened before Mardonius learnt

217 “No one withstood this argument, and his opinion accordingly prevailed; for it was he and not Artabazus who had been given control of the army by the king”. Cf. the silence here with the silence after Mardonius’ speech in 7.10.1. 218 σιγώντων δὲ τῶν ἐπικλήτων, τῶν μὲν οὐκ εἰδότων τοὺς χρησμούς, τῶν δὲ εἰδότων μέν, ἐν ἀδείῃ δὲ οὐ ποιευμένων τὸ λέγειν, αὐτός γε Μαρδόνιος ἔλεγε· Ἐπεὶ τοίνυν ὑμεῖς ἢ ἴστε οὐδὲν ἢ οὐ τολμᾶτε λέγειν, ἀλλ’ ἐγὼ ἐρέω ὡς εὖ ἐπιστάμενος. 219 Cf. Montiglio (2000: 155): “As in the passage in book 7 [i.e. 7.10ff.], silence betrays the aber- rant nature of Persian assemblies. It is true that in this case [i.e. 9.42] conflicting opinions are voiced; but the kratos of the royal general adds to the kratos of his words, which erase those of his antagonist and impose silence on the others as sign of timid and unconvinced assent. Mardonius’ power for a second time prevents the other participants from speaking, so that he must say himself the words that he would have liked to hear”. 220 Cf. Mardonius’ attitude to Leotychides’ regarding the name of Hegesistratus as a good omen in the Mycale narrative (see also Hohti 1976: 127 n. 2). 221 See Harrison 2000a: 150 n. 104. 166 CHAPTER 2 of the oracles (probably by Mys of Euromus,222 whom he sends to consult as many oracles as possible), and so he thinks if they do not plunder Delphi they will win. Third, Mardonius might not know of the expedition against Delphi.223 Fourth, Mardonius is quite aware of the attack on Delphi and its applicabil- ity to the current situation, but he wants to attack anyway—which could be viewed as a portrayal of Mardonius’ irreverence towards oracles and religion in general.224 The discussion, which reads more like Mardonius’ monologue, comes to an end and Mardonius orders his generals to prepare for the upcoming fight.

As our case studies have shown in this chapter, debate fails in both Greek and Persian contexts, on different and similar grounds but with opposing results: things go well for the Greeks but not for the Persians and one cannot but wonder if dissent and disagreement might have brought about better results for the Persians. Yet Greek debate is not as free or democratic as one would expect. Herodotus so often suppresses it and tends to give credit to certain individuals instead. The language he uses to describe Greek debate does convey openness, freedom and collectiveness but also friction and disagreement as it recalls war and competition. In Greek debates things are always somewhat problematic. The Spartans try to impose decisions on their allies who need to protect their privilege to disagree. Even when he abdicates his tyranny, Aristagoras, preoccupied as he is with saving himself, behaves in a tyrannical manner and shuts down dissent. At Salamis Themistocles interferes and resorts to trickery to force decisions in the midst of interrupted, repetitive and unfruitful discussions and disagreement between the Greeks. The failure of debate in Greece is somehow balanced by the insistent, still defective, efforts of the Persians to discuss. Persian debate in the Histories is characterized by fixed formalities and inflexibility, restraint and fear, and limited participation. Even if debate proves to be futile, it is still part of the Persian deliberation process. Sometimes the language employed to describe Persian debate is surprisingly similar to, or even more inclusive than, that framing Greek debate. There are even spells of free speech with Artemisia, Demaratus and Artabanus. The king himself

222 Hude reads ‘Europus’. Stein, however, based on Mys’ Carian origin (8.135.3), suggests that the correct reading is ‘Euromus,’ which is the name of a Carian city (pace How and Wells 1912: 279). ‘Europus’ is apparently used by the Carians as a variant for ‘Euromus’ in the fifth and third centuries b.c. (see Robert 1950: 36; be 1973 no. 415; see also Hornblower 1982: 347 and nn. 136, 140; Bowie 2007: 221). 223 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 186. 224 I owe this point to James Ford. Debates 167

reconsiders decisions and claims to comply with the opinion of the majority. Debate is constantly being problematized and undercut in ways that both underpin and contest the Greco-Persian polarity. Herodotus uses Persian debate to say something about Greek debate and Greek perceptions of debate and ‘others’. He points to the pitfalls of debate and democratic deliberation and spells out the problem of Greek cities constantly vying for control. Confrontation of opinions in the arena of debate is hardly beneficial when each city prioritizes its own interests over higher moral considerations, and deception lurks at every corner. Debate in the Histories never works out as it should. But how should it work out? For Herodotus the ideal debate, especially in so pressing circumstances, would likely involve less disagreement and encroaching on each other’s freedom, less focus on the welfare of any one individual city and more focus on the broader interests of Greece and the common cause. This ideal might not seem quite realistic precisely because of the pressing circumstances and Herodotus may be well aware of that. He might just hope that his depiction of and commentary on debate could perhaps help the Greeks to see where and why things go wrong, and that when things go right this is only very rarely down to any productive discussion. The Greeks might need to rethink or adjust their priorities and converse more responsibly especially on an inter-state level. In the next part of this book we now turn to the specific nature of arguments put to use in speeches of both Greeks and Persians. Time and again deception and private aspirations pull the strings more or less explicitly and render Greek unity extremely fragile. Comparable and disparate motifs in Greek and Persian rhetoric further complicate any fixed antithesis between the two enemies.

part 3 Speech and Typology

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CHAPTER 3 Alliance Speeches

As the previous chapter demonstrated, in Herodotus debate is essentially faulty in both Greece and Persia. The Persians make some serious attempts at debate—sometimes better than the Greeks and articulated in a more inclusive language—but do not succeed due to limitations dictated by monarchy. Freedom is both an advantage and a disadvantage for the Greeks when it comes to debate. Many opinions are heard, disagreement breaks out and final decisions are very hard to reach. Discussions are largely portrayed as battles and competitions, individuals assume autocratic ways, and trick and extort others. Such a depiction has interesting connotations for contesting the Greco- Persian polarity. In this chapter we move on to a closer examination and a more specific speech genre, the alliance speeches. Speeches of this kind, which make their first appearance as a formalized genre in the Rhetoric to Alexander, occupy a key place in Herodotus’ composition and the fragmented world of independent Greek cities it represents. Alliance speeches are obviously, and unsurprisingly, most common on the Greek side. The aim of this chapter is to explore the type and effectiveness of the rhetorical arguments the Greeks put into practice in the Histories in order to achieve unity against the vast forces of the enemy. Given the numerical superiority, and also the imperialistic outlook, of the Persians, alliance speeches are much less frequent on the Persian side, and employed in order to gain the cooperation of some Greeks, divide the Greek community and bring the war to a swift end. In alliance speeches, rhetorical manipulation is key and is manifested in a range of rhetorical devices. Kinship and self-interest, two major and typically Thucydidean themes, feature prominently here.1 Even in their hour of need, the Greeks are motivated by self-interest rather than idealism. Arguments are strategically employed and a speaker’s words play on his audience’s values and emotions. Factions are multi-faceted and pervade more or less explicitly every attempt to secure unanimity. On the Persian side, speeches relating to war and the argumentation and tactics used to establish alliances correspond quite closely to Greek practices, going some way towards overturning any simple binary opposition between Greeks and barbarians. The following analysis first examines Herodotus side by side with the early rhetorical handbooks and his literary predecessors and successors and tracks

1 Cf. Stadter (2012b: 52): “Thucydides learned from Herodotus how the ironic clash of high ideals and self-interest works itself out in historical events”.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��5 | doi ��.��63/9789004283589_005 172 CHAPTER 3 down similar motifs (3.1). It then offers a definition and typology of the arguments (topoi) and devices used in alliance speeches in the Histories (3.2). The next section (3.3) involves the attentive reading of Greek case studies. The final section (3.4) provides a short survey of Persian alliance strategies.

3.1 Literary Tradition and Early Rhetorical Handbooks

The first specific treatment of speeches relating to alliances is in the Rhetoric to Alexander 1424b27–1425a8, a section which discusses leagues and cov- enants with other states (Rh. Al. 1424b27–8: περὶ συμμαχιῶν καὶ τῶν πρὸς τὰς ἄλλας πόλεις συμβολαίων) and lists them as one of the main themes of parlia- mentary speeches. After relating some of the reasons for the establishment of alliances,2 the rhetorician turns to the arguments suitable for pleading for and rejecting alliances:

δεῖ δέ, ὅταν συναγορεύειν βούλῃ τῇ γινομένῃ συμμαχίᾳ, τὸν καιρὸν τοιοῦτον ὑπάρχοντα ἐμφανίζειν, καὶ δεικνύναι τοὺς τὴν συμμαχίαν ποιουμένους μάλιστα μὲν δικαίους ὄντας καὶ πρότερόν τι τῇ πόλει ἀγαθὸν πεποιηκότας καὶ δύναμιν μεγάλην ἔχοντας καὶ πλησίον τοῖς τόποις κατοικοῦντας, εἰ δὲ μή, τούτων ἅπερ ἂν ὑπάρχῃ, ταῦτα συνάγειν. ὅταν δὲ διακωλύῃς τὴν συμμαχίαν, ἐμφανίζειν ἐνδέχεται πρῶτον μὲν ὡς οὐκ ἀνάγκη ποιεῖσθαι νῦν αὐτήν, ἔπειθ’ ὡς οὐ δίκαιοι τυγχάνουσιν ὄντες, εἶθ’ ὡς πρότερον ἡμᾶς κακῶς πεποιηκότες, εἰ δὲ μή, ὡς μακρὰν τοῖς τόποις ἀπέχοντες καὶ οὐχ ὑπάρχοντες δυνατοὶ κατὰ τοὺς προσήκοντας παραγενέσθαι καιρούς. (Rh. Al. 1424b35–1425a6)

When one wishes to support the formation of an alliance it is necessary to show that the situation is of this nature, and to prove if possible that the contracting nation is reliable in character, and has done the state some service previously, and is very powerful and a near neighbour, or failing this, you must collect together whichever of these advantages do exist. When you are opposing the alliance you can show first that it is not necessary to make it now, secondly that the proposed allies are not really reliable, thirdly that they have treated us badly before, or if not, that they are remote in locality and not really able to come to our assistance on the suitable occasions.

2 See Rh. Al. 1424b29–33: “it is necessary to secure allies when people by themselves are weak or when a war is expected, or to make an alliance with one nation because it is thought that this will deter another nation from war”. Alliance Speeches 173

This speech category is rather flexible since, due to its symbouleutic nature and the war context, it presents similarities with other war-time speeches such as those urging war (see Rh. Al. 1425a9–28) and pre-battle speeches. Both alliance speeches and speeches arguing for war feature appeals to the expediency (συμφέρον) of the addressee. The Rhetoric to Alexander classifies expediency as one of the common topics of deliberative speeches (Rh. Al. 1422a4–15), and engages with it again when addressing the structure of speeches of this kind. There it is made clear that the orator must show his audience that his suggestions are expedient (Rh. Al. 1436b10, 31, 36; 1438b19; 1439a8–40). It is worth noting, however, that this handbook links the expedient with the just and the honourable almost without exception. In Rhetoric 1359b33–1360a5 Aristotle lists comparable arguments in his discussion of war and peace, one of the most important topics of deliberative oratory. The emphasis he places on personal advantage is even greater, as he considers expediency the main purpose of the deliberative orator, to which the honourable and the just are merely complementary (Rh. 1358b20–8).3 Elsewhere in his Rhetoric, Aristotle closely links the just with the expedient. For example, he says that justice is a good thing because it is expedient for the common good (Rh. 1362b27–8: καὶ τὸ δίκαιον· συμφέρον γάρ τι κοινῇ ἐστιν). In another place, he states that forensic oratory should be of a moral character and, if this is incredible, the reason of expediency should be added; if there is no such reason, the orator should say that this is his nature as “no one believes that a man ever does anything of his own free will except from motives of self- interest” (Rh. 1417a16–35).4 Several scholars have located alliance arguments in Thucydidean speeches that match those in the Rhetoric to Alexander.5 A few clusters of passages stand out: the speech of the Corcyreans at Athens (Thuc. 1.32–6); the speech of the Mytileneans at Sparta (Thuc. 3.9–14); the Spartan speech at Athens (Thuc. 4.17–20); and the debate at Camarina (Thuc. 6.75–88). Major recurring themes include past favours which create a kind of friendship and/or the need for repayment of previous service (e.g. Thuc. 1.40.5, 41.2), and the self-interest of the addressee.6

3 Cf. Arist. Rh. 1362a17–21, 1417b34–6 (on deliberative). The speeches of the respective orators do include other arguments but these are the primary ones. 4 On justice, self-interest and their rhetorical importance in Aristotle’s Rhetoric, see Pelling 2012: 297–301. 5 See Macleod 1983: 64–78; Hornblower 1987: 46–52; 1996: 83–4; Pelling 2012: 284–9. 6 E.g. Thuc. 1.33.1: the addressee will receive the gratitude of the speaker and his power will grow since the power of the speaker will add to it; Thuc. 1.36.3: the addressee protects himself 174 CHAPTER 3

Kinship is a third key theme. This is employed perhaps as often as past favours and the Rhetoric to Alexander catalogues it among the topics recommended when one wants to make war (Rh. Al. 1425a14–15). According to Aristotle, kinship is but one of several forms of friendship which may also manifest itself as companionship or intimacy (Rh. 1381b34). The argument from friendship, or goodwill (εὔνοια), has a double effect as it relates closely to both the ethos (Rh. 1378a6–8; cf. 1380b35–6) and the pathos (Rh. 1378a18–19) of the speech. The author of the Rhetoric to Alexander also highlights the importance of securing the audience’s goodwill in deliberative speeches (Rh. Al. 1436b18–29). Friendship (φιλία), gratitude (χάρις) and compassion (ἔλεος) are the types of feelings a deliberative orator, and particularly one aiming at getting the audience to aid a state or individual, should appeal to (Rh. Al. 1439b15–36; and again on friendship 1440a26–9). The importance of kinship in diplomacy in Thucydides’ History cannot be overemphasized. In this background, kinship myths—employed explicitly and implicitly—occupy a central place.7 Mythical kinship ties play a prominent role in the disputes over Corcyra and Potidea which lead to the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War. The Peloponnesian War is itself presented as a conflict between the two major ethnic groups, the Dorians and the Ionians.8 That Thucydides consistently rebuts the sincerity or significance of kinship claims in both his narrative and his speeches9 is part of his pragmatic outlook and in the context of a war where motives are corrupt and ideals cast aside.10 To mention

by helping the speaker; Thuc. 3.13.3–7; 4.17.1. Cf. the rhetorically skilful manner in which the Corcyreans, in the absence of prior service or alliance, consciously emphasize the benefits and gratitude the Athenians will derive from helping them (Thuc. 1.32.1). 7 See e.g. Thuc. 1.71.4, 95.1, 124.1; 6.88.7. 8 On kinship in Thucydides, see Hornblower 1996: 61–80; 2004: 115–19 (in association with choral lyric poetry); Jones 1999: 29–31; Curty 1994; Crane 1996: 147–61; Mitchell 1997 (passim); Fragoulaki 2013. 9 See e.g. how Hermocrates initially rejects the significance of the ethnic factor (Dorian- Ionian) in Thuc. 4.61.2–3 and how he later affirms it in Thuc. 6.77.1, 79.2; or how he twice pins down and reprimands the similar attitude of the Athenians towards their own kinsmen in Thuc. 6.76.2 and 4.61.2–4; and how Thucydides, in his own voice, dwells on colonial relationships in the Sikelika (Thuc. 6.2–5), but then acknowledges kinship claims as a pretext and Athenian self-interest as the true cause for the Sicilian expedition (Thuc. 6.6.1, 24.3). 10 On the pragmatic character of Peloponnesian and Athenian speeches in Thucydides, see Price 2001: 151–69. But cf. Pelling’s defense of Thucydides (2012: 306–12): morality and power are exploited in speeches, with an increasing space devoted to expediency Alliance Speeches 175 only a few instances, moral arguments by the Corinthians and Corcyreans in book 1 ( justice), by the Plataeans (their service in the Persian Wars in the Plataean debate at 3.53–68), and by the Melians ( justice in the Melian debate at 5.84–113) are deemed irrelevant and are discarded by their respective audiences. Thucydides’ Euphemus presents the opportunistic attitude exhibited in the war in a nutshell: “when a man or a city exercises absolute power, the logical course is the course of self-interest, and ties of blood exist only when they can be relied upon; one must choose one’s friends and enemies according to the circumstances on each particular occasion” (6.85.1).11 Relevant themes in the context of alliances go still further back. The Homeric embassy to Achilles in Iliad 9 furnishes a nice example. At the instigation of Nestor, the people chosen to address Achilles are those Achaeans dearest to him, as both Achilles himself and Ajax point out (9.204: φίλτατοι ἄνδρες; 9.642: κήδιστοί τ᾽ ἔμεναι καὶ φίλτατοι ὅσσοι Ἀχαιοί). Their selection is calculated to corroborate the ethos of the embassy and produce pathos on the part of the addressee. Considerable emphasis is laid on friendship/companionship through repeated requests to Achilles to help the rest of the Achaeans, his comrades, who honoured him with much love.12 The reward the speakers promise Achilles in exchange for his help touches on the addressee’s self- interest (9.260–98). Of the arguments used, the excellence of the addressee prevails: Achilles is presented as the only one who can help the Achaeans in their distress. This theme resonates moderately with the last rhetorical

as the war progresses, but this does not merely indicate moral decline because (p. 307) “[e]lsewhere Thucydides does not give the impression, any more than Aristotle does, that humans care only about the expedient: think of those who ‘had some claim to nobility’ and consequently died all too soon in the plague (2.51.5)”. Note also Pelling (2012: 312): “It is not surprising if such arguments [i.e. justice arguments] come to be set aside, and the effect of the war is to expose human truth as much as to impose decline . . . In Thucydides too the development has its moral and honest side. Speakers are now being frank, and that at least is no bad thing”. 11 ἀνδρὶ δὲ τυράννῳ ἢ πόλει ἀρχὴν ἐχούσῃ οὐδὲν ἄλογον ὅτι ξυμφέρον οὐδ’ οἰκεῖον ὅτι μὴ πιστόν· πρὸς ἕκαστα δεῖ ἢ ἐχθρὸν ἢ φίλον μετὰ καιροῦ γίγνεσθαι. 12 See esp. Il. 9.630–1: σχέτλιος, οὐδὲ μετατρέπεται φιλότητος ἑταίρων/ τῆς ᾗ μιν παρὰ νηυσὶν ἐτίομεν ἔξοχον ἄλλων. Konstan (2001: 31–2) observes the lack of a reference to common ethnicity not only here but in the whole of the Iliad: “It is noteworthy that nowhere in the Iliad is there an appeal to common nationality as a reason for pursuing the war against Troy; that is an argument that the embassy to Achilles (book 9) conspicuously fails to deploy in its effort to draw him back into fighting alongside the rest of the Achaeans”. But cf. above, p. 14 n. 62. 176 CHAPTER 3

prescription for making war in the Rhetoric to Alexander: “we shall magnify and amplify our own resources” (Rh. Al. 1425a27–8). A more distant paradigm is the scene between Glaucus and Diomedes in Iliad 6. Although the exchange between the heroes does not aim in effect at concluding an alliance, in the end the alleged ‘alliance’, or rather reconciliation, comes as a result of the speeches which reveal an old guest-friendship (xenia) between the families of the two enemies. Another genre that deals with alliances is tragedy. Pleas for assistance and alliance are popular among the dramatists, and hold a more or less central position within the plots of a handful of tragic plays where the focus lies especially on Athenian generosity and compassion. Some striking cases are Aeschylus’ Suppliants (although this play does not feature a supplication of Athens) and Eumenides, Euripides’ Heraclids and Suppliants, and Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus. In most of these tragedies, past (mythical) friendship is used as an argument to justify present requests for friendship/alliance. In the Eumenides, the alliance between Athens and Argos occupies an essential place and, therefore, stronger affinities with rhetorical prescriptions can be detected, mainly regarding the benefits for both parties.13 Thucydides provides us with the most easily identifiable parallels, but the currency of similar topics in the literature of the period and the literary tradition plainly show that he was not the only source the handbooks could draw from. Hornblower proposes a two-way influence: Thucydides worked in an environment where rhetoric was flourishing and in turn his work exercised influence on the later rhetorical handbooks.14 Part of this environment was Herodotus as well. His alliance rhetoric makes use of arguments which Thucydides develops later, and which are listed by the Rhetoric to Alexander and Aristotle’s Rhetoric. Without trying to impose later categories on a much earlier text, I argue that Herodotus was one of the tributaries which shaped the later rhetorical treat- ments of the alliance motif. In a brilliant piece, Pelling15 recently pointed out some similarities between Herodotus, the Rhetoric to Alexander, and Aristotle’s Rhetoric, but there is more to be said in that respect. Many formulaic elements to request alliance listed in the Rhetoric to Alexander are already to be found in Herodotus. The friendship argument, both as kinship and friendly disposition through previous good service, the justice of the request (framed as protection of freedom), the wealth and the power to be gained from the alliance, and the imminent conflict occur in Herodotus, as

13 See also Pelling 2012: 286–7, with nn. 11 and 12. 14 See Hornblower 1987: 49–52; 1996: 83–4. Cf. Pelling 2012: 285–6. 15 Pelling 2012: 286, 301–5. Alliance Speeches 177 we shall see in detail in the next section (3.2), and in the Rhetoric to Alexander (alliance speeches and speeches urging war), as well as in Aristotle’s Rhetoric. There are also analogies between Herodotus and the recommendations of Aristotle’s Rhetoric on expediency as the primary aim of deliberative speeches as well as on the importance of goodwill (εὔνοια) to a persuasive speech as a register to reinforce ethos and pathos. Another interesting parallel occurs in Hdt. 6.108, when the Spartans reject an alliance with the Plataeans using the excuse that they live far away and that the Plataeans may be enslaved several times before the Spartans even heard of it. This corresponds to the prescription for opposing an alliance on grounds of remote locality in Rh. Al. 1425a4–6. This aspect of closeness (in terms of the proximity of the places to be conquered to one another) plays a key role in Aristagoras’ speeches to Artaphrenes and Cleomenes, as we shall soon see in more detail, and is employed with slight variations and linked to ease and self-interest. Expediency and kinship, two major Thucydidean concepts, are already first- line in the Histories. It is also interesting to see that, by contrast to Thucydides’ nakedly pragmatic motivation, Herodotus’ depiction of considerably murkier motivation seems to be closer to the rhetorical treatises with their combination of the expedient with the just and honourable, even if the role of the latter two is sometimes conceived as secondary. A quick look at Xenophon shows the popularity of corresponding arguments well into the fourth century. Hellenica 6.3.6 offers a nice extension of the kinship motif in a plea for an alliance. Before the battle of Leuctra, the Athenians ask the Thebans to send ambassadors with them to Sparta to make peace (372/1 b.c.). At Sparta, the Athenian Callias narrates the popular myth of Triptolemus in a uniquely innovative version which closely connects Triptolemus, viz. Athens, with Sparta: Athens gave the gift of grain to the rest of the Greeks and first to the Spartans (Xen. Hell. 6.3.6). The myth not only strengthens the bonds between Athenians and Spartans but also reminds the Spartans of their debt to the Athenians. A few chapters later, when the Athenians discuss their strategy towards Sparta after its defeat at Leuctra, ambassadors from Sparta and its allies suggest an alliance to the Athenian assembly. The Phliasian Procles refers to the great reputation of the Athenians as protectors of the weak, fear- ful and oppressed and specifically mentions the help given to the Argives and the Heraclids (Xen. Hell. 6.5.45–7). Such examples, based on mythological precedents, are evidently closer to tragedy and, in the field of historiography, to Herodotus; and they tally with arguments of friendship in proposing an alliance. Other motifs include the benefit of the party to which the alliance is being proposed (e.g. Xen. Hell. 6.5.41, 45: the worth and bravery of the Spartans, the value of their friendship). 178 CHAPTER 3

3.2 Alliance Motifs in Herodotus

Given the generic plasticity of alliance speeches and the fact that, apart from the recommendations in the Rhetoric to Alexander, there is no other subject- specific template for arguments of this kind, my principal criteria for identifying specific speeches as those arguing for alliance have been the comparable circumstances and the aim of the speech in question. Along these lines, in deliberative speeches aiming at achieving alliance a party tries to persuade another party: a) to lend its help in order to face an enemy (on the Greek side); b) to ally with it so as to enjoy the benefits of such an arrangement (on the Persian side); c) not to ally with the rival party; d) to take a neutral stance in an impending conflict. The most common words that refer to alliances and allies in Herodotus are συμμαχίη16 and σύμμαχος17 respectively. Ὁμαιχμίη is an alternative word for alliance and is employed once in a Greek (7.145.1) and once in a Persian context (8.140α.4). The Herodotean speeches which meet the above criteria, and may therefore qualify as alliance speeches are the following: the Naxians, Aristagoras and Artaphrenes (5.30–1), Aristagoras and Cleomenes (5.49–51), Aristagoras and the Athenians (5.97), the Persians and deposed Ionian tyrants (6.9.3–4), Philippides and the Spartans (6.106), the Plataeans and Spartans (6.108.2–4), the Spartans and Argives (7.148.3–149), Xerxes and the Argives (7.150.2–3), the Argives and Artaxerxes (7.151), the Greeks and Gelon (7.157–62.1), the Greeks and Corcyraeans (7.168.1), the Greeks and Cretans (7.169), the Thessalians and Greeks (7.172), the Greeks and the Locrians of Opus and Phocians (7.203), Themistocles and the Ionians (8.22.1–2), Alexander, the Spartans and the Athenians (8.140–4), Murychides and the Athenians (9.4–5), the Athenians and Spartans (9.6–11), the Megarians and Greeks (9.21.2), Hegesistratus and Leotychides (9.90.2–91.2), and Leotychides and the Ionians (9.98.2–3).18 The topoi used in alliance pleas in the Histories include appeals to friendship, freedom, the excellence and self-interest of the addressee, and the

16 The word occurs 27 times in the Histories (see Powell s.v.). 17 The word occurs 79 times in the Histories (see Powell s.v.). 18 There are also some alliance speeches given in indirect speech modes whose content is not elaborated on: Aristagoras’ renewed plea to the Athenians for help, after they abandoned the Ionians following the defeat at Ephesus (5.103.1); the appeal of the Ionian delegates first to the Spartans and then to the rest of the Greeks to liberate Ionia (8.132); the Athenians requesting the alliance of the Persians after they forced Cleomenes and his army out of their country (5.73); the Scythians asking for Cleomenes’ cooperation in a combined attack against Darius (6.84.2–3). Alliance Speeches 179 responsibility of the addressee for the war. Several other devices are used to manipulate the addressee, varying from negotiating tricks and ruses to deception and actual lying. Before we deal with each of these separately, we must note that Herodotus introduces these motifs and devices as the means of persuasion very early in his work. I should like to draw attention to four relevant cases that function programmatically for the speeches to follow. The earliest attempt to create an alliance succeeds by virtue of a ruse (1.22.1: μηχανᾶται τοιάδε). When Alyattes approaches Thrasybulus to conclude a truce, Thrasybulus pours all the grain he can find on the streets and orders the people to pretend to be drinking and feasting. Alyattes gets the impression of a wealthy, hence powerful addressee and makes an alliance, thus proving Thrasybulus’ visual rhetoric effective (1.21–2).19 A similar trick is played by Oroetes on Polycrates’ secretary, Maeandrius: Oroetes fills up eight chests with stones and covers them with a layer of gold for Maeandrius to see and report back to Polycrates, who is thus convinced to offer Oroetes his help (3.122–4).20 Our third case concerns Croesus. When the Lydian king asks for the alliance of the Spartans to attack the Persians, the excellence of the addressee features prominently in his speech as reported by his messengers (1.69.2: “I am told you are the most prominent amongst the Greeks”),21 and is conspicuously emphasized as one of the reasons for the acceptance of the alliance by the Spartans (1.70.1).22 Friendship in the form of favourable disposition through previous service plays a role too: when the Spartans wanted to buy gold from Croesus to make a statue of Apollo, he accepted no money for the gold (1.69.3–4: εὐεργεσίαι). Another two points deserve special comment here. The speech is delivered by an Eastern monarch, one who is closer to the Greeks and perhaps understands somewhat better the workings of Greek rhetoric and the temperament of the intended audience.23 The blurring of the self-other dichotomy aside, Herodotus has Croesus exploit competitive tendencies among the Greeks and Spartan aspirations to singularity when singling them out from all other Greeks.

19 Cf. Thrasybulus’ other visual display to Periander’s messenger (5.92ζ.1–η.1). On the power of visual rhetoric, see Murnaghan 2001 (esp. on Thrasybulus pp. 63–4, 66). Note also that the word σύμμαχος occurs here for the first time in the work. 20 Cf. the way the Egestans deceive the Athenians into allying with them in Thuc. 6.46 (note 6.46.3: οἱ δὲ Ἐγεσταῖοι τοιόνδε τι ἐξετεχνήσαντο). 21 ὑμέας γὰρ πυνθάνομαι προεστάναι τῆς Ἑλλάδος. 22 τούτων τε ὦν εἵνεκεν οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι τὴν συμμαχίην ἐδέξαντο, καὶ ὅτι ἐκ πάντων σφέας προκρίνας Ἑλλήνων αἱρέετο φίλους. 23 Cf. Hdt. 1.29.1: Croesus’ court was open to all the great Greek teachers of that period; 1.94.1: the Lydian customs are very similar to the Greek. See also Pelling 1997a; 2006a: 172–3. 180 CHAPTER 3

Finally, the Scythians in book 4 threaten their neighbours that, if they do not help them to ward off the Persians, they will either abandon their country or come to terms with the enemies (4.118.2).24 That this is merely a rhetorical trick is made clear by the following narrative: no intention of the Scythians subjecting themselves to the Persians is mentioned again, but they decide firmly on resistance instead (4.120.1). The self-interest of the addressee is stressed when the Scythians try to convince the leaders of the neighbouring nations, through an elaborate argument, that by helping them they will actually help themselves, for the Persians intend to subjugate them also (4.118.3–5). There is a compelling intratextual parallel between the Scythian attitude and the Athenian one at the beginning of book 9,25 discussed in the course of this chapter, which should be seen against Herodotus’ straddling of ethnic categories. This becomes all the more relevant if one recalls the analogies between the Athenians and the Scythians suggested in the Scythian logos.26 This discourse of alliance that takes shape in the earlier books is reworked in more elaborate and systematic ways in the later books. Friendship comes first. Friendship (φιλία), or goodwill (εὔνοια), is mentioned either in alliance speeches as an argument to increase the chances of persuasion, or in the narrative to explain the circumstances which allow a speaker to approach the specific addressee. Kinship, a special type of friendship, is used either as factual kinship, through racial or marital relationships, or as suggestive/metaphorical kinship, reflected in guest-friendships between individuals or groups (xenia) or in bonds of trust between a state and a foreign individual (proxenia, which initially developed from xenia).27 A particularly prominent and handy type of kinship bonds is mythical kinship. Kinship based on myth is especially powerful given the authority of myth, and practical by virtue of myth’s adaptability.28 Taking into account the significance of mythical kinship for this kind of deliberative speeches we may speak, with Jones, of ‘kinship diplomacy’

24 ὑμεῖς ὦν μηδενὶ τρόπῳ ἐκ τοῦ μέσου κατήμενοι περιίδητε ἡμέας διαφθαρέντας, ἀλλὰ τὠυτὸ νοήσαντες ἀντιάζωμεν τὸν ἐπιόντα. οὔκων ποιήσετε ταῦτα; ἡμεῖς μὲν πιεζόμενοι ἢ ἐκλείψομεν τὴν χώρην ἢ μένοντες ὁμολογίῃ χρησόμεθα. 25 A similar point about the Scythian speech and the Athenians is raised by Macan (1895: 83): “With some very trifling verbal changes the speech which follows would have done admirably in the mouth of an Athenian addressing the congress at the Isthmos, before the invasion of Xerxes”. 26 See Hartog 1988: 198–204; Munson 2001: 107–18 (analogies with both Sparta and Athens); cf. Irwin and Greenwood 2007a: 23–4. 27 See ocd4 s.vv. friendship, ritualised and proxenos/proxeny. 28 On the significant place of myth in ancient politics, see Hall 2007; Buxton 1994: 193–8. Alliance Speeches 181 in Herodotus.29 The friendship motif, central in the rhetorical handbooks, explains and reinforces the authority of the speaker as well as establishing him as worthy of confidence (ethos). On the other hand, it achieves the captatio benevolentiae and thus creates a strong obligation on the part of the addressee to help the speaker (pathos). Strong kinship claims are made by the Argives and, surprisingly, by the Persians. A story was told around Greece that during the Persian Wars Xerxes asked the Argives to remain neutral on the grounds that Argives and Persians were both descended from Perseus, through their ancestor Perses, who was a son of the Argive hero Perseus and Andromeda (7.150).30 The argument is used reciprocally, since Xerxes also said that kinship with the Argives pre- vented the Persians from fighting their ancestors.31 Later, in the 460s, the Argives themselves sent representatives to Artaxerxes to ask if they were still on friendly terms (φιλίην) with the Persians on the basis of Xerxes’ earlier statement (7.151).32 Before the Ionian revolt certain Naxian oligarchs who have been forced into exile approach Aristagoras of Miletus and ask for his help to recover their position at home on account of their previous xenia with Histiaeus (5.30.2: ξεῖνοι). Aristagoras claims Artaphrenes is a friend of his, hence it is easier to approach him (5.30.5: φίλος). When addressing the Spartan king Cleomenes to ask for his help for the Ionian revolt, the same Aristagoras refers to the common gods and Greek origin of the Ionians (5.49.3: νῦν ὦν πρὸς θεῶν τῶν Ἑλληνίων ῥύσασθε Ἴωνας ἐκ δουλοσύνης, ἄνδρας ὁμαίμονας).33 In his speech to the Athenian assembly, Aristagoras makes this argument even more intimate, emphasizing the ‘mother-daughter’ relationship between Athens and Miletus (5.97.2: οἱ Μιλήσιοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων εἰσὶ ἄποικοι).34

29 See Jones 1999: 19–20, 23–6, 28–9. 30 For a variant of this story, see Diod. 10.27. 31 For a discussion of this episode, see Georges 1994: 66–71; Patterson 2010: 46–53. Cf. also below, pp. 235–6. 32 On the use of kinship diplomacy by the Argives, see Hornblower 20114: 77–9. 33 On the effect of Aristagoras’ argument on the Dorian Cleomenes, see Hornblower 2007a: 172. On the attractive but quite remote possibility that Aristagoras might here be vaguely referring to the tradition that Miletus was founded from Dorian Crete (which would strengthen the bond between Miletus and Dorian Sparta), see Hornblower 2013: 164. 34 Cf. Hegesistratus’ appeal at 9.90.2. Immerwahr (1966: 301 n. 180) notes that there is no mention of the particular colonial relationship between the Ionians and the Athenians in Hegesistratus’ speech, but only after the battle at 9.106.2–4. This may be because such an argument would be pointless as the commander-in-chief of the Greek army, and the one who has the last word, is a Dorian, the Spartan Leotychides. On the role of Dorianism 182 CHAPTER 3

Kinship is the main reason that leads the Greeks to send embassies to the most powerful Greek communities (Argos, Sicily, Corcyra, Crete) to request their help to repel the barbarians (7.145.2). The address of the Thessalians to the Greeks, “Men of Hellas” (7.172.2: Ἄνδρες Ἕλληνες), also hints at kinship ties. Themistocles uses the kinship argument in his message to the Ionians, inscribed on the rocks of Euboea (8.22.1).35 And again kinship is behind Leotychides’ message to the Ionians fighting with the Persians (9.98.2). Mardonius’ choice of Alexander as his envoy to the Athenians to deliver a submission offer is backed up by the narrative which qualifies Alexander as the most appropriate person: he is both a diplomatic representative (πρόξεινος) and a benefactor (εὐεργέτης) of the Athenians, and connected with the Persians through his sister’s marriage to the Persian Bubares (8.136.1). Moreover, Alexander opens his speech to the Athenians with an emphatic reference to his goodwill (8.140β.1: εὐνοίη).36 A third reference to friendly bonds occurs this time in the Athenian answer to Alexander (8.143.3: πρόξεινόν τε καὶ φίλον).37 Conversely, the absence of previous good service (7.158.2: οὔτε ἐμεῦ εἵνεκα ἤλθετε βοηθήσοντες) is used by Gelon as an argument to reject an alliance with the Greeks (7.158.1–2). The next key leitmotif is the self-interest38 of the addressee. It is always necessary to persuade the other party that the alliance is to its own advantage, either because the enemy is common or because the addressee is going to enjoy great benefits—wealth and property, or friendship, honour and good repute—39if he accepts the alliance, or if the impending conflict is successful. This is another way of increasing the pathos of the speech, thus achieving the captatio benevolentiae. Xerxes tells the Argives he will hold them in greater esteem than anyone else if they remain neutral in the war and if all goes as planned (7.150.2: ἢν γὰρ ἐμοὶ γένηται κατὰ νόον, οὐδαμοὺς μέζονας ὑμέων ἄξω). Alexander says that, if the Athenians accept the alliance with the Persians, they will receive a whole chain of benefits, including taking their land back and any other territory they wish,

and Ionianism in the fifth and sixth centuries b.c., see Alty 1982; cf. Irwin and Greenwood 2007a: 29–33. 35 ἄνδρες Ἴωνες, οὐ ποιέετε δίκαια ἐπὶ τοὺς πατέρας στρατευόμενοι καὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα καταδουλούμενοι. 36 Cf. the emphasis on goodwill in Brasidas’ speeches in Thuc. 4.87.2–3, 114.4. 37 More on this below, pp. 224-5. 38 Note, however, that the verb συμφέρω occurs only four times in the sense ‘to be profitable’ (see Powell s.v.). We also come across the adjective σύμφορος ‘expedient’ once in 8.60α. For a brief discussion of self-interest in Herodotus, see Scardino 2007: 360–3. 39 Cf. Arist. Rh. 1362b10–28, 1359b33–1360a5; Rh. Al. 1422a4–15. Alliance Speeches 183 having self-government, having their burnt temples rebuilt (8.140α.2), and becoming friends with Xerxes (8.140β.4). The Greek heralds bind their interest to Gelon’s, trying to persuade him that he is the next target of the Persians (7.157.3).40 Hegesistratus appeals to the profit the Greeks will get out of helping the Ionians: “they will have such a prey as never again” (9.90.2). Aristagoras makes systematic use of the expediency argument in all his speeches. This creates strong irony since he acts purely out of self-interest, a topic to which we will return later. More specifically, Aristagoras tends to offer power/empire to all his interlocutors in order to secure their compli- ance—including Athens, where he is said to repeat the arguments used with Cleomenes (5.97.1–2). Aristagoras promises Artaphrenes that his involvement in the Naxian expedition will afford him a double advantage: Aristagoras will provide him with a large amount of money above the expenses of the expedition; and Artaphrenes will please the king by adding to the Persian conquests not only the prosperous island of Naxos (5.28), but also the Cyclades, which benefit from a strategic position, and wealthy Euboea (5.31.2–3). The same practice is used at Sparta in its most elaborate form, where almost one-third of the speech describes the wealth of the vast Persian empire that the Spartans will enjoy if they help the Ionians (5.49.4–8). Self-interest, as in the wealth of Asia, is stressed once again in Aristagoras’ speech at Athens (5.97.1: περὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἀσίῃ). He does something similar with the Naxians to get their consent to secure the aid of Artaphrenes, who controls the coastal dis- trict of Asia and commands a large army and navy (5.30.5).41 In their speech to the Spartans at the start of book 9 and in an effort to get Spartan help, the Athenians also point out that they recognize it would be more to their benefit to come to an agreement with Xerxes (9.7α.2).42 Another common argument involves the excellence of the addressee. The people addressed are said to have the material means—money and army— and the qualities—bravery, experience in war—to help the party asking for alliance. This argument, used in either speeches or narrative, proves the speaker is targeting the right people, since the addressee is in a position to help. In addition, it flatters the addressee, who is singled out from the rest, and stresses the dependency of the speaker, thereby inviting a mood conducive to a positive response.

40 βοηθέων γὰρ ἡμῖν σεωυτῷ τιμωρέεις “by supporting us you will be defending yourself”. They thus recall the speech of the Scythians in book 4, on which see above, p. 180. 41 Cf. the use of the word kerdos in Themistocles’ speech at 8.60γ (κερδανέομεν ‘we will benefit’) to convince Eurybiades to fight at Salamis. 42 ἐπιστάμενοί τε ὅτι κερδαλεώτερόν ἐστι ὁμολογέειν τῷ Πέρσῃ μᾶλλον ἤ περ πολεμέειν. 184 CHAPTER 3

Accordingly, Aristagoras tells the Naxians he will appeal to Artaphrenes because of his great power and resources (5.30.5). The narrative explains Aristagoras’ later attempt at Sparta: he is in search of a powerful ally to revolt against the Persians (5.38.2: συμμαχίης . . . μεγάλης). This argument is worked over and employed in his speech to Cleomenes: the Spartans are the leaders of Greece and the best fighters (5.49.2–3: . . . προέστατε τῆς Ἑλλάδος . . . ὑμεῖς τε τὰ ἐς τὸν πόλεμον ἐς τὰ μέγιστα ἀνήκετε ἀρετῆς πέρι). The truth of this claim is frequently demonstrated in the narrative.43 Aristagoras’ subsequent decision to request help from Athens is explained in the preceding narrative, which relates how the Athenians were liberated from the tyrants and, consequently, grew in reputation and strength.44 Herodotus says that, by the time Aristagoras visits Athens, it is the most powerful city in Greece after Sparta (5.97.1); Aristagoras himself repeats this argument in his speech to the Athenians (5.97.2: οἰκός σφεας εἴη ῥύεσθαι δυναμένους μέγα).45 Gelon is presented in the narrative as far more powerful than anyone else of Greek nationality,46 while this argument is also employed by the Greeks in their speech to Gelon (7.157.2).47 An appeal to the justice of the request, and more specifically to freedom, appears very often in alliance speeches when Greeks address Greeks. The fight for freedom against the barbarians, who want to impose slavery on the Greeks, is used as an argument to unite all Greeks against the common threat (5.49.2–3; 6.106.2; 7.157.2; 8.22.1, 142.3; 9.90.2, 98.3). An explicit connection between justice and kinship as well as freedom occurs in Themistocles’ written message to the Ionians (8.22.1: οὐ ποιέετε δίκαια ἐπὶ τοὺς πατέρας στρατευόμενοι καὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα καταδουλούμενοι).48 The just nature of the party requesting alliance,

43 Cf. the Spartan performance in the battles of Thyrea (1.82) and Thermopylae, as well as Demaratus’ conversations with Xerxes (7.104.5, 209.4). 44 See Hdt. 5.78: μακρῷ πρῶτοι ἐγένοντο; 5.91.1–2: νόῳ λαβόντες ὡς ἐλεύθερον μὲν ἐὸν τὸ γένος τὸ Ἀττικὸν ἰσόρροπον τῷ ἑωυτῶν ἂν γίνοιτο . . . δόξαν δὲ φύσας αὐξάνεται. 45 On the vagueness as to the subject of the participle δυναμένους (either the Athenians or the Milesians), see below, pp. 191–2. 46 See Hdt. 7.145.2: τὰ δὲ Γέλωνος πρήγματα μεγάλα ἐλέγετο εἶναι, οὐδαμῶν Ἑλληνικῶν τῶν οὐ πολλὸν μέζω. See also the flashback digression on Gelon’s rise to power in 7.153–6 and esp. the concluding sentence of 7.156: τοιούτῳ μὲν τρόπῳ τύραννος ἐγεγόνεε μέγας ὁ Γέλων “these tactics had enabled Gelon to become a tyrant of considerable importance”. 47 σὺ δὲ δυνάμιός τε 〈γὰρ〉 ἥκεις μεγάλης καὶ μοῖρά τοι τῆς Ἑλλάδος οὐκ ἐλαχίστη μέτα ἄρχοντί γε Σικελίης “you have come to great power and, as lord of Sicily, you have come to possess no inconsiderable portion of the Greek world”. 48 Cf. Artabanus’ advice to Xerxes not to lead the Ionians in his army against their Greek ancestors (7.51.2). Alliance Speeches 185 such as we saw in the Rhetoric to Alexander, features in Aristagoras’ speech to Artaphrenes: “it is only just that those of us who are directing the expedition should provide these [i.e. a great amount of money]” (5.31.2: ταῦτα μὲν γὰρ δίκαια ἡμέας τοὺς ἄγοντας παρέχειν). The responsibility of the addressee for the war is shrewdly mentioned in order to make the other party feel guilty and thus lend its support or remain neutral (again, the effect sought is pathos). This argument concludes Themistocles’ message to the Ionians: “either join us or remain neutral, and ask the Carians to do the same; if you cannot do either and you must fight against us, fight badly, since what is happening now has initiated on your account (ἀρχῆθεν ἡ ἔχθρη πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον ἀπ’ ὑμέων ἡμῖν γέγονε)” (8.22.2). This is also what the Spartans tell the Athenians: “It was you who started this war (ἠγείρατε γὰρ τόνδε τὸν πόλεμον ὑμεῖς)—our wishes were not considered. Right from the start (ἀρχῆθεν), it was a war for your territories only—now all Greece is involved” (8.142.2).49 Alongside these arguments other ‘rhetorical devices’ are used. These I classify into: deception that over-emphasizes the material benefits of the victory and the ease of the venture, use of a strategy with two alternative benefits, false claims about reinforcements being on their way, threat to leave one’s post or to cooperate with the enemy if help is not given, and attribution of the alliance speech to a higher power. Deception is Aristagoras’ distinctive tactic in all his speeches—we shall discuss these speeches independently in the next section. The ‘two alternative benefits’ is a method put into practice by Themistocles and Leotychides. After the battle at Artemisium and in his message to the Ionians, Themistocles writes: “either join us or remain neutral, and ask the Carians to do the same; if you cannot do either and you must fight against us, fight badly” (8.22.2). The authorial commentary following the speech explains Themistocles’ double intention (8.22.3: Θεμιστοκλέης δὲ ταῦτα ἔγραφε, δοκέειν ἐμοί, ἐπ᾽ ἀμφότερα νοέων): he aimed at either taking the Ionians on to the Greek side or slandering them to Xerxes, were he to learn about the message. Either anticipated development would be to the Greeks’ advantage.50 The narrative explicitly states that Leotychides seeks the same options as Themistocles in his speech to the Ionians who fight on the Persian side at the battle of Mycale (9.98.4: ὡυτὸς δὲ οὗτος ἐὼν τυγχάνει νόος τοῦ πρήγματος καὶ ὁ Θεμιστοκλέος ὁ ἐπ’ Ἀρτεμισίῳ).51 By

49 On the implications of ἀρχῆθεν here, see below, p. 222 and nn. 187–8. 50 Cf. 8.19.1: νόῳ δὲ λαβὼν ὁ Θεμιστοκλέης ὡς εἰ ἀπορραγείη ἀπὸ τοῦ βαρβάρου τό τε Ἰωνικὸν φῦλον καὶ τὸ Καρικόν, οἷοί τε εἴησαν ἂν τῶν λοιπῶν κατύπερθε γενέσθαι. 51 According to Diodorus 11.34.4–5, Leotychides exercised another effective trick, this time on the Greeks fighting on the Greek side, when he announced the Greek victory at Plataea 186 CHAPTER 3 pointing out the similarity between the strategies of the two generals, Herodotus guides his readers and encourages them to think in terms of patterns. False claims that reinforcements are on their way are put forward by the Greeks in their speech to the Locrians of Opus and the Phocians (7.203). To persuade them to join in the battle of Thermopylae, the Greeks claim that the forces at Thermopylae (3,100 soldiers in total)52 are only the forerunners of a larger allied army expected any moment now. In the text we read that Sparta would send more soldiers to Thermopylae after the feast of the Carneia, and so would the Peloponnesian allies after the Olympic festival, as they did not expect the battle to be fought so soon (7.206.1–2).53 However, the following narrative, where Leonidas reiterates his request for help, undercuts the truth of their intentions (7.207): it turns out that the promised forces have not yet been sent, otherwise they would have already been on their way. The argument about the reinforcements may well be a ‘negotiating trick’, fabricated to reassure and encourage the addressee in a persuasive manner.54

as it only became known later that the two battles (Plataea and Mycale) took place on the same day. Due to the long distance it would take a long time for the news of the victory to travel to Mycale, hence Leotychides invented a supposed victory (but cf. Green 1996: 281–2; 2006: 93 n. 146). A similar trick was played by the Persians at Mycale to lift up the spirit of their army: they spread the rumour that Xerxes himself was coming to help them with a great power (Diod. 11.35.4). 52 See Hdt. 7.202, 207, 208.1. 53 Some scholars emphasize the importance of the religious grounds for the Spartans (Popp 1957: 126–7; Goodman and Holladay 1986: 157–8; Lazenby 1993: 135). Others insist on the secondary role of Thermopylae compared to Artemisium (How and Wells 1912: 371; Hammond 1996: 12). On the infamous reluctance of the Peloponnesians to dispatch their forces far away from the Peloponnese to the north as an additional reason for the small size of Leonidas’ army, see Evans 1969: 393–4; Lazenby 1993: 136. But, had they considered the role of Thermopylae secondary, they would not have put a king in charge of the force. And, if they actually considered the Isthmus as the last line of defence, then they would have probably sent adequate forces with the king for this purpose (Evans 1969: 393–5; Simpson 1972: 4; cf. Macan 1908a: 309). The narrative confirms that Leonidas and his army, though small in numbers, were holding the pass until Ephialtes revealed to Xerxes the Anopaea pass and Thermopylae were overturned (Hdt. 7.210–11, 213). 54 The validity of the argument is further decreased by certain syntactical structures: it is given in indirect speech in the form of dependent infinitives (7.203.2: εἶναι, εἶναι, ἔσεσθαι, ὀφείλειν) and indirect statements introduced by the conjunction ὡς—which adds to the subjectivity of the claim—followed by optatives (7.203.1: ἥκοιεν, εἶεν, εἴη). Cf. also Macan (1908a: 304): “the change in construction (ὡς . . . ἥκοιεν, εἶεν, εἴη bis, to οὐ γὰρ εἶναι κτλ.) coincides with the transit from fact to argument”. Alliance Speeches 187

Thessalians, Megarians and even Athenians resort to threats of abandoning their post and/or siding with the enemy, if faced with lack of support. In 7.172.2–3 the Thessalians warn the Athenians that they shall come to terms with the Persians if the Athenians do not help them to defend the passage past mount Olympus (7.172.2: εἰ μὴ πέμψετε, ἐπίστασθε ἡμέας ὁμολογήσειν τῷ Πέρσῃ). The Athenians threaten the Spartans with an alliance with the Persians, since the Spartans have not fulfilled their promise to assist them (9.11.1–2).55 The Megarians notify the rest of the Greeks that they will quit their position unless the Greeks send some extra troops to relieve them (9.21.2). It is hard to assess the validity of these kinds of threats with certainty. But whether false or not, they function as rhetorical devices to achieve persuasion and mostly succeed in their aim. Of the three cases, the threat of the Thessalians is fulfilled as soon as the Greek allies abandon them (7.174).56 A final rhetorical ploy is to ascribe an alliance speech to an individual who possesses greater power, which confers authority on the speech and thus reinforces its effectiveness. This tactic is employed by Alexander in his address to the Athenians, when he allegedly delivers Xerxes’ ipsissima verba as reported to him by Mardonius (8.140).57

3.3 Test Cases

3.3.1 Self-Interest Cloaked: Aristagoras and the ‘Rhetoric of Deceit’ Appointed by Histiaeus the tyrant of Miletus as his deputy, Aristagoras makes his first appearance in book 5 when a group of Naxian exiles plead for his help to enable them to return to their country. Thinking this a great opportunity for himself to become the ruler of Naxos,58 Aristagoras grants their request and seeks in addition the support of Artaphrenes, to whom he promises the rule of Naxos and other neighbouring islands. Artaphrenes, with Darius’ permission, fully supports Aristagoras, but things go wrong when a dispute occurs between Aristagoras and Megabates (the Persian commander of the

55 Baragwanath (2008: 237) reads the Athenian vis-à-vis the Thessalian incident, concluding that the latter illuminates the former. 56 Themistocles effectively brings into play a similar threat at the end of his speech to Eurybiades in 8.62.2: “if you do not fight the Persian at Salamis, the Athenians will abandon the Greeks and move to the Italian Siris”. 57 This is discussed below, pp. 218–20. 58 On the importance of Naxos in the Ionian revolt, in the expedition of Datis and Artaphrenes, and in the Peloponnesian War, see Munson 2007: 159. 188 CHAPTER 3

expedition appointed by Darius) over Megabates’ ill-treatment of a ship captain who was a guest-friend of Aristagoras. This turns into a fight over who is in control of the expeditionary force whereby Megabates, deeply upset, has his men betray Aristagoras’ plan to the people of Naxos. As a result, upon hitting Naxos the Persian force is faced with opponents well defended and prepared for a siege. The siege drags on for four months, during which time Aristagoras and the Persians use up all their resources and are forced to leave in the end. Unable to deliver what he promised Artaphrenes, Aristagoras contemplates a revolt against Persia (5.30–5) and therefore sets out for Sparta (5.38.2, 49–51) and then Athens (5.97) on a quest for potential allies. In doing this Aristagoras is presented as the typical opportunist. The arguments he uses from self-interest, friendship and excellence of the addressee tally in broad terms with the content of similar alliance speeches. But his speeches have some distinctive characteristics which allow us to speak of ‘Aristagoras’ rhetoric’, the exclusive aim of which is to deceive and promote Aristagoras’ own interests while pretending to endorse the interests of the addressee. His tailor-made rhetoric for his respective audiences is in the spotlight here.59 This rhetoric blends the ethnic categories in manifold ways, as well as painting a picture where expediency is prioritized over kinship or freedom, and is the main operating force that can both create and destroy Greek unity, or at least a sense of it. The intricate nexus of motivation anticipates that at work in the Persian Wars, while affinities are drawn with the rhetoric of other Greeks and notably that of the Persian Mardonius. Aristagorean rhetoric is represented as a stock vocabulary which includes arguments worked over each time to suit each audience. Aristagoras’ reper- toire is indeed limited but he uses it (for a while) effectively. His appeals to self- interest are always carefully tailored to the speaker in front of him at any time, while his appeal to kinship is differently formulated according to the nature of the affinity claimed at Athens and Sparta.60 The ease of the enterprise (εὐπετέως) is another motif which Aristagoras reuses with flexibility. This has an important place in his argumentation as well as in the narratorial glosses, which comment on his actions: the Persians can be easily (εὐπετέως, εὐπετέες) defeated (5.49.3–4, 97.1); Euboea can be easily (εὐπετέως, εὐπετέϊ) attacked and subjugated (5.31.3); the Spartans can easily (εὐπετέως) become masters of the whole of Asia (5.49.8); and Aristagoras can deceive the Athenians more easily

59 Branscome 2010 also emphasizes the rhetorical strategies at work in Aristagoras’ speech at Sparta to address a specific audience and achieve specific purposes. 60 Cf. Jones 1999: 25–6. Alliance Speeches 189

(εὐπετέστερον) than Cleomenes alone (5.97.2). ‘Ease’ is always the keyword to urge rash ventures.61 But in the same way the narrative undercuts the rest of Aristagoras’ arguments and proves them to be invented to produce a more attractive speech, so whatever is promised by Aristagoras to be easy eventually turns out to be very difficult.62 Not only does the expedition against Naxos fail (and Euboea remains an unrealized dream), but so does the Ionian revolt. The external audience is aware of the difficulties a fight against Persia will in effect entail. Certainly Aristagoras’ motives are a significant element. But the ease which he promises to others reflects also a serious miscalculation by Aristagoras himself about the nature of the task he has undertaken. So, though he calculatedly misleads others, he does so on the basis of his own error of judgment. Let us explore in more detail the way the narrative reveals Aristagorean rhetoric as specious and self-centred. Aristagoras has three out of four influential speeches (Naxians, Artaphrenes, Athenians) and deceit seems to be the necessary premise for success in all of them. An authorial intervention names expediency as the reason why Aristagoras is willing to help the Naxians: “This suggested to Aristagoras that if he helped the exiles to return, he himself would be ruler of Naxos; so using their friendship with Histiaeus as the pretext, he made them an offer” (5.30.3). The vocabulary used emphasizes the deception: σκῆψιν δὲ ποιεύμενος (5.30.3); μηχανήσομαι (5.30.4);63 ἐπινοέω (5.30.5); τοῦτον ὦν δoκέω τὸν ἄνδρα ποιήσειν τῶν ἂν χρηίζωμεν (5.30.5). In the last phrase Aristagoras gives himself away, as he includes himself in the first person plural verb χρηίζωμεν: Artaphrenes will do whatever the Naxians and Aristagoras want, but Aristagoras works for himself and not for the Naxians. Not that the Naxians are free from expediency either. They are delighted when Aristagoras suggests Artaphrenes as a potential ally as they hope that their countrymen and the

61 On the similar arguments about ease and expansionism in Aristagoras’ speeches to Artaphrenes and Cleomenes, see Solmsen 1943: 199. 62 Note that the adverb ῥᾳδίως has a similar meaning in Thucydides, on which see Horn- blower 1991: 241; cf. also Rood 1998a: 34 n. 30. Kallet (2001: 87–97) draws close similarities between the rhetoric and role of the Herodotean Aristagoras and his audiences on the one hand and, on the other, Thucydidean agents involved in the preliminaries to the Sicil- ian expedition. On ease as one of Aristagoras’ clichéd arguments and its further associations, see Pelling 2007: 179–83 and n. 3. 63 Cf. Hdt. 5.70.1 (Isagoras devising a plot against his political rival Cleisthenes): ἀντιτεχνᾶται τάδε; 1.60.3 (Peisistratus deceiving the Athenians): μηχανῶνται (twice). Cf. also Thuc. 5.45.2 (Alcibiades deceiving the Athenians): μηχανᾶται δὲ πρὸς αὐτοὺς τοιόνδε τι ὁ Ἀλκιβιάδης. On the use of other similar phrasing in Thucydides, including μηχανῶμαι, τεχνάζομαι, ἐπινοῶ, see Hornblower 2008: 105–6. Cf. also Schindel 1970: 286–7. 190 CHAPTER 3 inhabitants of the rest of the Cyclades will submit to them (5.30.6). In a sense, Aristagoras is indirectly raising their expectations. But Aristagoras also decides to get involved in a Greek city’s internal affairs, as the Naxian request reflects internal strife and intends to implicate Greek cities in a wider conflict that even involves Persia, and will soon turn into a proper war, in turn triggering another war between Persia and the mainland Greeks. Tellingly enough, the reason the Naxos expedition fails is disunity, the quarrel between Aristagoras and Megabates.64 With Artaphrenes, Aristagoras presses material enticements and power which square perfectly with Persian expansionism. Geography is here put into use, a template fully developed in Aristagoras’ speech at Sparta. Both the number and closeness of the islands to be conquered are appropriately emphasized:

τοῦτο δὲ νήσους βασιλέϊ προσκτήσεαι αὐτήν τε Νάξον καὶ τὰς ἐκ ταύτης ἠρτημένας, Πάρον καὶ Ἄνδρον καὶ ἄλλας τὰς Κυκλάδας καλευμένας. ἐνθεῦτεν δὲ ὁρμώμενος εὐπετέως ἐπιθήσεαι Εὐβοίῃ νήσῳ μεγάλῃ τε καὶ εὐδαίμονι, οὐκ ἐλάσσονι Κύπρου καὶ κάρτα εὐπετέϊ αἱρεθῆναι. (5.31.2–3)

Furthermore, you will win new dominions for the king, Naxos itself and the islands which are dependent on it, Paros, Andros, and the rest of those that are called Cyclades. Making these your starting point, you will easily attack Euboea, which is a great and a wealthy island, no smaller than Cyprus and very easy to take.

Kallet65 notes that reality undermines the argument here because Naxos is not at all a small island but the largest island in the Cyclades, and it is not at all close to Asia but about one hundred miles from the coast of Asia Minor. Be that as it may, Aristagoras counts on the ignorance of the internal audience (Artaphrenes) and uses geography to his own advantage. A further implication of this alluring chain of conquest is that Euboea will bring the Persians closer to the Greek mainland and will thus provide them with a valuable stepping stone. Aristagoras’ self-interest, although shrewdly covert, cannot escape the attention of the reader: the claims presented to Artaphrenes may work to Aristagoras’ benefit as well. Just before the Ionian revolt, Naxos, like Miletus, was the richest island in the Aegean (5.28). This made Naxos a desirable target for both the Persians, who had none of the islands of the

64 For Munson (2007: 162) this episode adds to the comical note of the narrative of the Ionian revolt. 65 See Kallet 2001: 91–2. Alliance Speeches 191

Cyclades under their control (5.30.6), and for Aristagoras, who anticipated that he would bring the island under his power (5.30.3).66 By the end of Aristagoras’ speech, Artaphrenes is so over-persuaded that he grants him two hundred ships—double the number Aristagoras asks for.67 But the ambitious enterprise fails and another piece of exaggerated rhetoric is unmasked later on in the narrative: though promising to offer lots of money, Aristagoras runs out of money to pay the fleet (5.35.1: ἐπίεζέ μιν ἡ δαπάνη τῆς στρατιῆς ἀπαιτεομένη).68 Aristagoras fairly easily persuades thirty thousand Athenians to help him with the Ionian revolt. And he does so using by and large the same arguments which fail to persuade at Sparta.69 Aristagoras had played the ethnic card at Sparta (“we all have the same Greek blood”). Here he tries a more promising strategy, because the relationship of the Athenians to the Milesians is closer, the latter being settlers from Athens—and kinship appears as a variation of ethnicity: οἱ Μιλήσιοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων εἰσὶ ἄποικοι, καὶ οἰκός σφεας εἴη ῥύεσθαι δυναμένους μέγα “the Milesians are colonists of the Athenians and it is only natural that the Athenians may help them, powerful as they are” (5.97.2). However, even this expression of seemingly idealistic motivation encompasses a very subtle and well-calculated indication of baseness. The syntactical ambiguity of the phrase δυναμένους μέγα, whose subject may be either the Athenians or the Milesians, leaves hardly any room for common good and nobility.70 If we take the Athenians as the subject, Aristagoras evidently thinks in terms of his interests (the Athenians are powerful). If the subject is the Milesians, then Aristagoras uses an argument about the self-interest of the Athenians, i.e. “we, the Milesians, are very powerful and you, Athenians, could benefit from this cooperation”. Herodotus exposes the rhetoric of deception exercised by Aristagoras when he famously concludes: “it seems to be easier to deceive many people than one” (5.97.2: πολλοὺς γὰρ οἶκε εἶναι εὐπετέστερον διαβάλλειν

66 Histiaeus, Aristagoras’ mentor, makes a similar offer to Darius with reference to Sardinia, the biggest of islands (5.106.6). If one recalls the prominence of Sardinia in the Ionian tradition as the symbol of an ideal place to settle a community (1.170.2; 5.124.2), Histiaeus’ promise takes a more self-serving twist: would Histiaeus actually bring this island under Darius’ power instead of establishing an Ionian community under his own power? 67 Another aspect of this development is the sense that Aristagoras does not grasp the power of the forces he unleashes. 68 This might be partly due to the protracted siege of Naxos but still shows that Aristagoras has not factored in alternative scenarios. 69 On Aristagoras’ motivation and persuasive strategies with the Spartans and Athenians, see Baragwanath 2008: 167–71. Branscome (2010: 24–5) notes a subtle differentiation in the reference to barbarian fighting in the two speeches. 70 See Baragwanath 2008: 168 and n. 17. 192 CHAPTER 3

ἢ ἕνα).71 The Athenians were certainly carried away by Aristagoras’ exaggerated rhetoric, believing that the whole enterprise would be much easier than it actually turned out to be. There is a further possibility: another way in which the Athenians were tricked could be that Aristagoras himself did not actually believe in the kinship argument as his aims in stirring up a revolt were chiefly self-centred (5.35.1–2).72 Aristagoras’ self-interest is also underlined by the narrative comment that he “promised everything that came into his head” (5.97.2),73 as well as by the authorial intervention in 5.98.1 regarding Aristagoras’ dealings with the Paeonians: “Aristagoras . . . adopted a plan of action from which no advantage could possibly accrue to the Ionians (ἐξευρὼν βούλευμα ἀπ᾽ οὗ Ἴωσι μὲν οὐδεμία ἔμελλε ὠφελίη ἔσεσθαι)—indeed he did not intend that it should, his only object being to annoy Darius”. Aristagoras’ pressing colonial kinship means that there was readiness on the part of the audience to accept this kind of argument. It is particularly telling that Aristagoras handily deploys the aspect of Ionianism that would most satisfy Athenian vanity: the colonization of Ionia, and specifically of Miletus, and not the fact that the Athenians were themselves Ionians. Then again, the fact

71 This authorial comment echoes the word easy from 5.97.1, where Aristagoras claims that the Persians are easy to beat (ὡς . . . εὐπετέες τε χειρωθῆναι εἴησαν), in the comparative neuter form (εὐπετέστερον) in a way that finely stresses the delusion of the Athenians: the Persians might be easy to beat but the Athenians are easier to persuade. The use of the optative mood with the conjunction ὡς in 5.97.1 adds to the subjectivity of the claim. The etymological meaning of διαβολή/διαβάλλω is rather neutral (‘division/divide’). In the fifth century the meaning of the word takes a negative twist and it most often denotes ‘slander’ or ‘deceit’—with numerous examples especially in forensic rhetoric, but also in comedy and historiography. On the sense and employment of διαβολή, see Carey 2004 (note esp.: “It is regularly viewed as irrelevant material intended to create prejudice, generally by distortion or falsification”). Accordingly, I variably translate διαβάλλω as ‘deceive’, ‘trick’ or ‘persuade’. Pelling (2007: 179–87), discussing the subtleties of the word, suggests that there is nothing indicating that Aristagoras is lying here and argues for a meaning more complex than merely ‘trick’. Taking the word to signify “throw words around in such a way as to wrong someone”, Pelling (2007: 184) translates διαβάλλειν as ‘put one across’. Cf. also Hornblower 2008: 338–9. 72 Cf. Baragwanath’s more tentative formulation (2008: 168): “The suggestion of righteous reasons for joining in with the revolt is in any case overshadowed by the self-serving arguments that follow. Does Aristagoras’ talk of ideal motives therefore represent little more than a decorous surface to help disguise a self-interested substance, while also hinting at how his Athenian listeners might portray their action to the wider world? Or is there any sense that they might have some persuasive value in themselves?” 73 Isaac (2004: 273), based on Herodotus’ ‘deceive’, takes this to imply other ‘fraudulent arguments’. Alliance Speeches 193 that it takes Aristagoras some time (5.97.2: ἐς ὅ ‘until/in the end’) to convince the Athenians, and this after a lot of promises, proves that the ethnic strand was neither primary nor adequate. We have already been informed that the Athenians were ashamed of the name ‘Ionian’ (1.143.3) and that, in Herodotus’ opinion, Cleisthenes’ motivation in renaming the Athenian tribes was contempt for the Ionians and his desire for Athenian exclusiveness among them (5.69.1). Still, the choice of Melanthius, “an extremely distinguished Athenian” (5.97.3), as the leader of the Athenian force sent to Asia implies that there was some value in these types of arguments.74 In any case, this does not deter the Athenians from withdrawing their support straight after the Persian victory at Ephesus, and rejecting all of Aristagoras’ subsequent requests for additional help (5.103.1). Is Aristagoras striking the right note with the Athenians? The flashback to Athens’ past, how it was freed from tyranny, successfully repelled Spartan attempts to reinstate tyranny, and became openly hostile to the Persians (5.96.2: ἐδέδοκτο ἐκ τοῦ φανεροῦ τοῖσι Πέρσῃσι πολεμίους εἶναι) by refusing their request to receive Hippias back as a tyrant (5.55–96), justifies Athens’ willingness to help Aristagoras on account of its own hatred for tyranny and its being threatened by Persia.75 A combination of high-minded and pragmatic motivation features here: while championing freedom, the Athenians might be keen to attack Persia first in order to protect themselves (or so might Aristagoras think). A joint enterprise could help the Athenians preserve their own interests and advertise themselves as liberators of their Ionian kinsmen. The narrative emphasizes the ideal timing of the visit of Aristagoras, who thus had every reason to address the Athenians and hope to get their help against the Persians (5.97.1).76 Aristagoras’ performance at Sparta at first seems very promising. Its eventual failure adds to the importance of deceit for a persuasive speech in a different way: when deceit stops, persuasion is hampered. Aristagoras manipulates his arguments carefully and even shows a map, but then he says the truth about the long journey to Persia, thereby undoing any chance of a successful speech. In sum he says: “Cleomenes, the Ionians, your kinsmen, are slaves and they

74 The name ‘Melanthius’ recalls Melanthus, the mythical father of Codrus whose descendants ruled Ionia (Hdt. 1.147.1; 5.65.3). Cf. Hornblower 1991: 507; 20114: 128–9; Zacharia 2003: 50. 75 See Hdt. 5.96.2: ὁ δὲ Ἀρταφρένης ἐκέλευέ σφεας, εἰ βουλοίατο σόοι εἶναι, καταδέκεσθαι ὀπίσω Ἱππίην. 76 νομίζουσι δὲ ταῦτα καὶ διαβεβλημένοισι ἐς τοὺς Πέρσας, ἐν τούτῳ δὴ τῷ καιρῷ ὁ Μιλήσιος Ἀρισταγόρης, . . . ἀπίκετο ἐς Ἀθήνας. 194 CHAPTER 3 should be free; this is shameful to us and to you, more than any other Greeks, because you are the leaders of Greece; it is easy to save the Ionians as your bravery in battle cannot be compared to the bad fighting performance of the Persians and their inferior equipment”. The noble arguments (Greekness and freedom) are quickly dismissed only to be replaced by slandering the enemy and, most importantly, by a long list of overemphasized material inducements. The greatest part of the speech describes in detail the geography, ethnography and wealth of Asia:

ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἀγαθὰ τοῖσι τὴν ἤπειρον ἐκείνην νεμομένοισι ὅσα οὐδὲ τοῖσι συνάπασι ἄλλοισι, ἀπὸ χρυσοῦ ἀρξαμένοισι, ἄργυρος καὶ χαλκὸς καὶ ἐσθὴς ποικίλη καὶ ὑποζύγιά τε καὶ ἀνδράποδα· τὰ θυμῷ βουλόμενοι αὐτοὶ ἂν ἔχοιτε. κατοίκηνται δὲ ἀλλήλων ἐχόμενοι ὡς ἐγὼ φράσω, . . . (Hdt. 5.49.4–5)

Moreover, the inhabitants of that continent are richer than all the rest of the world put together, gold first but also silver, bronze, elaborately embroidered clothes and beasts of burden and slaves. All this you may have if you wish. The lands in which they dwell lie next to each other, as I shall show you.

Aristagoras then goes on to enumerate Ionia, Lydia, Phrygia, Cappadocia, Cilicia, Cyprus, Armenia, the Matieni, Cissia and Susa, each country with its own riches. While speaking he points to the map he carries with him (5.49.1: γῆς ἁπάσης περίοδος; 5.49.5), a type of visual aid to reinforce his argument.77 Purves78 astutely observes that the effect of the map is strengthened by the combination of the splendid bronze surface on which the map is carved and Aristagoras’ focus on the affluence of Asia. The narrative undercuts most of Aristagoras’ statements at Sparta and exposes his rhetoric as misleading.79 Herodotus makes the freedom argument sound suspicious when, in introducing Aristogoras’ petition at Sparta, he describes him as ‘the tyrant of Miletus’ (5.49.1: ὁ Μιλήτου τύραννος), although

77 According to Purves (2010: 133), the use of the map at Sparta is calculated in yet another sense: “Given that Aristagoras brings the map from Ionia, the center of the mapmak- ing world, and given Sparta’s reputation for backwardness in technological matters, the expectation is that Cleomenes will not have seen one before”. 78 See Purves 2010: 135. 79 Lang (1968: 31) argues that Aristagoras’ speech to Cleomenes is “so much the stock Peitho-speech”. Alliance Speeches 195 we have been told earlier that he abdicated his tyranny (5.37.2). The word ἀρχή, used in the same sentence to indicate Cleomenes’ reign (5.49.1: Κλεομένεος ἔχοντος τὴν ἀρχήν), adds considerably to the negative meaning of the word τύραννος by juxtaposing a legal ruler with an usurper.80 All the more, the word ‘tyrant’ expressly draws the contrast between Aristagoras’ words and actions. Since he fooled the people into thinking that he abdicated his tyranny in order to manipulate them and gain their support for revolt it is only too predictable that his present appeals to freedom are empty. And, if we follow Steiner81 in linking writing and maps to tyrants, we could also suggest that Aristagoras’ map further exposes his eastern and tyrannical ways (which Cleomenes is seen to reject)—and consequently the emptiness of moral calls and his vested interests. Several passages show that the argument about the terrible fighting skills of the Persians and their inferior weapons and dress is invalid. In the account of the battle at Marathon, the Persians in their allegedly ‘effeminate dresses’ are said to frighten the Greeks even by their name, and the Athenians are recorded as the first Greeks “who dared to look without flinching at Median dress” (6.112.3).82 The Persians also fight exceptionally well at Plataea and Mycale (9.40, 62.3–63, 71.1, 102.2–3, 103.1). Moreover, in Aristagoras’ speech there is hardly any sign of real interest in or anxiety about the fate of the Ionians. Nor is there any sign of a

80 Cleomenes might not be an usurper but he appears to be a bit of a tyrant himself, an association invited by the phrase ‘tyrant of Miletus’ used for Aristagoras. That Aristagoras addresses Cleomenes alone and not the Ephors or the Gerousia, or indeed the other Spartan king as well (cf. above, p. 113), and that the whole scene is presented as a private conversation, invites us to see the matter more as a discussion between tyrants, all the more so since only tyrants work together with tyrants (see the Spartan speech 8.142.5). Note also that Cleomenes supported Isagoras’ attempt to establish a tyranny in Athens (5.70–4). Cf. Hornblower 2013: 162, 166–7. 81 See Steiner 1994: 147–8. 82 Cf. Pelling (2007: 194 n. 51): “Nor is a taste for elegant dress a sign of soft unmanliness: notice 1.135.1, where it is a matter of Persian pride that they wear this Median dress, finer than their own as it is, into battle”. Note also Branscome’s (2010: 13–14) subtler observation: “Just as Aristagoras glosses over important details (e.g., long bows, which Herodotus ascribes to the Persians in 7.61.1) about the type of military equipment that the (implied) Persians carry, he refrains from uttering the frightening name of the Medes. Aristagoras is trying his best not to scare Cleomenes off from invading Asia . . . He seeks to embolden Cleomenes to the task of contending with the forces of the Persian Empire by ridiculing barbarian equipment and by withholding the very name of the formidable Persians and Medes” (his italics). 196 CHAPTER 3

prospective Persian attack against the Greek mainland which could motivate the Spartans into action. Taking Susa will suffice for the Spartans to compete with Zeus himself for treasures (5.49.7: ἑλόντες δὲ ταύτην τὴν πόλιν θαρσέοντες ἤδη τῷ Διὶ πλούτου πέρι ἐρίζετε). Why, then, fight over a little piece of poor land with their equals, the Messenians, Arcadians and Argives, who have no gold or silver which is worth fighting and dying for, when they can effortlessly have the whole of Asia (5.49.8)? This forceful question, which rounds off the speech, touches on inter-Greek fighting and its pointless nature as there are many more assets abroad and the Spartans could become kings of Asia. But here Aristagoras confuses the Greco- Persian categories in many ways.83 We are familiar with the link between human character and climate: hard and poor countries like Greece breed hard and free men, whereas soft and rich countries like Asia breed effeminate and slavish people. How well does Aristagoras’ rhetoric, then, suit his Spartan audience, the Greeks most adverse to any kind of luxury who prided themselves on their bravery and devotion to freedom? And does his point about fighting to the death for valuable metals comply with the Greek nature when we know that the Greeks enter into contest for an olive branch (8.26)? Greed, extrava- gance and precious metals (especially gold) are part of the barbarian value system in the Histories.84 So is the comparison to gods which Aristagoras presses here—in book 7, Artabanus warns us about the dangers of divine envy.85 And, above all, do an ever-expanding philosophy and an overseas expedition sit well with the introverted, reluctant and not so adventurous Spartans? Spartan kings also linked themselves to gods, more specifically the demi-god Heracles, and this is an element they somehow share with the Persian tyrants. In the course of the narrative, Spartan leaders either flee to Persia (Demaratus) or demonstrate barbarian traits (Pausanias).86 Beyond individual cases, and especially during the reign of Cleomenes, Sparta itself appears less conserva- tive and pursues an energetic foreign policy.87 The preceding story of Dorieus

83 Cf. Pelling (2007: 187–94) for a discussion of how Herodotus plays with Greek/Spartan stereotypes in Aristagoras’ visit to Sparta. 84 Cf. the Marathon epigram: Simonides fge xxi. 85 On Aristagoras’ points about softness and rivalling the gods as reflecting important narrative threads, see Forsdyke 2002: 532. 86 On Pausanias, see below, pp. 271–5. 87 On the relative shift and openness in the Spartan external policy during the reign of Cleomenes (late sixth to early fifth century), see How and Wells 1912: 347–9; Griffiths 1989: 54; Hornblower 20114: 121, 216–18 (on the limits of Spartan xenophobia); Cartledge 20032: 82–90; de Ste. Croix 2004: 421–40; Baltrusch 2006: 176–88. Alliance Speeches 197

(5.42–8), Cleomenes’ brother, whom the Spartans provided with men and sent away with their blessings to a found a city, though it ended in failure, shows not only Spartan interest in colonization88 but also tyrannical aspirations.89 There was also the Spartan expedition against Polycrates (3.56), and an even earlier alliance between Sparta and Lydia (1.69)—but the first was abortive and the second delusive. Aristagoras could understandably expect Cleomenes to be quite keen. In view of all the previous unsuccessful overseas enterprises, however, Aristagoras even anticipates the reaction of a potentially hesitant Cleomenes when he underlines the nearness90 of the several people of the Persian empire, which would facilitate the expedition. The importance of the map in showing the contiguity of the different places is instrumental. In consideration of the notorious Spartan dislike of long sophisticated discourse, one might expect Aristagoras’ protracted speech to fall on deaf ears and the combined demonstration of a map to be taken as extravagant.91 But Cleomenes is not the typical Spartan and Aristagoras initially fares very well.92 The Spartan king is tempted and asks for two days to think it over. On the third day, he asks Aristagoras how long the journey from the Ionian coast to Susa is. When the Milesian replies that it would take three months, the Spartan king

88 On Spartan colonization and the use of myth in this context, see Malkin 1994 (esp. on Dorieus, see pp. 192–218). 89 See Munson 2006: 261–2. Baragwanath (2008: 165–7) highlights the importance of the Dorieus episode, in interaction with the Theras episode (4.147–65), for revealing less noble Spartan motivation and thus anticipating comparable motivation involved in the Ionian revolt (note p. 166: “The tales of Dorieus and Theras foreground the twin desires for personal power and beautiful land as motivating forces potent enough to determine Spartan action”). On the close association of the Dorieus episode with the Ionian revolt and the wider narrative of the Histories, see briefly Hornblower 2004: 306 n. 55 and in detail 2007a. 90 Note the repeated use of the verb ἔχομαι ‘to be close to/ to border on’ (5.49.5–7: five times and once implied at 5.49.6: Ἀρμενίων δὲ Ματιηνοί) and the word πρόσουροι ‘bordering on/ neighbour’ (5.49.6). On the pointed usage and multiple meanings of both ἔχω and ἔχομαι in Aristagoras’ speech, see Pelling 2007: 189. 91 On the laconic nature of the Spartans, see above, pp. 64–77. But cf. Branscome (2010: 30): “He [i.e. Aristagoras] believed a physical, concrete object such as the map would be more compelling than mere words to a notoriously “laconic” citizen of Sparta like Cleomenes”. In his despair, Aristagoras is using here both verbal and visual means to cover as wide a range of ethnic and individual characteristics as possible. 92 On Aristagoras’ accurate reading of his Spartan audience, see in more detail Pelling 2007: 187–94. 198 CHAPTER 3 dismisses him, refusing any help (5.50).93 How and Wells94 consider this refusal a crucial point in the foreign policy of Cleomenes, who had strong reasons for his decision. On the one hand, Sparta was unwilling to undertake distant expeditions as there were past failures in overseas ventures. On the other, Sparta’s position at that moment committed it to a policy of inactivity at the prospect of imminent conflicts in the Peloponnese, and especially with Argos, and of an impending revolt of the helots. Aristagoras seems either to underestimate or to try to play down the gravity of the conflicts between Sparta and its neighbours. These were not instigated by wealth but by the preservation of Spartan independence and the dominance of the Peloponnese instead. Herodotus’ commentary is expressive and revealing: “till now, Aristagoras had been cunning and fooled the Spartans right well; but here he made a false step (τἆλλα ἐὼν σοφὸς95 καὶ διαβάλλων ἐκεῖνον εὖ, ἕν τούτῳ ἐσφάλη). If he wanted to induce the Spartans to invade Asia, he never ought to have told the truth (τὸ ἐόν); but he did and said the journey took three months” (5.50.2). Aristagoras is successful so long as he uses treacherous oratory (διαβολή) and a visual representation of the world. The very moment he decides to speak the truth, his otherwise excellent performance goes astray and he loses his audience.96 The map eventually sabotages the speech97 because, when Aristagoras is asked to

93 Pelling (2007: 190) observes the slightly peculiar note in Cleomenes’ reply: “And even then Cleomenes does not get the Spartan line quite as one would expect. ‘This is not a good thing to put to Spartans, wanting to lead them three months’ journey away from the sea,’ 50.3. What we might have expected—what for instance Nenci (1994), 228 glosses him as saying—is away from the Peloponnese. These Spartans are more seagoing types than we might expect, or at least than we would expect from the land-hogging Spartan stereotype in Thucydides; just as Cleomenes is more interested and attracted by all this wealth and enterprise than we would expect”. 94 See How and Wells 1912: 350–1. 95 Given the semantic ambiguity of the word σοφὸς, Branscome (2010: 36) concludes that “[b]y calling Aristagoras sophos, then, Herodotus does not necessarily imply that he approves of Aristagoras’ actions in 5.49–51”. 96 Aristagoras is evidently a trickster, very much like other Herodotean individuals who manipulate and cheat their audiences, such as Darius and Themistocles, both of whom perform well when working backstage and consciously avoid open debate (see above, pp. 148–9 [Darius] and 138–46 [Themistocles]). Cf. also Dewald 1985: 54. On scheming behaviour and individuals in Herodotus generally, see esp. Camerer 1965; Dewald 1993; Bencsik 1994. 97 It is highly unlikely that Aristagoras uses the map in Athens (pace Munson 2001: 209), because there is no relevant mention in the text (cf. Pelling 2007: 184; Branscome 2010: 25). Since the map has tripped him up, Aristagoras would be very unwise to use it again. On the other hand, the map might have been unnecessary simply because Athens’ external Alliance Speeches 199 interpret it, it becomes plain that the map is only intended to conceal the real distance between the Ionian coast and Susa.98 Aristagoras does not consider this failure a major hindrance and, playing on Cleomenes’ materialism, attempts to bribe him (5.51.2). Bribery is a recurring motif with Cleomenes. In an earlier episode, another Ionian, the Samian Maeandrius, tries to get Cleomenes’ help by buying him off with gold and silver drinking cups. But the Spartan king, acting as “the most just of men” (δικαιότατος ἀνδρῶν) refuses to accept the offer and asks the magistrates to dismiss Maeandrius from Sparta in order to ensure that he does not bribe another Spartan (3.148). Intratextual parallels may lead us to anticipate a similar attitude in the Aristagoras episode, but this time it is Cleomenes’ little daughter Gorgo who intervenes decisively and averts her father from being bribed. Aristagoras keeps increasing the amount of money he is willing to offer and Cleomenes, obviously lured, walks away only after Gorgo’s forceful one-liner: πάτερ, διαφθερέει σε ὁ ξεῖνος, ἢν μὴ ἀποστὰς ἴῃς “father, the stranger will corrupt you, if you do not get up and leave” (5.51.2–3). The dismissal of Aristagoras shows Cleomenes and the Spartans true to their Greek/Spartan nature. Their motivation, however, becomes significantly blurred. Rather than praising Cleomenes’ incorruptible nature, the episode indicates that had it not been for Gorgo Aristagoras would most likely have had his way. Manipulation of real facts, trickery, expediency: these are the qualities Aristagoras contributes when trying to set up an alliance, and private gain is also what his audiences are principally focused on. Aristagoras’ self-centred

policy is far more energetic and restless than Sparta’s, and also, as discussed earlier, Athens was already openly at war with Persia. Another reason may be the impracticality of the use of the map in front of as large an audience as the Athenian assembly (see Pelling 2007: 184; Branscome 2010: 30 and n. 86). Branscome (2010: 30 n. 86) adds the affinities between maps and the sophists which could attract a potentially negative Athenian response, and the different ethnic characteristics of Sparta and Athens, viz. land- vs. sea-power: “Indeed, there may be a further, cultural factor at work in Aristagoras’ decision to bring a map to Sparta, but not to Athens. Perhaps the landlubberly Spartans would have been more impressed by the map than the maritime Athenians, who would presumably have had a greater familiarity with Ionian-style maps”. 98 On the opposite effect of Aristagoras’ map, see also Murnaghan 2001: 69–70. Dewald (1993: 64, 58 and n. 7; cf. 1985: 54) notes that Cleomenes is a good reader of objects who sees through the trick and asks the critical question (’how long will that take?’). However, the comment about the folly of telling the truth (5.50.2) suggests that Cleomenes has not in fact penetrated the false claim of ‘ease’ and that all that rejection follows on the revela- tion. According to Hartog (1988: 361–2), Aristagoras ‘is taken by surprise’ by the ‘unexpected question’ and therefore tells Cleomenes the truth. 200 CHAPTER 3 motives, as well as the motives of Histiaeus, the other instigator of the Ionian revolt, partly explain the failure of the revolt and largely look forward to the conflicting interests of the Greeks during the Persian Wars. Aristagoras’ alliances, based on falsehood and designed to sustain a weak cause (Herodotus has indicated from the start that the Ionian revolt is badly planned), set forth patterns for the flawed alliance of the Greeks against the Persians. Baragwanath succinctly captures the essence: “in the later defence Greek communities have generally appropriated the self-serving role that in the Ionian narrative was more a prerogative of individuals. In Herodotus’ conception, states do by and large appear to be motivated similarly to individuals”.99 Another strand of Aristagoras’ rhetoric works towards somewhat bridging the differences between self and other as the same arguments appeal to both Greeks and Persians (Artaphrenes and, indirectly, Darius).100 It has been further noted that Aristagoras’ detailed description of the opulence of the places to be conquered in the campaign conforms to a widespread Near Eastern story pattern.101 Munson lists two examples from the Histories (Atossa’s words to Darius in 3.134.5 and Mardonius’ to Xerxes in 7.5.3) which demonstrate that “[t]he advertisement of assets is in Herodotus especially a feature of the discourse of Persian conquest of Greece, the paradigm for conquest tout court”.102 It is appealing to think in terms of Herodotus’ interaction with Eastern literary and oral traditions. Herodotus might here be appropriating models of barbarian discourse. Their use by Aristagoras seems quite fitting because it is not unlikely that he, being an Ionian Greek, was acquainted with relevant rhetorical or storytelling patterns. A different line of argument has been pursued by Flower,103 who proposes that Aristagoras’ appeals to Athens and Sparta express panhellenic sentiments current at the time of Herodotus. That is, they encourage a Greek attack against Asia which, however, Herodotus evidently disapproves of. Both interpretative strands are equally valid. Intratextual links contribute to creating a unique system of scheming Aristogorean rhetoric. But there is also a wider intratextual canvas in operation that adds depth to the treatment of Aristagoras. Before we move to the next case study, I should like to discuss briefly Aristagoras in conjunction with

99 See Baragwanath 2008: 165. 100 Cf. Pelling (2007: 180): “So Persians can be pressed to westward desires, Greeks to east- ward: Aristagoras, rhetorically adept as he is, can obviously argue this either way, and make either argument as attractive as the other”. 101 See Flower 2000: 71, with relevant bibliography. 102 See Munson 2007: 158 n. 54 (her italics). 103 See Flower 2000: 70–6. Alliance Speeches 201 two speakers that urge people to war in the work, Miltiades and Mardonius, as well as with another individual that asks for alliance, Hegesistratus. The passage under scrutiny concerning Miltiades is 6.132. Miltiades has ensured the εὔνοια of his audience through his ethos, as he has acquired a greater reputation in Athens after their victory at Marathon (καὶ πρότερον εὐδοκιμέων παρὰ Ἀθηναίοισι, τότε μᾶλλον αὔξετο). With this weapon, he persuades the Athenians to give him ships, army and money for an expedition “without even telling the Athenians the object of the expedition he had in mind, but merely saying he would make them rich (καταπλουτιεῖν) if they followed him; for he would bring them to a country where they should easily (εὐπετέως) carry away abundance of gold (χρυσὸν ἄφθονον)”. The ease of the expedition and the profit the Athenians will get out of it clearly recall Aristagoras’ arguments. But there is more to it than that. The Athenians get excited (6.132: ἐπαρθέντες) and provide him with what he asks for, just as Artaphrenes gives Aristagoras double the ships he requests. When Miltiades sails for Paros, he uses the fact that the Parians had sent a trireme to Marathon with the Persian fleet as a pretext (6.133.1: πρόφασιν, πρόσχημα) for the attack. Herodotus intervenes to pin down self-interest as the real reason: “he was angry with the Parians because Lysagoras, the son of Teisias, a Parian by birth, had slandered him to Hydarnes the Persian” (6.133.1). As in the case of Aristagoras, a personal quarrel is involved and the Persians are once again worked into the narrative. Why Miltiades would care about his reputation with the Persians remains unanswered in the text, but, as with other ambitious individuals, we are invited to suspect lust for power—in particular on account of his former position as tyrant of the Chersonese under the Persians. When the enterprise fails and Miltiades returns without any money and without having subjected Paros (6.135.1), Xanthippus, the son of Ariphron, brings Miltiades “before the people to be tried for his life on the charge of defrauding the public (Ἀθηναίων ἀπάτης εἵνεκεν)” (6.136.1). Deceit features as the distinctive attribute of Miltiades’ speech in the same way it features in the context of Aristagoras’ speeches.104 A matching pattern is replicated by Mardonius, Aristagoras’ Persian counterpart, especially in the Persian debate in book 7. A comparison between Mardonius and Aristagoras provides significant insight into the Greek- barbarian division. In urging Xerxes initially to undertake and then not to abandon altogether the expedition against Greece, Mardonius employs many arguments recommended in the Rhetoric to Alexander 1425a9–28 when one

104 See Hdt. 5.50.2: διαβάλλων; 5.97.1: διαβεβλημένοισι; 5.97.2: διαβάλλειν (twice). 202 CHAPTER 3 wants to make war:105 self-interest of the addressee (7.5.2–3, 9.2: expansionism, glory, wealth and fertility of Europe), revenge on the wrongdoers (7.5.2, 9.1–2; 8.100.3), and the belittling of the enemy’s resources and power (7.9α.1, 9β.1–γ). The arguments are akin to those of alliance speeches, but what brings Mardonius’ argumentation closer to Aristagoras’ is, interestingly, a kind of shared ‘rhetoric of deception’. Narrative commentary clearly shows that Mardonius is as much an opportunist and deceiver as Aristagoras: “Mardonius’ motive for urging the campaign was love of mischief and adventure and the hope of becoming governor of Greece himself” (7.6.1).106 Narrative comments undercut his arguments. Take the description of Europe as a beautiful place, and as such a worthy acquisition for the king. Elsewhere in the Histories Persian opulence is markedly contrasted with European poverty,107 which shows Mardonius as manipulating reality and lying. The argument from Mardonius’ personal experience, when he claims that he faced no Greek opposition in the Marathon campaign and that the Greeks are bad fighters (7.9α), is disingenuous because his expedition was in fact a fiasco. That he is lying again about the Greek war affairs and underestimates the Greeks’ military skill is evident from the Greek victories at Marathon, Artemisium, Salamis and, finally, Plataea, where Mardonius is defeated and killed. The exposure of Mardonius’ treacherous rhetoric comes this time not from Herodotus, as in the case of Aristagoras (5.50.2, 97.1–2), but from Artabanus, who accuses Mardonius of slander (διαβολή) (7.10η.1–2).108 The similar representation of deceit in Greece and Persia is another aspect which brings these two different worlds closer. The case of Hegesistratus provides a less straightforward but no less interesting parallel. Before the battle of Mycale, while the Greek fleet is stationed at Delos, a Samian embassy comes to ask for assistance in another Ionian revolt from the Persians (9.90.1). Hegesistratus, one of the messengers, tries hard to convince the Greek generals (9.90.2–3) by bringing up arguments that not only conform to the typical Herodotean alliance motifs but also closely mirror the arguments of Aristagoras, in particular those at Sparta and Athens: material

105 He also employs hortatory themes, on which see below, p. 256. 106 ταῦτα δὲ ἔλεγε οἷα νεωτέρων ἔργων ἐπιθυμητὴς ἐὼν καὶ θέλων αὐτὸς τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὕπαρχος εἶναι. 107 Cf. the episode with the Spartan and Persian dinners prepared under Pausanias’ orders at 9.82. 108 The word ‘slander’ (see above, p. 192 n. 71) is also reserved for Histiaeus, who deceives Darius (5.107), and Themistocles, when he addresses the Athenians (8.110). In all these cases, including Aristagoras’, the word comes directly after the speeches as an authorial comment (in Mardonius’ case, Artabanus takes on the role of Herodotus which may corroborate further the idea of Artabanus as the author’s alter ego). Alliance Speeches 203 benefit for the Greeks, ease of the deed due to barbarian inferiority in terms of both ships and fighting skill, common gods and ancestry, and freedom vs. slavery. Further analogies link the speeches of Aristagoras and Hegesistratus. Hegesistratus’ claims about the ease of the enterprise are, like Aristagoras’, sub- verted in the course of the narrative (9.102.2, 103.1: the Persians fight bravely and cause the Greeks many casualties).109 And that Hegesistratus resorts to many and all kinds of arguments (9.90.2: πολλὰ καὶ παντοῖα) neatly reflects Aristagoras promising the Athenians anything he could think of (5.97.2). The circumstances are similar as in both cases the liberation of the Ionians is at stake. Notably, also, in both cases the speech of an Ionian (Aristagoras and Hegesistratus) is cut short by a Spartan addressee (Cleomenes [5.50.3] and Leotychides respectively [9.91.2]). These analogies might even explain why Hegesistratus is only given indirect discourse, since his arguments are already familiar from Aristagoras’ long direct speech in Sparta. Aristagoras is indeed very fresh in readers’ minds, because at 9.90.1 Herodotus mentions that Hegesistratus’ father was also named Aristagoras.110 Herodotus thus sketches the outline of political propaganda and reinforces the picture of dishonest rhetoric, remarkably adaptable to the circumstances and employed to serve narrow personal interests.

3.3.2 The Embassy to Gelon: Turning a Request for Alliance into a Fight for Leadership In need of allies in their imminent fight against the Persians, the Greeks send envoys to Sicily to ask for the aid of Gelon, the tyrant of Syracuse. After an initial collective appeal, Gelon appears willing to support them on the condition that he will be the leader of the Greeks against the barbarians. The Spartans reject the request; his help is welcome only if he submits to their leadership. Gelon could still settle for the command of either the army or the navy, but now the Athenians claim the navy for themselves. Faced with such an arrogant attitude, Gelon denies them any help (7.157–62). The alliance speeches of the Spartans and the Athenians to Gelon are examples of the speaker’s uncompromising insistence which leads to ineffectiveness. The scene is intentionally prolonged and elaborated on to shed light on the constant strife for command among the Greeks in the Persian Wars, while at the same time proleptically projecting it on to the period after the Persian Wars and up to the time of Herodotus. Historical precedents prove the Greek talk about unity superficial. This falls through utterly when mythological paradigms

109 On the resemblance between Aristagoras’ and Hegesistratus’ speeches, see briefly Macan 1908b: 782; Flower and Marincola 2002: 263–4. 110 On the contested identity of Hegesistratus’ father, see Pelling 2007: 182 n. 12. 204 CHAPTER 3 are put to use to defend the excellence of the Spartans and Athenians. The arguments of the Spartans and Athenians are carefully manipulated so as not to reveal naked self-interest, and subtler claims to domination are overlaid with claims of noble motivation. By unveiling the weakness of these arguments in his narrative, Herodotus comments on the manipulative and ill- applied rhetoric.111 The Greek messengers do a very good job in stressing the exigency of the circumstances and the fact that Greece, and not merely Athens, is the real target of the Persian assault.112 They ask Gelon, since he is both Greek and in a position of power, to aid those who are fighting for the freedom of Greece and join their cause (7.157.2: βοήθει τε τοῖσι ἐλευθεροῦσι τὴν Ἑλλάδα καὶ συνελευθέρου). If the whole of Greece is united, it forms a powerful body of fighting men and a worthy opponent (7.157.2). But if some betray the cause, others refuse their help, and there is only a small part of Greece fighting, then there is a danger that the whole of Greece might be conquered. And if the Greek mainland falls into the enemy’s hands, Gelon should reckon the Persians will attack him soon after; so his help will also be a pre-emptive, well-planned action (7.157.3). At every turn of this well-calculated speech we find what we might call ‘panhellenic’ language. The Greek envoys insist on the unity required in such circumstances, the mutual danger, Gelon’s shared Greekness, and the common fight for the liberty of Greece. The repetition of the word ‘Greece’ eight times lends extra emphasis. This panhellenic character is evidently missing from Aristagoras’ speeches, and is here emphasized more strongly than in other speeches in the Histories. Comparable emphasis on the need for unity on the eve of a fight is only found in the speech of Xerxes before the start of the expedition against Greece at 7.53, which is discussed in detail in the next chapter. Gelon’s reply promptly undermines the Greek lecture on unity. Gelon calls the words of the Greeks arrogant (7.158.1: λόγον . . . πλεονέκτην) and points out that they have set a precedent in egocentrism. The Greeks are forgetful: how do they dare now come begging for Gelon’s help when they denied him theirs in the past when he needed support against the Carthaginians? They did not give him a hand when he was dealing with his own barbarians, although such an operation would have been beneficial for the Greeks too: Gelon would help to free the trading posts which have been the source of much profit and

111 For a summarized discussion of the use of mythology in Greek diplomatic argument in an effort to build an alliance (at the start of the Greek fight and before Plataea), see Bowie 2012: 279–84. 112 See 7.157.1: πρόσχημα μὲν ποιεύμενος ὡς ἐπ᾽ Ἀθήνας ἐλαύνει, ἐν νόῳ δὲ ἔχων πᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα ὑπ᾽ ἑωυτῷ ποιήσασθαι. Alliance Speeches 205 advantage to the Greeks, and especially the Spartans would have the chance to avenge the murder of Dorieus by the Egestans (7.158.2).113 Regardless of the questionable historicity of the war against Carthage114 and the dubious claim about Dorieus,115 Gelon’s argument sheds light on the selfish motivation of the Greeks, which is made even more explicit in his saying “now, because the war has come down upon you, you remember Gelon” (7.158.3).116 Nevertheless, Gelon will not reciprocate the contempt of the Greeks117 and is willing to contribute a considerable number of men and food supplies. But when he asks for the supreme command of the Greeks against the barbarians in return, the Spartans step up and Syagrus gives the following response:

ἦ κε μέγ᾽ οἰμώξειε ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων πυθόμενος Σπαρτιήτας τὴν ἡγεμονίην ἀπαραιρῆσθαι ὑπὸ Γέλωνός τε καὶ Συρηκοσίων. ἀλλὰ τούτου μὲν τοῦ λόγου μηκέτι μνησθῇς, ὅκως τὴν ἡγεμονίην τοι παραδώσομεν. ἀλλ᾽ εἰ μὲν βούλεαι βοηθέειν τῇ Ἑλλάδι, ἴσθι ἀρξόμενος ὑπὸ Λακεδαιμονίων· εἰ δ᾽ ἄρα μὴ δικαιοῖς ἄρχεσθαι, σὺ δὲ μηδὲ βοηθέειν. (7.159)

Agamemnon, son of Pelops, would groan aloud in his grave if he heard that Sparta had been robbed of her command by Gelon and his Syracusans! Let us hear no more of our giving you command. If you wish to help Greece, you must understand that it will be under Spartan leadership. If you dislike the idea of a subordinate position, then you need not help.

113 See Hornblower 2007a: 172–3 on Cleomenes not avenging the death of his brother and a “serious and humiliating Spartan defeat in Sicily”. 114 The war against the Carthaginians is neither mentioned in the immediately preceding digression about how Gelon became a tyrant (7.153–6) nor in the history of Dorieus (5.42–6). For How and Wells (1912: 196) the omission is due to the story coming from an independent source (cf. also Macan 1908a: 221). One could, of course, counter-argue that postponing information for the most effective point is a fundamental feature of Herodotean narrative technique. Nevertheless, there is no historical record of such a war either and, since Gelon was busy with other wars, there was no time for another Punic War between the accession of Gelon and the great invasion of Sicily in 480 b.c. Maybe what we have here is a Punic War under Hippocrates, which is transferred to Gelon, who may have taken an active part in it (Macan 1908a: 220–1). 115 One may argue that Gelon could not make such a claim about Dorieus, for the narrative reports that he was rightfully punished as he transgressed the instructions of the oracle (5.45.1) (pace Macan 1908a: 221). Still, that Dorieus is represented by the narrative as bringing on his own death need not affect Gelon’s view of the matter. 116 νῦν δὲ ἐπειδὴ περιελήλυθε ὁ πόλεμος καὶ ἀπῖκται ἐς ὑμέας, οὕτω δὴ Γέλωνος μνῆστις γέγονε. 117 Cf. Xerxes’ statement that he will not imitate the Spartans’ insulting treatment of the Persian messengers (7.136.2) and Pausanias’ words that some actions are more appropriate to barbarians than Greeks (9.79.1). 206 CHAPTER 3

The key in this argument is Agamemnon and his importance for Sparta. His use here establishes both Spartan dominion and dedication to the common Greek cause. Syagrus obviously regards Agamemnon as a Spartan, which reflects the Spartan propagandistic policy already in place in the sixth century. Historically the Spartans sought systematically to connect themselves to the Achaean Agamemnon—the leader of the alliance of the Greeks in the Trojan War—in an attempt to justify Sparta’s dominant position not only in the Peloponnese but also in the whole of Greece. Agamemnon was considered king of Sparta,118 while his son Orestes was presented as a Laconian.119 An integral part of this policy was the transfer of Orestes’ bones from Tegea to Sparta, around 560 b.c.120 The transfer, portrayed as the ‘return’ of the bones of a former Spartan king to their rightful place, helped Sparta befriend the non- Dorians of the Peloponnese (by emphasizing the Spartans’ ‘Achaean’ status) and corroborate its rule in the form of an alliance of most Peloponnesian cities under Sparta.121 Herodotus narrates the event at length, concluding that, after the transfer was complete, the Spartans always won their fights against the Tegeans and, by the time Croesus was looking for the best Greeks to ally with, they controlled the greatest part of the Peloponnese (1.66–8).122 The bonds with the Achaeans, and therefore the right to the hegemony of the Peloponnese, were also pursued via the association with Heracles through the Heraclids. The Spartans, and particularly the Spartan royal

118 His tomb was thought to be located at Spartan Amyclae, where there was also a cult of him and Cassandra. The cult is dated by most scholars to the sixth century b.c. (see e.g. Hall 1997: 92; 2007: 334; Cartledge 1979: 112, 139; Antonaccio 1993: 54, 57). Pace Boedeker (1993: 166) and Osborne (1996: 289) who date it around 700 b.c. 119 See Stesichorus fr. 39 pmg; Pindar Pyth. 11.16, 31–2; Nem. 11.34; 8.12. There might even be some evidence of this tradition in Homer, when in Od. 4.514–20 Agamemnon is described as sailing around Cape Malea in the southern Peloponnese on his way home from Troy (cf. also Il. 9.149–53). On these allusions in Homer, see Boedeker 1993: 167; Hall 2007: 335; Malkin 1994: 31. 120 On this kind of Spartan propaganda, see Forrest 1968: 74–6; Cartledge 1979: 138–9; Alty 1982: 13; Hooker 1989: 129–31; Murray 19932: 263; Parker 1998: 4–6. Note that the Spartans also transferred the bones of Orestes’ son Teisamenus, who died in a battle against the Ionians and was buried at Helice in Achaea, to their city (Pausanias 7.1.8). 121 On the significance of Orestes’ bones for Sparta, see Dickins 1912: 21–4; Murray 19932: 263; Boedeker 1993 (a reading based on the link between the cultic and the political aspect); Hall 2007: 333–8; Malkin 1994: 26–9. 122 Cf. other Herodotean stories of heroes’ transfer for political or military purposes: the transfer of Melanippus (Adrastus’ most bitter enemy) from Thebes to Sicyon by Cleisthenes of Sicyon to replace the Argive hero Adrastus (5.67); after the Thebans’ request, Aegina sends the Aeacids to Thebes to help them take revenge on Athens (5.79–80). Alliance Speeches 207

families, were considered to be descendants of the Heraclids. Such a connection could further justify a philachaean policy in the sixth century and it did not mean the abandonment of the Dorian past. The Heraclids and the Dorians were closely connected123 and Sparta was the leading Dorian city entitled by right to the hegemony of the Peloponnese via Achaean links. Both agendas astutely served the same cause and were played up or down according to the circumstances. That Herodotus is aware of the propagandistic policy may be inferred from 5.72.3, where the priestess of Athena’s temple on the Acropolis forbids entrance to the Spartan king Cleomenes, for “No Dorian is permitted to come in”, and Cleomenes replies “I am not a Dorian but an Achaean”.124 Agamemnon, then, calls to mind this diplomatic background and the reference to him is profoundly politically laden. Similarly well considered is the selection of the adjective Πελοπίδης, ‘son of Pelops’, to refer to him.125 The word alludes to Spartan rule over the Peloponnese,126 the ‘island’ that took its name from Pelops. Long before the time of the Persian Wars, we are told by Herodotus, Sparta had most of the Peloponnese under its control (1.68.6). However, on the eve of the Persian Wars, Agamemnon is still a suitable mythological example, precisely because his influence goes beyond the Peloponnese. The Spartan Agamemnon, the lord of the Peloponnese, was the leader of the Greeks against the Trojans, thus serving as a precedent for Spartan leadership over the whole of Greece against the Persians. Sparta has received the leadership from the mythical king Agamemnon and therefore there is no question of taking away what traditionally belongs to Sparta. Given all this, the Spartans make it clear to Gelon that his only option is yielding to their command. Syagrus’ reply seems to be exaggerated, aggressive, arrogant and self-centred. But we can also read a milder and rather diplomatic strategy in the use of Agamemnon. Agamemnon was the leader of the Greek alliance in Homer; the Greeks offered their help willingly and were not forced in any way; the Trojan War was a collective and successful enterprise. Like a second Agamemnon,

123 The close connection between Dorians and Heraclids appears as early as the seventh century in Tyrtaeus 2.13–15 w (“Zeus gave this city to the Heraclids together with whom we [i.e. the Dorians] leaving windy Erineos, came to the broad island of Pelops”); cf. Tyrtaeus 11.1 w (“you [i.e. Spartans] are the descendants of undefeated Heracles”). Cf. also Thuc. 1.12.3. On the association of the Spartan kings with the Heraclids, see Hall 1997: 59–60; Malkin 1994: 42–3. 124 Also a word-play on his brother’s name (Δωριεύς = Dorieus/Dorian), for which see already Macan 1895: 217. For a comprehensive discussion of this incident, see Parker 1998. 125 Pace Griffiths (1976: 23): Πελοπίδης “has nothing to contribute to the point that Syagrus is making”. 126 Cf. Hornblower 1994a: 66. 208 CHAPTER 3

Sparta claims the leadership of a coalition of Greek states willing to contribute to a common cause, another war against the barbarians of Asia, this time the Persians. Sparta thus assumes the role of the leader of a panhellenic enterprise, a role which, according to Herodotus, was keenly and unanimously assigned to it by all the Greek allies (8.2.2–3.1). And, if history indeed repeats itself, Sparta’s leadership may result in another panhellenic triumph.127 Moreover, in the speech of Syagrus, the salvation of Greece is inextricably related to Sparta (7.159: “If you wish to help Greece, you must understand that it will be under Spartan leadership”). Along these lines, the use of Πελοπίδης may add further panhellenic colouring as Pelops was also associated with the establishment of the panhellenic Olympic Games.128 But diplomacy may equally point in another direction. By invoking the dead Spartan king Agamemnon, Syagrus presents Spartan rule as an obligation to that king or as a way of paying tribute to him. In light of passages 8.2.2–3.1, handing over the command to Gelon could further be interpreted as a betrayal of the Greeks, who entrusted the direction of the expedition to the Spartans. Agamemnon thus sheds light on the complex network of Spartan motivation: a mixture of both particular Spartan and idealistic panhellenic incentives. The context of the embassy scene illuminates the ambiguity of Spartan motivation even more. On the one hand, Herodotus intends to attract our attention to the panhellenic resonances of Syagrus’ words through the use of panhellenic vocabulary in the joint speech of the Greek messengers which opens the episode, as discussed earlier. Above all, when the Greek envoys declare that they were sent by the Spartans and their allies (7.157.1), it becomes quite clear that the fate of Greece is primarily the concern, or even duty, of the Spartans. Homeric intertextuality and close interaction with the context of the scene make the paradigm of Agamemnon a conscious rhetorical choice which highlights both ideal and self-interested motivation for the Spartans. Syagrus’ phrase ἦ κε μέγ’ οἰμώξειε ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων specifically resonates with Nestor’s

127 On the connection between Agamemnon and panhellenism, see Malkin 1994: 27–33. 128 Also noted by Grethlein 2006: 494 n. 23. The founding of the Olympic Games was primarily attributed either to Pelops (e.g. Pind. Ol. 1.89–96) or to Heracles (e.g. Pind. Ol. 10.24–77). For traditions about other founders, see Burkert 1983: 95 n. 7. If one presses the potential allusion to the Olympic Games further, then the panhellenic colour might start fading slightly: the games, albeit promoting panhellenic spirit, were still a contest between cities which competed against each other; the same spirit of competition is felt throughout the embassy scene in Herodotus, and Syagrus’ use of Πελοπίδης could perhaps be taken as a further indication of agonistic feeling. This might seem a bit far-fetched but is worth contemplating and is further suggestive of ambiguous uses of rhetoric as well as of ambiguity of motivation. Alliance Speeches 209 words in Iliad 7.125 ἦ κε μέγ’ οἰμώξειε γέρων ἱππηλάτα Πηλεύς,129 which brings the ambiguity of motivation to the fore even more expressly. The Homeric language vividly recalls the Homeric background and Agamemnon’s role in the Iliad, while also establishing a sharper analogy between the embassy scene and the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles.130 In Homer, Agamemnon is portrayed as an inadequate rather than an ideal commander, whose arrogance offended Achilles and caused a grave feud. Not only does he err and act on impulse, as he himself often acknowledges,131 but even his incentive in attacking Troy is not wholly noble. Homer mentions reclaiming both Helen and her wealth,132 and in his version of the Helen story Herodotus reports that the Greeks, as soon they arrived at Troy, sent an embassy to demand Helen and the treasure which Paris had stolen (2.118.3).133 These associations underpin an ambiguous reading of Agamemnon’s motivation, call the use of the mythological paradigm into question and blur Spartan motivation.134 As the Athenians join the discussion, the setting of the embassy scene encourages a pragmatic reading of Sparta’s and also Athens’ motivation. The negotiations with Gelon turn into a fight for leadership between Gelon and the Spartans and Athenians, and between the Spartans and Athenians themselves.

129 See How and Wells 1912: 197; Pelling 2006b: 90; Grethlein 2010: 162; 2006: 489–90. See also Hornblower (1994a: 66), who additionally finds in the phrase an almost perfect Homeric hexameter which could be restored by replacing Πελοπίδης with Τανταλίδης; Griffiths 1976 also argues for a hexameter but suggests Πλεισθενίδης instead. Cf. Boedeker (2002: 101), who suggests that this might neither be Homeric nor refer to a specific Homeric passage, but could perhaps be a ‘rhetorical commonplace’. 130 Grethlein (2006: 488–96; 2010: 161–6) draws more similarities between the Herodotean and Homeric contexts of the utterance, including a discussion of how Syagrus’ imitation of Nestor both buttresses and undermines his argument. Cf. Boedeker (2002: 101), who suggests that this might neither be Homeric nor refer to a specific Homeric passage, but could perhaps be a ‘rhetorical commonplace’. 131 E.g. praised at Il. 2.482–3; apology at Il. 19.137–8; blaming the gods at Il. 19.86–90; disre- spectful at Il. 1.24–32. On Agamemnon’s depiction in the Iliad, see Taplin 1990. 132 E.g. Il. 3.70; 7.350. 133 See Neville 1977: 5 and n. 13. 134 Even if, later, Xenophon’s Socrates (Xen. Mem. 3.2) and Isocrates (12.72–89) found in Agamemnon an excellent example of leadership, these positive representations should be seen as rhetorical usages to achieve certain authorial purposes—to promote Xenophon’s theory of leadership (see Gray 2011: 124–6) and Isocrates’ idea that Greece must unite in an expedition against Persia (see Norlin 1929: 418–19)—and do not in effect subvert Homer’s unflattering picture of Agamemnon. For a discussion of Herodotus’ deployment of the mythological exemplum of Agamemnon in accordance with his historical outlook and historiographical purposes, and in comparison with Thucydides’ deployment of Agamemnon, see Zali 2011. 210 CHAPTER 3

Despite the negative and insulting Spartan rejoinder,135 Gelon politely counter- suggests he could assume command of either the army or the navy. Thereupon the Athenians intervene, before Syagrus gets the chance to respond, and demand the rule of the fleet, if the Spartans wish to give it to someone else (7.161). They begin their long speech by ironically declaring that Greece does not need a leader but an army.136 Apart from them having the largest fleet in Greece, the Athenians bring up the past of the Trojan War and the fact that they are the oldest Greek nation and the only ones to have always lived in the same land (7.161.3).137 The Athenians claim autochthony as a uniquely Athenian privilege which distinguishes them from all the other Greeks. Their statement—albeit incor- rect because other Greeks were also aboriginal—138confirms at least in this case139 the precedence of the Athenians over both the Dorian Spartans and the Syracusans, who were colonists of the Corinthians.140 Athenian autochthony stands next to the Achaean origin propagated by the Spartans. How relative this mythical argument is becomes apparent in book 1 where Herodotus claims that the Athenians were originally Pelasgian immigrants (1.56–7). Here autochthony serves as the hallmark of Athenian local pride when the freedom of Greece is at stake.141 When drawing on the example of the Trojan War, the Athenians respond to the Spartan reference to the same past via the use of Agamemnon, claim a share of this heroic past,142 and again single themselves out from all the rest of

135 See Hdt. 7.160.1: ὀνείδεα, ὑβρίσματα. 136 See Hdt. 7.161.1: οὐκ ἡγεμόνος δεομένη ἡ Ἑλλὰς ἀπέπεμψε ἡμέας πρὸς σέ, ἀλλὰ στρατιῆς. 137 ἀρχαιότατον μὲν ἔθνος παρεχόμενοι, μοῦνοι δὲ ἐόντες οὐ μετανάσται Ἑλλήνων· τῶν καὶ Ὅμηρος ὁ ἐποποιὸς ἄνδρα ἄριστον ἔφησε ἐς Ἴλιον ἀπικέσθαι τάξαι τε καὶ διακοσμῆσαι στρατόν. 138 E.g. the Arcadians (Hdt. 8.73.1; Thuc. 1.2.3; Dem. 19.261), the Thebans and the Aeginetans (Hellanicus FGrHist 4 F 161). 139 But not when they face the also indigenous Tegeans in 9.26–7 (see below, p. 286). 140 See Hornblower (2008: 21–2 and n. 27) on the ‘youth’ of colonial Syracuse. 141 On Athenian autochthony, see Loraux 1993; 2000; Rosivach 1987; Parker 1987; Hornblower 20114: 132–5 (a discussion of all four myths of Athenian identity: autochthony, the suppliant motif, the gift of grain and Ionianism). On autochthony as one of the epideictic topoi, see Loraux 1986: 148–50, 193–4, 277–8; Thomas 1989: 212, 217–18. On Herodotus’ treatment of the autochthony myth, see Pelling 2009: 479–82. On the Pelasgians in Herodotus, see e.g. Thomas 2000: 117–22; Fowler 2003b: 11–15. 142 There are, however, hardly any significant references to the role of Athens in that war in Homer. The Athenians are only mentioned with their leader Menestheus in the Catalogue of Ships (Il. 2.546–56) and a few other places. Cf. also Saïd’s (2012: 94) intelligent point that the Athenians here manipulate the Homeric text because they do away with a reference to Nestor, who is considered to be superior to Menestheus (Il. 2.555). Alliance Speeches 211 the Greeks by quoting Homer’s words that they offered the best leader (7.161.3). This insinuates that they could provide the Greeks with the best leadership now too. Moreover, the Trojan War motif has wider implications for the particular scene and for the Persian Wars in general. Not only does it stress the need for Greek unity by providing a successful mythological precedent, it also marks the lurking danger of Greek disunity: whereas back then the Greeks collaborated and won, there now seems to be a quarrel over the command which might potentially fragment the common Greek cause. At the same time, this quarrel over leadership issues resonates well with the past one between Agamemnon and Achilles that seriously endangered the common cause, and this may also provide a useful example to be avoided by the Greeks at the time of the Persian Wars and beyond.143 The heroic and panhellenic resonances of the Trojan War myth render it a favourite motif employed in political argument in Herodotus. The Trojan War is adduced again, in a much less self-centred way that better satisfies Spartan pride, by the Athenians in their dispute with the Tegeans before Plataea, as the next chapter will show.144 The Athenians put forward their argument in very delicate language: they are happy with the Spartans being in control of all the forces, but the leadership of the fleet, provided the Spartans do not want it, belongs to the Athenians and they will not allow anyone else to have it (7.161.2). The only concession the Athenians would make for the sake of Greek unity would be to accept the general leadership of Sparta. And this is not the only time we see them compromising for the same reason: we are told at 8.3.1 that, due to the dissatisfaction of the allies, the Athenians waived their claim to the command of the fleet in order not to break the Greek alliance at the start of the war. But are the Athenians really willing to compromise? Herodotus goes on to say in passage 8.3.2 that the Athenian concession was only temporary:

They continued to give ground and waived their claim, but only so long as they had great need of the others, as they demonstrated. For when they had driven the Persian back and the battle was no longer for their territory but for his, they made a pretext of Pausanias’ arrogant behaviour and took the command away from the Spartans.

Despite the need for unity as emphasized initially by the Greek messengers in their speech to Gelon, and also despite the panhellenic façade of their

143 On the Homeric overtones of the episode, see Pelling 2006b: 89–92; Grethlein 2006: 485–98; 2010: 161–7. 144 On Herodotus’, and his characters’, usage of the myth of the Trojan War, see Saïd 2012. 212 CHAPTER 3

arguments, neither the Athenians nor the Spartans are keen to negotiate leadership. Trying to prove themselves superior to each other and to the rest of the Greeks, the Spartans and the Athenians jeopardize the unity of the Greek forces. This was not an isolated incident. Their attitude points forward and backward to other such episodes in the Histories, in particular the dispute between the Tegeans and the Athenians over the command of the left wing (9.26–7) and the feud over leadership between Sparta and Argos (7.148–9). The former event receives due treatment in the next chapter, so here we will only take a brief look at the latter. According to Argive claims, as soon as they got to know about the Persian expedition against Greece and learnt that the Greeks planned to send messengers to ask for their support, they dispatched men to Delphi to inquire what the best option for them would be given their recent massacre at the hands of the Spartans. Despite the Pythia not allowing them to ally with the Greeks, the Argives were ready to comply with the Greek request if the Spartans were willing to sign a thirty-year truce and give them half of the leadership. But the Spartans offered only a third share of command. The Argives, then, indig- nant at the Spartans’ avarice (7.149.3: πλεονεξίην),145 considered it better to be ruled by foreigners than yield to the Spartans (7.149.3: ἑλέσθαι μᾶλλον ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων ἄρχεσθαι ἤ τι ὑπεῖξαι Λακεδαιμονίοισι) and ordered the messengers to leave their country before sunset or else they would be treated as enemies. In another version of the story, told throughout Greece, it is stated that the Argives knew that the Spartans would never agree to give them a share in the command, which they would use as an excuse for not participating in the war (7.150.3). Notwithstanding the accuracy of the sources, they both highlight Sparta’s stiff attitude and remind us of the fierce competition for dominance in the Peloponnese between Sparta and Argos. Both leadership and inter-city antagonism are at stake in this debate.146 The Spartans and Athenians are infused with high-handedness and with their scornful words invert the appeal to the pride and power of the addressee noted above as a topos in alliance speeches. Irritated by their attitude, Gelon gives the punch line of the episode in his final reply: “it looks as if you have the commanders, but you will not have any men for them to command” (7.162.1: ὑμεῖς οἴκατε τοὺς μὲν ἄρχοντας ἔχειν, τοὺς δὲ ἀρξομένους οὐκ ἕξειν). His pointed

145 The word πλεονεξίην is neatly echoed by πλεονέκτην in Gelon’s speech at 7.158.1. 146 See also the fine discussion of Argive motivation by Baragwanath (2008: 211–17) who, however, traces here a complex nexus of motivation that lays weight on the history of Argive- Spartan relationships and considers the Spartan attitude more important than a genuine Argive desire for command. Alliance Speeches 213 remark may also be applied to the relationships between the Greek states, especially between Sparta and Athens. Gelon rounds off his speech by saying they should announce back home that “the spring has been taken from her year” (7.162.1: ἐκ τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ τὸ ἔαρ αὐτῇ ἐξαραίρηται).147 The ensuing explana- tion148 makes it clear that Gelon compares his army with the spring, the best part of the year, which the Greeks have now lost. This loss may potentially lead to another, worse loss, that of the Greek army at the hands of the Persians. The allusion to this second loss may be buttressed by the link between Gelon’s words and the phrase Pericles is said by Aristotle to have used in his speech for the dead of the Samian War: “the youth has been removed from the city just like the spring has been taken out of the year” (Arist. Rh. 1365a30–2, 1411a2–4).149 Scholars have further observed that this phrase may be either proverbial or poetic—150this latter poetic tie, if drawn in readers’ minds, might make the dreadful consequences of war look even more dramatic. How and Wells151 suggest another possibility, that Gelon may be comparing here “the youthful vigour of the colony, Sicily, to the spring, and the effete mother- country to the latter duller months of the year”. Similarly, Grethlein sees here a reference to the youth of Syracuse and, building on this, detects rhetorical competition between Gelon with his reference to nature imagery and the future on the one hand and Sparta and Athens with their references to epic poetry and the past on the other.152 This competition at a rhetorical level points to competition between Sparta, Athens and Syracuse at the level of leadership. But the power stakes are even

147 Pelling (2006b: 91) notes that this phrase marks the culmination of the gradual alienation of the Greeks from Gelon, articulated through subtle changes in language: at first they ask for the help of the Greek Gelon for a common cause (7.157.2); he is then treated like a foreigner (7.159.1: βοηθέειν τῇ Ἑλλάδι; 7.161.1); and finally he separates himself from Greece completely (7.162). 148 Whether this is interpolated or not (see Treves 1941: 327 and n. 15), it makes no difference to the preponderance of the quote. 149 See Pelling 2006b: 91–2; 2009: 481; 2012: 305. On the link, see Meyer 1899: 221–2; How and Wells 1912: 198; Bury 1909: 63; Treves 1941 (he holds that the association betrays Herodotus’ pro-Periclean and pro-Athenian bias). 150 See Pelling 2006b: 91 n. 46; 2012: 305 n. 51 (both notes with relevant bibliography). Grethlein (2010: 169 n. 68) quotes two examples cited by Gossmann (1908: 45 n. 2 and 66 n. 4), Dem. 60.23 and Eur. Supp. 447–9. Similar passages we encounter in Aeschylus’ Persians, where the flower—not the spring—of Persia is said to have departed (59–60: τοιόνδ᾽ ἄνθος Περσίδος αἴας/ οἴχεται ἀνδρῶν; 252: τὸ Περσῶν δ᾽ ἄνθος οἴχεται πεσόν). 151 See How and Wells 1912: 198. 152 Cf. Grethlein 2010: 168–70. 214 CHAPTER 3 higher. Feeney153 associates the exchanges with the antagonism between Eastern and Western Greeks. Gelon even points out the numerical superiority of his military forces to those of the mainland Greeks (7.160.2: στρατιῆς τε ἐόντα πολλαπλησίης ἡγεμόνα καὶ νεῶν πολλὸν πλεύνων). A few chapters later, Herodotus mentions the Sicilian version of why Gelon did not help the Greeks: he could not help because he was under attack by Hamilcar of Carthage (7.165). The war concluded by the battle of Himera which, according to the Sicilians, took place on the same day as the battle of Salamis (7.166). This seems to be part of a Sicilian colonial rhetoric—popular with other Western Greeks as well—aimed at reconciling the divide between Eastern and Western Greece. Feeney nicely encapsulates this:

Here Herodotus is mediating a long-standing Sicilian project of integration together with competition. The synchronism of Himera and Salamis is a special case in its claim that the Sicilians are sharing the same anti- barbarian burden as the mainland Greeks, but it is part of a general attempt on the part of the colonists to make meaningful connections between their experience and that of the old homeland, attempting to put themselves on the map—in particular, on the map of shared historical time.154

Is Herodotus putting forward panhellenic feelings at 7.165? This may be so, but he is careful to draw attention to his Sicilian source. He definitely presents us with a fragmented notion of Hellenism and puts the problematic relations between the Greeks of the East and the Greeks of the West into perspective. Gelon’s claim that the Greeks did not support him in his previous war against Carthage, and his desire to still assist in their struggle, make more sense seen in this competitive context,155 and also cast him as morally superior to the mainland Greeks. Moral superiority is equally emphasized in the Sicilian story that Herodotus relates: Gelon would have helped the Greeks and would have agreed to fight under Spartan leadership had it not been for the Carthaginian threat (7.165). Albeit cautiously attributed to Herodotus’ sources,

153 See Feeney 2007: 44–7. 154 See Feeney 2007: 46. 155 Munson (2006: 264) construes Gelon’s statement about retaliation for the death of Dorieus along similar lines: “Gelon represents the expedition of Dorieus as a stage in a Greek-barbarian war which Gelon himself feels called upon to pursue. Herodotus is here making Gelon indulge in the propaganda by which we know the Sicilian tyrants proclaimed themselves avengers and liberators of the Greeks in the West”. Alliance Speeches 215 this story nevertheless shows the colourful canvas of motivation at play in Gelon’s case. After all, he too is as thirsty for power as Sparta and Athens,156 and equally as proud. For, in Herodotus’ main storyline, after the departure of the Greeks Gelon is afraid (δείσας) that Greece might not be in a position to defeat the barbarians, but on the other hand, being the tyrant of Syracuse, could not tolerate serving under the Spartans (οὐκ ἀνασχετὸν). So he implements a strategy that would benefit him either way: he dispatches Cadmus to Delphi to wait and see what the result of the conflict would be and orders him, if the Persians are victorious, to give the great amount of money that he was bringing with him and offer alliance to Xerxes; if the Greeks won, he was instructed to go back to Sicily (7.163).157 Munson158 assesses Gelon’s motivation more negatively and argues for Herodotus’ anti-Gelonian take in narrating the embassy scene. She casts the antagonistic relationship between the Greeks of the East and those of the West in a slightly different, political register: Sicily is identified with tyranny, hence linked with eastern, barbaric constitutional types and Persia, which makes any cooperation between the Greeks of the East and those of the West hard. The Sicilian-Persian comparison is corroborated by the fact that, as Herodotus narrates in sketching the background to Gelon’s ascendancy to power, Hippocrates and Gelon expanded their sphere of influence by attacking mainly Greek cities in Sicily.159 That Gelon is a tyrant might impinge on the Spartan and Athenian refusal to share leadership. As much as this line of thought may succeed in bringing out differences, it also highlights similarities between Gelon and the Greeks, both Spartans and Athenians. Sparta, Athens, Gelon, all aspire to the command of the Greek forces and their motivation is equally controversial. The competitive feeling of the scene is increased by the affinities the arguments bear to funeral and panegyric speeches. In particular, the Trojan War, autochthony and the age of the

156 See the Athenian observation at 7.161.1: σὺ δὲ ὅκως μὲν στρατιὴν πέμψεις μὴ ἡγεύμενος τῆς Ἑλλάδος, οὐ προφαίνεις, ὡς δὲ στρατηγήσεις αὐτῆς, γλίχεαι “you seem to be refusing to send an army unless you achieve your goal of winning a position of authority over Greece”. 157 On Gelon’s motivation as a combination of better and worse, see Baragwanath 2008: 218– 20. Note also another possible strand of underlying motivation in Baragwanath (2008: 220): “Might it be that—conscious of his powerlessness at this point in time—rather than explaining the situation frankly Gelon demanded the leadership in order not to be given it, so as to retain his dignity by avoiding admitting inability to lend aid?” 158 See Munson 2006: 263–5 (with relevant bibliography). 159 See Hdt. 8.154.2: Callipolis, Naxos, Zancle, Leontini, Syracuse; 8.156.2–3: Camarina, Gela, Sicilian Megara and Euboea. 216 CHAPTER 3

Athenian nation were counted among the standard epideictic motifs.160 The Spartan speech could be equally cast as panegyric; theirs is compact, attuned to their laconic nature, but Agamemnon’s authority makes their argument powerful enough. Nor does Gelon fail to keep up either. By drawing in and on Pericles’ Samian oration, Gelon winks an eye at both the Spartans and Athenians while composing his own panegyric. It is as if he is telling them “just because my past falls short of yours, this does not mean I cannot do my own epideictic speech”.161 But is Gelon merely making his own epideictic speech here? Gelon may be also criticizing the Greeks, making it clear that they have turned this plea for help into a contest of self-laudatory panegyrics.162 Readers are invited to see the embassy scene as a test that the Greeks and Gelon have to pass. In the end, none of them is willing to yield command to anyone else, thus failing to put collective above local interest. The attempt to win an ally has been transformed into desperate verbal duels about who is in charge. Herodotus takes the opportunity to stress the danger of Greek disunity, which emerges constantly behind the alleged cooperation in the common Greek cause. This disunity crosses the borders of the Greek mainland and reaches the Western part of the Greek world. The audience is further invited to project this fight for leadership beyond the scope of the Histories to the future and even further, to the contemporary context and the clash between the two super-powers, Athens and Sparta, in the Peloponnesian War.163 The indirect reference to Pericles’ Samian funeral oration in Gelon’s speech is significantly conducive to this proleptical reading. There is more we can do with Pericles’ speech if we consider it as an intertext. In this same speech, Pericles claimed that his expedition against Samos was greater than Agamemnon’s against Troy (Ion of Chios FGrHist 392 F 16 =

160 These are dealt with in detail in the next chapter, in the discussion of the Tegean-Athenian dispute which corresponds even stronger to epideictic speeches. How and Wells (1912: 198) and Scardino (2007: 220–1) note the similarities between the Athenian speech and epideictic speeches. Scardino (2007: 220 and n. 402) also sees the Athenian speech as a preparation for, and complement to, the speech of the Athenians in their debate with the Tegeans in book 9. 161 This line of interpretation is supported by How and Wells’ (1912: 198) remark that the fact that these exchanges share elements with the epitaphioi increases the likelihood that Herodotus borrows the phrase from Pericles’ Samian speech. 162 Note that ἐξαραίρηται in Gelon’s final speech (7.162.1) recalls ἀπαραιρῆσθαι in Syagrus’ (7.159), which for Grethlein (2010: 168 n. 66) serves to juxtapose the two arguments. Baragwanath (2012a: 49–50) traces a similarity in Gelon’s and Syagrus’ views on the repetition of the past. The production of irony is also a possibility. 163 Cf. Pelling 2009: 481 (specifically on Athenian autochthony). Alliance Speeches 217

Plut. Per. 28.5). Pelling164 poignantly observes here the juxtaposition between Pericles praising the deed of the present and Herodotus underlining the unin- terrupted connection between past and present. Beyond that, there may be a subtle hint of competition between Sparta, represented by Agamemnon, and Athens, reflected in a contemporary Agamemnon, Pericles. A Thucydidean and post-Thucydidean reader could see in Herodotus’ embassy scene a precedent for the Sicilian expedition and the ways in which the conflicts between the Western Greek cities implicated Athens and Sparta in a renewed conflict, concluded by the annihilation of the Athenian forces at the port of Syracuse.

3.3.3 Constructing a Debate to Display Ethnic Feelings: Alexander and the Spartans at Athens In preparation for his next move after Xerxes left him in control of the Persian forces in Greece, Mardonius sets his plans in action: he sends Mys of Euromus165 to consult several Greek oracles and then Alexander of Macedon to deliver a conciliatory message to the Athenians (8.135–6). Alexander makes an appealing offer while the Spartan messengers, who are also present, try to deter the Athenians from compromising with the barbarians. The Athenians reject the Persian alliance, declare their commitment to Greece and ask for Spartan help (8.140–4). The debate unveils the fragility of the Greek confederation as it complicates the nature of the relationship between Sparta and Athens. An ongoing conflict between these two cities is spelt out in the narrative in a double way: through Spartan anxiety that the Athenians might take up the Persian offer and, most importantly, through the construction of the debate by the Athenians for the purpose of showing off their resolve to the Spartans. Alexander’s proposition for the submission of the Athenians incorporates three messages: Xerxes’ (as reported to Alexander by Mardonius), Mardonius’ and Alexander’s own (8.140). Xerxes promises to give the Athenians back their land and even more as well as self-government, and to restore their burnt temples. Mardonius’ words dwell on the Persians’ excellence and numerical advantage by contrast to Athenian impotence;166 he aims at arousing fear, underlines the futility of Greek resistance and promises freedom only if they

164 See Pelling 2006b: 92 n. 47. 165 Cf. above, p. 166 n. 222. 166 E.g. 8.140α.3: ὥστε καὶ ἢν ἡμέας ὑπερβάλησθε καὶ νικήσητε, τοῦ περ ὑμῖν οὐδεμία ἐλπὶς εἴ περ εὖ φρονέετε, ἄλλη παρέσται πολλαπλησίη “so even if you overcome and defeat us, which is entirely unlikely as you will appreciate if you have any sense, another far larger force will appear”. 218 CHAPTER 3 submit. Alexander lays emphasis on the king’s superhuman power and the number of nations he commands, expresses his concern (8.140β.3: δειμαίνω) for the Athenians, highlights the dangerous geographical position of Athens, begs (8.140β.1: προσχρηίζω) them to make an agreement with Xerxes and points out the exclusivity of the offer: “it is worth a great deal to you that you are the only people in Greece whose wrongs the Great King is prepared to forgive and with whom he wants to be friends”.167 This concluding argument is remarkably well attuned to the Athenians’ elitist tendencies. The embedded speeches168 create an anti-climax in the authority of the speakers which brings the Persian threat gradually geographically closer to the Athenians. The proposal becomes also progressively urgent as the initial reward becomes a threat and then a warning. In addition, ‘autonomy’ (Xerxes) is replaced by ‘freedom’ (Mardonius) and lastly by ‘friendship’ (Alexander). All this rhetorical embellishment, combined with threats and material enticements, makes the suggestion gradually more tempting.169 That all this is described as Xerxes’ initiative enhances the authority and, therefore, the persuasiveness of the speech. But at the same time, the report of Xerxes’ message undermines the authority of the speech because the narrative raises questions about its validity. It is highly unlikely that Xerxes is behind all this, since up to this point the king is nowhere presented as contemplating, still less as having any firm intention to offer amnesty to the Athenians. Nor is there a hint of a connection between Xerxes and Mardonius after the parting of the forces. Here silence is significant, since we are given an explicit indication as to where the initiative was taken: Herodotus expounds Mardonius’ thoughts in detail and overtly states that the mission is Mardonius’ idea.170 At the beginning of book 9, it is once again Mardonius who sends another envoy to Athens. Rather than attributing Xerxes’ message to Herodotus’ sources or Herodotus’ hesitation to assign so decisive a move to Mardonius alone, it makes more sense to interpret it as a rhetorical device to achieve persuasion.171

167 πολλοῦ γὰρ ὑμῖν ἄξια ταῦτα, εἰ βασιλεύς γε ὁ μέγας μούνοισι ὑμῖν Ἑλλήνων τὰς ἁμαρτάδας ἀπιεὶς ἐθέλει φίλος γενέσθαι. 168 Another manifestation of the formal and roundabout character of Persian communication, discussed in ch. 2. 169 On the rhetorical elaboration of the speech, see Solmsen 1982: 164; Scaife 1989: 136; Masaracchia 19902: 228. 170 See Hdt. 8.136.1–2: ἅμα δὲ ὁ Μαρδόνιος πυθόμενος ὅτι πρόξεινός τε εἴη καὶ εὐεργέτης ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος ἔπεμπε. τοὺς γὰρ Ἀθηναίους οὕτω ἐδόκεε μάλιστα προσκτήσεσθαι. 171 See Solmsen 1944: 244 n. 10. Alliance Speeches 219

Besides the effect on the external audience of the speech, suspicion of falsehood may also be raised in the internal recipients of the speech since, with the interference of multiple go-betweens, it is possible that something has been lost in the process of transfer.172 On this basis, it would be quite attractive to explicate the refusal of the Athenians not only on patriotic grounds but also on narratological grounds: Alexander’s speech does not give a strong impression of verisimilitude as it is distanced so much from Xerxes, the alleged source of the message. The dynamics of communication may equally play some part: the indirectness of Persian communication is worlds apart from the direct contact among the Greeks.173 The Spartan speech reinforces the impression that Alexander’s message is not initiated by Xerxes174 but is a rhetorical ploy designed by Mardonius. The Spartan statement βαρβάροισί ἐστι οὔτε πιστὸν οὔτε ἀληθὲς οὐδέν (8.142.5: “You cannot trust or believe barbarians at all”) alludes, and replies, to Mardonius’ words about making an alliance with the Persians ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης (8.140α.4: “without craft and deceit”).175 Herodotus thus throws this standard diplomatic expression back in the faces of the Persians: the barbarians cannot even make reliable treaties, which may imply their inability to make honest speeches. In other words, Alexander’s speech is pure δόλος prompted by Mardonius, the very same thing, that is, which Mardonius himself rejects in his speech. There is also weight in the Spartan argument that Alexander softens Mardonius’ words (8.142.4: λεήνας τὸν Μαρδονίου λόγον). First, this suggests that the Spartans too hold Mardonius responsible for the message. Second, it

172 Cf. also Barker 2009: 195. 173 Albeit not without qualifications, as discussed in ch. 2. 174 As does the specific reference to Mardonius in the Athenians’ answer to Alexander: ἀπάγγελλε Μαρδονίῳ (8.143.2). 175 This is a formulaic expression used in Greek and international diplomacy (see Macan 1908b: 582; Masaracchia 19902: 229). Similar clauses appear in Thucydides (see Bowie 2007: 231). It is employed twice more in the Histories with reference to barbarians offering alliance to Greeks: 1.69.2 (Croesus) and 9.7α.1 (back reference to Alexander’s mission). But even the Spartans are considered to be neither trustworthy nor reliable by the Athenians (9.54.1: ἐπιστάμενοι τὰ Λακεδαιμονίων φρονήματα ὡς ἄλλα φρονεόντων καὶ ἄλλα λεγόντων). Cf. the Spartans’ rejection of the Plataeans’ request for alliance and Herodotus’ authorial gloss at 6.108.2–3. Cf. also Thucydides’ comments on Brasidas at 4.108.5. On Spartan duplicity, see Masaracchia 19902: 230; Bradford 1994: 59–85. For a similar depiction in tragedy, cf. Hall (1989: 214): “Euripides’ Andromache sees Spartans in terms of barbaric qualities including treachery, cunning, duplicity, lust, lust for power, lawlessness, self- aggrandizement, and female freedom—in the cause of the Peloponnesian War”. 220 CHAPTER 3 bears some resemblance to the authorial phrase that concludes Mardonius’ speech to Xerxes in the Persian council scene (7.10.1: Μαρδόνιος μὲν τοσαῦτα ἐπιλεήνας τὴν Ξέρξεω γνώμην ἐπέπαυτο “thus Mardonius smoothed Xerxes’ resolution and stopped”). In the latter part of that speech, Mardonius makes false claims that the Greeks are bad fighters and that they did not dare to confront him in a battle. In light of this passage, then, we may infer that the word λεήνας has here a similar meaning, that is, ‘smoothing over’, or even ‘lying’.176 The use of the same verb ([ἐπι]λεαίνω) for both the general and his messenger may indicate that Mardonius had extra reasons for choosing Alexander as his negotiator. Alexander does a very good job of reporting a harsh speech in a diplomatic and tempting language. To the reasons why he fails we may now add that the Athenians are perhaps able to see through Mardonius’ δόλος—or could it be that the Spartan speech, as it exposes barbarian perfidy, gives the Athenians a different perspective on Alexander’s speech, or a perspective that the Athenians initially underestimated?177 Nevertheless, the Spartan intervention to stress the deceitful Persian offer is not as altruistic as the Spartans present it. This is one of the very few long Spartan speeches in the Histories. They plead with the Athenians not to succumb to the Persian proposal for the welfare of Greece. They continue along these lines: “It is unfair and inappropriate to do so. You started this war to defend your territory, but now the whole of Greece is implicated. In the past you liberated people and now it would be unbearable if you became responsible for the subjugation of Greece. We and our allies are willing to help you in your difficulties by protecting the women and non-combatant population for the duration of the war. Do not be lured by Alexander’s lies. He is just a tyrant working with another tyrant. The barbarians are unreliable and dishonest” (8.142). They manifestly use panhellenic talk (the words Ἑλλάς/Ἕλληνες feature four times in their speech) and noble motivations with an emotional underlay.178

176 Cf. Bowie (2007: 234): “’Smooth’ in connection with words regularly implies deceit” (he goes on to cite an example from Solon 34.3 W). 177 Note, however, that perhaps the Athenians had reason to trust Alexander, who offered good advice to the Greeks at Tempe, when he sent messengers to point out the weakness of the position and the size of the Persian army (7.173.3). But his action back then was not completely altruistic either, as it would make Xerxes look favourably upon Alexander, who had eliminated Greek resistance in Thessaly. In addition, Herodotus believes that, although the Greeks accepted Alexander’s advice, in fact they withdrew because they were afraid when they learnt that there was another way into Thessaly from upper Macedonia through Perrhaebia (7.173.4). This may already imply some distrust towards Alexander. 178 See Hdt. 8.142.2: οὔτε γὰρ δίκαιον οὐδαμῶς οὔτε κόσμον φέρον; 8.142.3: οὐδαμῶς ἀνασχετόν. Alliance Speeches 221

Their initiative could indeed be motivated by genuine concern for the threat to the Greek cause. The narrative, however, points to self-centred incentives. The Spartans want to protect their own interests as they remember a prophecy that the Dorians would one day be expelled from the Peloponnese by the Persians and Athenians (8.141.1: ἀναμνησθέντες τῶν λογίων . . . κάρτα τε ἔδεισαν μὴ ὁμολογήσωσι τῷ Πέρσῃ Ἀθηναῖοι).179 Even their use of ‘freedom’ is manipulated: whereas at 5.93.2 they want to deprive Athens of its freedom,180 at 8.142.3 they appeal to the same freedom and the Athenians’ reputation as ‘liberators’ to dissuade them from allying with the Persians.181 Two points can be made here. On the one hand, the links with 5.93 become all the more pertinent in light of the Spartan remark that tyrants cooperate with tyrants with regard to Alexander (8.142.5: τύραννος γὰρ ἐὼν τυράννῳ συγκατεργάζεται). The prior narrative attests to the fact that Sparta has been very friendly with Hippias. Other narrative sections show Sparta allying with Croesus, liaising closely with Isagoras and being ready to accept the aid of the tyrant Gelon on fulfilling the right conditions. Ironically, it was during the Peloponnesian War when Sparta looked to Persia for an ally. Herodotus himself already considers the possibility that the Spartans—just as well as the Athenians—might have medized at the time of the Persian Wars (7.139.4).182 Bowie183 draws attention to the fact that in the Histories Alexander is only mentioned as a king (9.44.1: βασιλεύς) and not a tyrant. Herodotus may have the Spartans substitute the first for the second to highlight their point by repetition while also enhancing the contemporary connotations of the phrase. On the other hand, urging the Athenians to honour their reputation as liberators (ἐλευθερώσαντες) bears a hint of self-interest too and as such is well

179 Cf. the exposure of selfish Spartan motives in book 3: they help the Samian exiles not to show gratitude for previous Samian service but rather to avenge the robbery by the Samians of valuable gifts (3.47). Note that the focalizers here are the Spartans themselves: ὡς δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι (3.47.1). 180 On this episode, see above, pp. 130–5. 181 αἰτίους γενέσθαι δουλοσύνης τοῖσι Ἕλλησι Ἀθηναίους οὐδαμῶς ἀνασχετόν, οἵτινες αἰεὶ καὶ τὸ πάλαι φαίνεσθε πολλοὺς ἐλευθερώσαντες ἀνθρώπων. Note also the striking verbal echo of μὴ ποιέειν μηδὲν νεώτερον περὶ πόλιν Ἑλλάδα “not to interfere with another Greek city” (5.93.2) in μήτε νεώτερον ποιέειν μηδὲν κατὰ τὴν Ἑλλάδα “not to interfere rashly in Greece” (8.142.1). The rules of the game have now changed: in the former passage the Spartan allies urge the Spartans, whilst in the latter the Spartans themselves urge the Athenians. Cf. also Hooker 1989: 129 (concluding “So while it is true that Sparta had never been ruled by a tyrant, it cannot be true that she hated tyranny on principle”); Pelling 2006c: 113 and n. 37. 182 On the Spartans’ inconsistent attitude, see also van der Veen 1996: 108. 183 See Bowie 2007: 235. 222 CHAPTER 3 considered. The Athenians are detached from the rest of Greece and elevated to a higher status, with their mythical role as protectors of suppliants and benefactors of Greece.184 The Spartans press the need for continuity between past and present. The allusion to the long lists of Athenian achievements— both mythical and historical—in epideictic speeches is inescapable, as are the implications: the Spartans here address Athenian local pride to stir only partly idealistic motivations. Contemporary echoes are also generated since during the Peloponnesian War the Spartans advertized themselves as liberators, this time from tyrannical Athens.185 In a display of rhetorical dexterity, where wider and narrower interests are either called forth or implied, the Spartans even accuse the Athenians of bald expediency in a roundabout manner: they blame them for starting a war to defend their own land and against the will of the Spartans.186 The ambiguity of the word ἀρχῆθεν, which might denote both ‘beginning’ and ‘empire’,187 certainly rings a bell with the contemporary audience, well versed in the setting up and the workings of the Athenian arche.188 The references to each city’s advantage spell out the nature and purpose of the debate. The narrative preceding the Spartan speech has already shed light on base Athenian motivation and uneasy Atheno-Spartan relations. The Athenians knew well that the Spartans, alert to the prospect of an Atheno- Persian pact, would send their ambassadors to Athens. Hence they deliberately delayed and did not let Alexander speak in front of the assembly until the Spartan messengers arrived in Athens, because the Athenians intended

184 More fully discussed in the next chapter and in the context of the Athenian-Tegean dispute. 185 See e.g. Thuc. 2.8.4; 4.85.1. Cf. also Thuc. 1.18.1, where the historian refers in his own voice to the reputation of the Spartans as liberators before the Persian Wars: the Spartans’ role in bringing down tyrannies in Greece was instrumental. 186 See Hdt. 8.142.2: ἠγείρατε γὰρ τόνδε τὸν πόλεμον ὑμεῖς οὐδὲν ἡμέων βουλομένων, καὶ περὶ τῆς ὑμετέρης ἀρχῆθεν ὁ ἀγὼν ἐγένετο· νῦν δὲ φέρει καὶ ἐς πᾶσαν τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 187 Bowie (2007: 233) follows the manuscripts in reading ἀρχῆς ‘empire’ instead, which affords the sentence “a doubly balanced structure”, and comments that the concept of ‘beginning’ receives already double emphasis with the use of ἠγείρατε ‘you started’ and ἐγένετο ‘began’. 188 Irwin’s (2007: 47 n. 16) argument about comparable ambiguity in the phrase ἀρχὴ κακῶν at 5.97.3 (’beginning of evils’ or ‘empire of evils’)—also adopted by Munson 2007: 155 and n. 44; Henderson 2007: 305 and n. 55—is not entirely convincing since the context there does not support a double interpretation in the same way as in 8.142.2. Alliance Speeches 223 to show off their resolution in front of the Spartans (8.141.2).189 All this casts doubts on the sincerity of their declarations and especially of the celebrated definition of Greek ethnicity. The Athenians’ aim is to emphasize their decision not to yield to the Persians as a product of their strong devotion to the Greek nation. Their reply to Alexander runs as follows:

In actual fact, we are already aware of the disparity between the resources at our disposal and Xerxes’ enormous power, so there was no need for your pointed reminder. Nevertheless, such is our love of freedom (ἐλευθερίης) that we will defend ourselves in whatever way we can. As for making terms with Persia, it is useless to try to persuade us; for we shall never consent. And now tell Mardonius that the Athenians say that, so long as the sun keeps to its present course, we will never come to terms with Xerxes (ἔστ᾽ ἂν ὁ ἥλιος τὴν αὐτὴν ὁδὸν ἴῃ τῇ περ καὶ νῦν ἔρχεται, μήκοτε ὁμολογήσειν ἡμέας Ξέρξῃ). On the contrary, we will take to the field and fight against him, confident of the support of the gods and heroes for whom he felt such utter contempt (οὐδεμίαν ὄπιν ἔχων) that he burnt their temples and statues. Never come to us again with a proposal like this, and never think you are doing us good service when you urge us to a course which is outrageous. We would not like to see you come to any harm at the hands of the Athenians, when you are our friend and benefactor. (8.143)

This is a blatantly negative response, followed by a threat to counterbalance Mardonius’ threats reported by Alexander. Lofty language with poetic resonances drastically enhances the gravity of the circumstances, the significance of the Athenian reaction, and Athenian pride. Elsewhere in the Histories, in Socles’ speech to the Spartans and their allies in book 5, we encounter a formulation analogous to the sun maintaining its normal course. There Sparta’s intention to replace democracy with tyranny in the cities is compared to the breaking of natural laws: “earth and sky will soon be changing places, men will be living in the sea and fish on land” (5.92α.1).190 In both cases we deal with

189 ἐπανέμειναν γὰρ οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι διατρίβοντες, εὖ ἐπιστάμενοι ὅτι ἔμελλον Λακεδαιμόνιοι πεύσεσθαι ἥκοντα παρὰ τοῦ βαρβάρου ἄγγελον ἐπ᾽ ὁμολογίῃ πυθόμενοί τε πέμψειν κατὰ τάχος ἀγγέλους. ἐπίτηδες ὦν ἐποίευν, ἐνδεικνύμενοι τοῖσι Λακεδαιμονίοισι τὴν ἑωυτῶν γνώμην. 190 ἦ δὴ ὅ τε οὐρανὸς ἔνερθε ἔσται τῆς γῆς καὶ ἡ γῆ μετέωρος ὑπὲρ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, καὶ ἄνθρωποι νομὸν ἐν θαλάσσῃ ἕξουσι καὶ ἰχθύες τὸν πρότερον ἄνθρωποι. Macan (1908b: 588), How and Wells 224 CHAPTER 3 a kind of tirade against tyranny/slavery. The difference is that, whereas with Socles we have only an ἀδύνατον employed to emphasize the impossibility of the intended action with vividness,191 with the Athenians we have something more than a mere rhetorical figure. Their solemn usage of the phrase rather recalls the chorus in Euripides’ Electra 700–40, where Zeus shows his displea- sure at Thyestes’ crimes by changing the course of the sun. Correspondingly, it would be an appalling crime if the Athenians came to terms with the Persians. The distinctly poetic word ὄπις (8.143.2)—common in epic and epinician (and later in bucolic) poetry, with slightly different nuances of meaning—192 adds to the solemnity of the speech. In this Herodotean passage as well as in 9.76.2,193 the word bears the unique meaning of ‘awful regard which men pay to the gods’.194 The closing words of the speech, however, might make such noble rhetoric sound superficial or at least ironic. The Athenians identify Alexander as their benefactor and friend (8.143.3: πρόξεινόν τε καὶ φίλον) but there is no further elaboration as to how he acquired this status—neither here nor earlier when Herodotus explains why Mardonius chose Alexander as his representative in Athens (8.136.1) or when Alexander invokes his benevolence towards the Athenians (8.140β.1). A simple explanation would be that the supply of wood for the Athenian fleet (employed at Salamis) earned Alexander his title as πρόξεινος (and εὐεργέτης or φίλος) of the Athenians, or some of them.195 If this is the case, then it is hard to explain why Herodotus omits any reference to this as it would be an obvious point for Alexander to make. A more convincing

(1912: 286) and Masaracchia (19902: 230) all note the similarity and cite a Sophoclean parallel in Philoctetes 1329–31: καὶ παῦλαν ἴσθι τῆσδε μή ποτ᾽ ἂν τυχεῖν/ νόσου βαρείας, ἕως ἂν αὑτὸς ἥλιος/ ταύτῃ μὲν αἴρῃ, τῇδε δ᾽ αὖ δύνῃ πάλιν “be certain you will never find relief from your hard illness while the sun continues to rise and set again”. Cf. also the exaggerated manner in which the orator Hypereides compares Athens’ magnanimity and devotion to justice with the sun (6.5). 191 See Nenci 1994: 285. 192 See e.g. Il. 16.388; Od. 14.12; 20.215; 21.28; Hesiod Op. 249, 706; Theog. 222; Pindar Pyth. 8.71; Ol. 2.6; Isth. 5.58; Theocritus 25.4. In Homer, Hesiod and Theocritus, the word designates divine action (either with the genitive θεῶν or without) only in a bad sense, as in ‘ven- geance’ or ‘punishment’. Pindar uses the word for the favourable regard of the gods for man as well as for human regard (not for the gods but for humanity). 193 On passage 9.76.2, see further below, pp. 271–5. On the epic character of the scene, see Flower and Marincola 2002: 240–3. 194 Cf. also Macan 1908b: 588; lsj s.v. ὄπις. 195 Followed by Walbank (1978: 66), Meiggs (1982: 123) and Scaife (1989: 135) on the basis of a supposed Macedonian fear of Persian retribution, but rejected by Wallace 1970: 199 n. 13. Alliance Speeches 225 solution has been suggested by Badian.196 He explains Alexander’s proxenia as inherited from Amyntas’ xenia with the tyrant Hippias (cf. 5.94.1), and he argues that Alexander got his euergesia from supporting the Athenians’ plea at Sardis to compromise with the Great King (5.73). Herodotus perhaps deliberately withholds the information, and indeed rightly, for both explanations would be inappropriate at this critical point where the Athenian democracy is about to make the crucial decision to save Greece from the barbarians. If Badian is right, the affirmation of the Athenians that they will never cooperate with Xerxes is highly questionable, given that in the past they have worked together with the Macedonian tyrants, also for the purpose of making an alliance with Persian tyrants. There ensues a longer reply to the Spartans, a blend of fine arguments and agonistic spirit against Sparta. The Athenians treat Spartan fears contemptuously:197 “it was natural that the Spartans were afraid that we might come to terms with Persia, but we still think your fear reflects badly on you (αἰσχρῶς), because you are perfectly well aware of the Athenian temperament” (8.144.1). The next phrase picks up the stylistic elevation in the answer to Alexander: “there is not so much gold in the world nor land so fair that we would take it for pay to join the common enemy and bring Greece into subjection” (8.144.1).198 The Athenians’ dedication to Greece and its freedom cannot be bought off by materialistic promises, a sentiment that culminates in the renowned definition of Greek ethnicity (τὸ Ἑλληνικόν):

πολλά τε γὰρ καὶ μεγάλα ἐστὶ τὰ διακωλύοντα ταῦτα μὴ ποιέειν μηδ᾽ ἢν ἐθέλωμεν, πρῶτα μὲν καὶ μέγιστα τῶν θεῶν τὰ ἀγάλματα καὶ τὰ οἰκήματα ἐμπεπρησμένα τε καὶ συγκεχωσμένα, τοῖσι ἡμέας ἀναγκαίως ἔχει τιμωρέειν ἐς τὰ μέγιστα μᾶλλον ἤ περ ὁμολογέειν τῷ ταῦτα ἐργασαμένῳ, αὖτις δὲ τὸ Ἑλληνικόν, ἐὸν ὅμαιμόν τε καὶ ὁμόγλωσσον, καὶ θεῶν ἱδρύματά τε κοινὰ καὶ θυσίαι ἤθεά τε ὁμότροπα, τῶν προδότας γενέσθαι Ἀθηναίους οὐκ ἂν εὖ ἔχοι. (8.144.2)

There are many compelling reasons against our doing so [i.e. submitting to the Persians], even if we wished: the first and greatest is the burning of the temples and statues of our gods—now ashes and rubble. Rather

196 See Badian 1994: 119–27; cf. Hornblower 2002: 382–3. 197 See also Bowie (2007: 235): “To begin a speech ‘That the Spartans should be afraid . . .’ borders on the provocative and to refer to that fear as ‘shameful’ increases the provocation”. 198 οὔτε χρυσός ἐστι γῆς οὐδαμόθι τοσοῦτος οὔτε χώρη κάλλεϊ καὶ ἀρετῇ μέγα ὑπερφέρουσα, τὰ ἡμεῖς δεξάμενοι ἐθέλοιμεν ἂν μηδίσαντες καταδουλῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 226 CHAPTER 3

than entering into a treaty with the perpetrator of these deeds, we are duty-bound to do our outmost to avenge them. Then again, there is the Greek nation, the community of blood and language, temples and ritual, and our common customs. It would not be good for Athens to betray all this shared heritage.

It is crucial to understand the context of this frequently quoted passage. This definition surprisingly comes second, after the Athenians talk about the need to take revenge for their burnt temples and statues of the gods, and is squeezed between self-centred and self-asserting pretensions.199 The speech thus looks more like a eulogy of Athens as the defender of Greek unity. Devotion to the Greek nation is the vehicle to bring to the fore the contribution of the Athenians and the major role they play in the war, as well as their distinguished position among the Greek cities. Even if the speech is meant to be read as a call for unity,200 its framing definitely blurs its motivation.201 Framing the debate as an attempt on the part of the Athenians to advertise their panhellenism in the presence of the Spartans further calls into question the genuineness of the definition of Greek ethnicity. The extratextual audience is invited to see the fragility of this definition by juxtaposing it with the narrative of the Histories where Greek ties of blood, common language, customs and religion are all rendered questionable or ambiguous due to remarkable diversity among the Greeks and appropriation of non-Greek elements. The extratextual reception may operate the other way round too: Herodotus may be highlighting these ‘common’ qualities between the Greeks to remind his contemporary Greeks vying for power that they all share the same origin and culture. The elements that bring them closer are much stronger than those that separate them. The Athenians go on to reassure the Spartans once more, in an exaggerated manner, that, in case the Spartans did not know it already, so long as a single Athenian remains alive, they will never ally with Xerxes (8.144.3). They conclude their speech by thanking the Spartans for offering to safeguard their families,202 an offer which they politely decline as they do not want to overload

199 Cf. Hohti 1976: 70; Solmsen 1982: 165; Bowie 2007: 235–6. 200 Cf. Konstan 2001: 34. 201 Cf. Pelling (2006c: 113): “There are some ironies too, but they need not undermine that force of the freedom rhetoric nor the admiration of Athens: both of those strands are vital if we are to understand why Greece won”; Baragwanath 2008: 230–1. 202 ὑμέων μέντοι ἀγάμεθα τὴν προνοίην τὴν ἐς ἡμέας ἔχουσαν, ὅτι προείδετε ἡμέων οἰκοφθορημένων οὕτω ὥστε ἐπιθρέψαι ἐθέλειν ἡμέων τοὺς οἰκέτας. In this sentence that borrows words and the usage of μέντοι from the Spartan speech (8.142.3–4), Bowie (2007: 237) sees “an Alliance Speeches 227 the Spartans—they request instead the immediate dispatch of an army in Boeotia to protect Attica against the coming Persian attack (8.144.3–5). Spartan and Athenian motivations are clearly ambiguous. The Athenian stance, moreover, alludes proleptically to their seeking Persian help at the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War.203 Distrust, disdain, arrogance and inter-Greek competition feature in this ‘performance’ of the Athenians’ commitment to the Greek cause.204 We have already noted that display in Herodotus is associated with tyrants, tyrannical aspirations and the concealment of real motives, hence with sophistic rhetoric and deception. The fabrication of this debate by the Athenians for the purpose of demonstration (8.141.2: ἐνδεικνύμενοι) may disclose similar qualities in the Athenian character. The abundance of first- and second-person plural personal pronouns in the final part of the Athenian speech when they ask for help (8.144.3–5)205 is indicative of a polarized way of thinking, permeated by the contrast between ‘us’ and ‘you’. Herodotus is able to see both sides of the Greeks. Neither Athens nor Sparta, or for that matter any Greek city, can be completely free of self-interest, but this does not mean that they are incapable of some virtue. And alliance speeches play on both self-importance/-interest and moral arguments. The next and last test case throws further light on the pompous Athenian declarations sketched here and on Sparta’s sluggish attitude following the Athenian appeal for help.

3.3.4 Threatening with Betrayal to Achieve Unity: Employing Negotiating Tricks to Face a Non-Responsive Audience? Just as the Athenians anticipated at the end of their speech to the Spartans in the previous section, as soon as Mardonius receives the news of the Athenians’ refusal to medize, he sets off for Athens. In his journey from Thessaly to Athens he enlarges his army by enlisting soldiers from all of the cities he passes through. After a short pause at Boeotia and the unsuccessful Theban suggestion for

element of ingratitude and even sanctimoniousness in the ‘tit-for-tat’ manner in which the Athenians do this”. He also detects a similar indication of a scornful attitude in the next phrase: καὶ ὑμῖν μὲν ἡ χάρις ἐκπεπλήρωται, ἡμεῖς μέντοι (8.144.4). 203 Macan (1908b: 589) points out another ironic hint in the phrase μηδίσαντες καταδουλῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα (8.144.1): “there is only too much point in the participle; the Athenian arche was originally based upon opposition to Persia, but opposition to Persia did not preclude καταδουλῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα—rather it furnished the means and excuse therefor. This passage reads so naïvely that it looks early; not like an apology on the part of the τυραννὸς πόλις of the age of Perikles, but rather like a bid for the hegemony of a free Hellas”. 204 Similarly Barker (2009: 197): “a show of loyalty and commitment to the common cause” (his italics). 205 ὑμέων, ἡμέας, ἡμέων, ἡμέων, ὑμῖν, ἡμεῖς, ὑμέας, ἡμεῖς, ἡμέων, ἡμέας. 228 CHAPTER 3 reconsideration of his aggressive policy, Mardonius arrives at Attica and occupies an empty city (9.3.2: αἱρέει τε ἔρημον τὸ ἄστυ), as the Athenians have either crossed over to Salamis or manned the fleet (9.1–3). Despite their haste to send messengers to Athens when Alexander was there presenting the Persian offer, the Spartans delay in dispatching help to Athens. Hence the Athenians are forced to evacuate their city as the Persians advance. The Athenians send envoys (from Athens, Megara and Plataea) to Sparta to blame the Spartans for Mardonius’ invasion of Attica and refresh their memory of the tempting Persian offer—an offer they would reconsider if abandoned by the Spartans (9.6). It takes ten days, two Athenian speeches and threats of medism until the Spartans finally give a positive response. Only a few chapters after their robust refusal of the Persian alliance, the Athenians declare at Sparta that they will ally with Xerxes. The prominence of the episode is defined by the combination of two parameters: an alleged contrast between the attitude of the Athenians here and their attitude at the end of book 8, and the pragmatic Spartan motivation. Is the use of the argument about an Atheno-Persian alliance a mere rhetorical device to achieve persuasion? Do the Athenians respond to pragmatism with pragmatism? Or is it that Spartan pragmatism furnishes a fine excuse for the Athenians to accept an offer hard to resist? Preoccupied with the celebration of the Hyacinthia,206 and with the wall across the Isthmus nearly completed (9.7.1), the Spartans shirk their duty to Greece. In the next chapter, Herodotus explicitly states what he thinks was the reason for the delay: when the wall was nearly ready, the Spartans were pro- tected and thought they did not need the Athenians any more (9.8.2: ὁ Ἰσθμός σφι ἐτετείχιστο καὶ ἐδόκεον Ἀθηναίων ἔτι δέεσθαι οὐδέν). The speech of the messengers sent on behalf of Athens, in addition to reminding the Spartans of Alexander’s appealing proposal (8.140),207 adds

206 Flower and Marincola (2002: 110) observe that evidence from Xenophon’s Hellenica 4.5.11 shows that only the presence of the Spartans living at Amyclae, the village where the festival was celebrated, was required during the Hyacinthia. Cf. the similar attitude of the Spartans at the battles of Marathon and Thermopylae: they cannot send an army to Marathon until the moon is full (6.106.3) and so they arrive too late (6.120), while the festival of the Carneia prevents them from sending a full army to Thermopylae (7.206). 207 Cf. the verbal echoes: τοῦτο δὲ ἄλλην πρὸς ταύτῃ ἑλέσθων αὐτοί, ἥντινα ἂν ἐθέλωσι, . . . (8.140α.2)—ἐθέλει δὲ καὶ ἄλλην χώρην πρὸς τῇ ἡμετέρῃ διδόναι, τὴν ἂν αὐτοὶ ἑλώμεθα (9.7α.1); ἔστε ἐλεύθεροι, ἡμῖν ὁμαιχμίην συνθέμενοι ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης (8.140α.4)— τοῦτο δὲ συμμάχους ἐθέλει ἐπ’ ἴσῃ τε καὶ ὁμοίῃ ποιήσασθαι ἄνευ τε δόλου καὶ ἀπάτης (9.7α.1). Macan (1908b: 603) considers the repetition of the words from 8.140 “very tell-tale and inconsequent”. Alliance Speeches 229 a new touch: the Athenians are well aware that a confederation with the Persians would be more to their advantage (κερδαλεώτερον); nevertheless, they will never willingly come to terms with the enemy (οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ ὁμολογήσομεν ἑκόντες εἶναι) (9.7α.2). The agreement with the barbarians appears now to be a non-desirable, but forced last choice, if the Spartans do not help them. The phrase “if they got no help from Sparta, they would have to find some means of helping themselves” in the immediately foregoing narrative (9.6),208 already hints at this line of argument. It thus stresses the urgency of the circumstances and introduces the messengers’ speech as threat-like.209 The representatives go on to put the Spartans under additional pressure. They accuse them of indifference: the Spartans now feel reassured when they have nearly completed the wall on the Isthmus and they also know that the Athenians will never betray Greece (ὅτι οὐδαμὰ προδώσομεν τὴν Ἑλλάδα)— after their fervent speeches at 8.143–4. Consequently, they do not care about the Athenians and allowed the barbarians to invade their country (9.7β.1).210 To make up for the missed chance to meet the Persians in Boeotia, the messengers ask the Spartans to send an army to engage the enemy at the Thriasian plain (9.7β.2). As the Athenians see it, their behaviour is completely justified since the present inactivity of the Spartans is motivated by cold pragmatism. A serious disparity lurks, nonetheless, behind this allegedly ‘inconsistent’ Spartan behaviour, because the Spartans never promised to send reinforcements to the Athenians. They mention nothing about this in their speech at 8.142—they promise only to “provide support for all the women and other non-combatant members of their households, for as long as the war lasts”—and leave Athens without replying at all. That the Athenians interpret the tacit departure of the Spartan messengers as an agreement to aid them is a possibility. However, the skilful construction of this piece of rhetoric and the constant allusions to a supposedly ‘broken promise’211 of the Spartans strike us more as a means to accomplish rhetorical effectiveness.

208 εἰ μὴ ἀμυνεῦσι Ἀθηναίοισι, ὡς καὶ αὐτοί τινα ἀλεωρὴν εὑρήσονται. 209 Cf. also Flower and Marincola 2002: 109. Note also the use of the subjective conjunction ὡς in the phrase εἰ μὴ ἀμυνεῦσι Ἀθηναίοισι, ὡς καὶ αὐτοί τινα ἀλεωρὴν εὑρήσονται which might imply trickery on the part of the Athenians. 210 That the Athenian focalization here coincides with Herodotus’ at 9.8.2 might, but does not necessarily have to, reveal Athenian sources. 211 Mark also the clever use of the word προδίδωμι twice in different context: the Athenians will never betray Greece (9.7β.1: οὐδαμὰ προδώσομεν τὴν Ἑλλάδα), whereas the Spartans betrayed the Athenians by allowing the Persians to invade Attica (9.7β.1: συνθέμενοί τε ἡμῖν [τὸν Πέρσην] ἀντιώσεσθαι ἐς τὴν Βοιωτίην προδεδώκατε). 230 CHAPTER 3

But the calculated words of the messengers bear no fruit and the Spartans delay their reply for ten whole days. Unsurprisingly, expediency is once again the reason which prompts the Spartans to aid the Athenians at length: the Tegean Chileus points out to them that, as the messengers implied (9.7α.2), if Athens is not allied with Sparta but with Persia instead (Ἀθηναίων ἡμῖν ἐόντων μὴ ἀρθμίων, τῷ δὲ βαρβάρῳ συμμάχων), Sparta will be in grave danger and the wall will be useless (9.9.2).212 Greek unity and concern for the fate of Greece make an appearance in Chileus’ speech (ἀλλ᾽ ἐσακούσατε, πρίν τι ἄλλο Ἀθηναίοισι δόξαι σφάλμα φέρον τῇ Ἑλλάδι), but the argument that carries more weight is that the wall across the Isthmus will not protect the Spartans.213 Although they take Chileus’ speech into account and dispatch troops immediately, the famously laconic Spartans give no response to the heralds (9.10.1, 11.1). Faced with silence and idleness, the heralds make their point in a succinct and overtly threatening speech (9.11.1–2). Using forceful language214 they show disdain for the Spartans, who are presented now as ‘having utterly betrayed’ the Athenians (καταπροδόντες);215 they can keep enjoying their Hyacinthia. Confronted with the injustice of the Spartans and left without allies,216 the Athenians will benefit as much as they can from an agreement with the Persians, be their allies (9.11.2: δῆλα γὰρ ὅτι σύμμαχοι βασιλέος γινόμεθα)217 and follow them in their expeditions. They clearly imply that they will even

212 On Sparta’s underhand motivation in these chapters, see Baragwanath 2008: 231–4. 213 Chileus’ advice functions as a flashback to the authorial commentary at 7.139. Herodotus there opines that, had the Athenians compromised with the Persians, the Isthmus wall would have been useless; and that the Athenian fleet added to the Persian would bring about the destruction of Greece, for whichever side the Athenians joined was sure to prevail (cf. also Artemisia’s advice at 8.68β). The convergence between Chileus’ advice and the authorial viewpoint suggests to Flower and Marincola (2002: 115) the use of the motif of ‘wise adviser’, who expresses and supports Herodotus’ personal viewpoint. Lattimore (1939: 24–35) also includes Chileus in his list of ‘practical advisers’. 214 See Hdt. 9.11.2: ὑμεῖς δὲ τὸ ἐντεῦθεν μαθήσεσθε ὁκοῖον ἄν τι ὑμῖν ἐξ αὐτοῦ ἐκβαίνῃ. 215 This is more powerful than what we have in the previous speech of the heralds: there it was the Greeks in general who ‘utterly betrayed’ the Athenians (9.7α.2: καταπροδιδόμενοι), whereas the Spartans simply ‘betrayed’ them (9.7β.1: προδεδώκατε). 216 See Hdt. 9.11.1: χήτεΐ τε συμμάχων ‘due to lack of allies’. See the subtle comment on the Homeric connotations of χήτεΐ by Flower and Marincola (2002: 120): “The Homeric echo [i.e. Il. 6.463] suggests that just as Andromache could not maintain her freedom without Hector, so too without Spartan assistance the Athenians could not hope to resist the Persians”. 217 Note the use of δῆλα ὅτι with the indicative γινόμεθα to increase the truth of the statement. Alliance Speeches 231 have to turn against Greeks. The Spartans are thus compelled to give out the information that their army is already on the march against the barbarians, taking oaths in order to make the Athenians believe them (9.11.2). The messengers achieve their purpose using first covert and then overt threats. Taking into account the rhetorical competence of the Athenians, superbly represented by Themistocles in the Salamis account, as well as the pressing circumstances, Athenian medism could be a diplomatic ploy.218 The threat of abandoning the common cause may be read as a replay of Themis- tocles’ threat that if Salamis is not chosen as the site of battle the Athenians will migrate to Siris in Italy (8.62.2). Still, the ease with which the messengers proclaim the Athenians will side with the Persians and their determination to support barbarian enterprises, also to take their revenge on the injustice done to them by the Greeks, challenge the merely rhetorical nature of the threats. Reading the speeches contextually will shed some light on the matter. After the Athenians’ resolute refusal to come to terms with the Persians and after stoning Lycides and his family to death merely for suggesting they discuss Mardonius’ proposals at the assembly (9.5), the representatives’ formal statement of Athenian medism seems to be part of their strategy to overcome Spartan inactivity. Besides this, had the Athenians decided to come to terms with the Persians, they would not waste their time begging the Spartans. Moreover, the information that the Spartan army was already on the march would not make them change their mind all that easily. The frequent mention of a potential alliance with the Persians in the narrative context and its gradual introduction in the game of rhetoric decrease the credibility of the argument, rather than increasing it, and present the alliance as the argument with the greatest impact. On the other hand, we have seen in the previous sections dealing with Aristagoras’ revolt rhetoric and Alexander’s mission219 that there is a frequent intertwining of fine and ignoble argumentation to strike the right chord in the audience, and this reflects equally complex incentives. Self-interest has proved instrumental in instigating Athenian action, hence a hint of opportunism

218 Cf. Pelling 2006c: 112–14; Baragwanath 2008: 235–6; Flower and Marincola (2002: 110): “The Athenians’ words here read oddly after their noble sentiments at 8.144, but they make the arguments that are necessary to show the Spartans how dire the situation is”. Pace Munson (1988: 101 and n. 31) who considers the speeches earnest declarations and sees a change in the Athenian attitude from the panhellenism/idealism of 8.144 to cold pragmatism—but things are much more complex. 219 And also in ch. 2. 232 CHAPTER 3 in their speeches to the Spartans under consideration is not unlikely.220 An alliance with the Persians in particular is made plausible by the narrative of book 5. In his digression on the Athenian affairs before the outbreak of the Ionian revolt, Herodotus recounts that the Athenians sought to make an alliance with the Persians against Cleomenes and their ambassadors agreed on giving the tokens of submission, earth and water (5.73). Readers are led to consider the possibility that the Athenians may not be merely joking when contemplating a treaty with Persia, especially since they are under considerable and imminent pressure and also given that several other Greek cities had taken the side of the Persians. When he discusses alternative courses of events, even Herodotus himself admits that in the face of necessity and motivated either by fear or by lack of allies, the Spartans and Athenians would have been equally likely to submit to Persia (7.139). Chileus may not be misreading Athenian rhetoric completely, as Pelling has it.221 There are plenty of hints in these chapters of a practical attitude which in turn encourage intratextual readings and point extratextually to contemporary broken allegiances at a time of internal conflict.222 But the Athenian desire to obtain Spartan cooperation and their struggle to secure unity by whatever means is also manifest. Chileus’ speech effectively expresses interweaving strands of motivation in a compact manner: “if the Athenians back the Persians, not only will you not feel secure with the wall but also Greece will suffer”.223 Perhaps Chileus, by articulating the Spartan reliance on the wall, helps the Spartans to understand how real the Athenian threat to medize could be: since the Spartans themselves are clearly acting in a self-interested manner, in a context where other Greeks are being destroyed, is it not possible that the Athenians might well do something similar? And since all sides are tempted by offers of support from the Persians and several cities give in to the invaders, this could make the Athenian threat more credible to the Spartans.

220 Cf. Comparini (1971: 145): “The fact that they [i.e. the Athenians] do threaten desertion at times, however, indicates that their loyalty is not absolute but tempered by practical considerations”. 221 Pelling (2006c: 114): “it is eventually Chileos’ misreading of rhetoric, the failure to identify a rhetorical ploy which the more straightforward ephors find persuasive, which gets the Spartans to do the right thing”. 222 On irony with respect to the contemporary historical context in 9.6–11, see Fornara 1971a: 86. Pace Macan (1908b: 593) who argues that Herodotus “appears quite unconscious of the satire he thus levels against Athens”. 223 Cf. also Hohti (1976: 72), who suggests Chileus’ utterance provides the solution to the critical situation as it guarantees unity and thus anticipates Greek victory. Alliance Speeches 233

A masterstroke of diplomatic trickery, albeit not free from ambiguity given the complexity of Athenian motivation in the Histories, the speeches successfully flesh out the depiction of the Athenians and, to a lesser extent, the Spartans, rather than standing in opposition to chapters 8.140–4.224

3.4 Persian Alliances: An Overview

So far we have focused on Greeks asking for the alliance of other Greeks, but we also worked into our discussion cases when Persians employ vocabulary similar to that of Greek alliance speeches (Mardonius) or use representatives who are related to the Greeks (Alexander). In this section I briefly consider Persian alliances, bringing together observations made in the course of this chapter with an eye to finding both divergences from and overlap with Greek alliance rhetoric. The Persian political system and imperialistic philosophy affect the nature of their alliances. The traditional act for setting up an alliance with the Persians in Herodotus is giving ‘earth and water’ (γῆν τε καὶ ὕδωρ).225 The demand for earth and water signifies total and unconditional subordination to the Persians and recognition of their authority. The Persians have no allies as such but subjects instead. Since they command a great number of nations, they have at their disposal both countless soldiers and immense resources. The acquisition of Greek ‘allies’ also facilitates their expedition by saving them the fight and providing them with supplies in their march through Greece (e.g. the submission of Macedonia). There are no long speeches negotiating friendly status or pointing out the benefits for a potential ally of the Persians until after the battle of Salamis. Up to that point, the Persians demand submission and force people to follow them. Some people are less willing than others to accept such an arrangement and the manner in which they react often brings to the fore the difference between their free nature and the slavish Persian nature. This is the case with the Athenians and Spartans who kill Darius’ envoys who have come to request earth and water; and this explains why Xerxes does not send any heralds for the same purpose to either Athens or Sparta (7.133.1). Book 4 affords

224 Pace Solmsen (1944: 247–8): although she rightly notes that passages 9.7–11 complement passages 8.140–4, she interprets the function of 9.7–11 rather unilaterally as merely stressing the paramount importance of Athens’ behaviour. 225 See e.g. Hdt. 5.73; 6.48–9, 94; 7.32, 131, 133, 233. Kuhrt 1988 provides a useful discussion of the term. 234 CHAPTER 3 another example which defines the indomitable character of people devoted to freedom even more clearly. Darius invites Idanthyrsus the king of Scythia to give him earth and water but the latter categorically declines: “the only masters I recognize are Zeus, who is my ancestor, and Hestia, the queen of the Scythians” (4.126–7). Persian absolutism leads Darius to mistakenly think that the Scythian gifts he receives a little later in the narrative actually represent an offer of earth and water and indicate surrender, but the wise Gobryas is able to see that they signify the exact opposite (4.131–2). One of the most powerful scenes that outlines the contrast between freedom and slavery most vividly is the encounter between the Spartans Sperthias and Bulis and the Persian Hydarnes. In this more personal request for submission, Hydarnes inquires of the Spartans why they refuse to become friends with the Great King (τί δὴ φεύγετε βασιλέϊ φίλοι γενέσθαι;) and invites them to witness with their own eyes how Xerxes honours worthy men by looking at Hydarnes himself and his condition. If they yield to the king, he will make them rulers of Greek lands, Hydarnes says. But the Spartans are not lured by the material benefits. If Hydarnes had any knowledge of freedom, he would never make this proposition but would urge them to fight for freedom not just with spears but with axes as well (εἰ γὰρ αὐτῆς πειρήσαιο, οὐκ ἂν δόρασι συμβουλεύοις ἡμῖν περὶ αὐτῆς μάχεσθαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ πελέκεσι) (7.135). Besides material inducements, manipulation is also put into practice by the Persians to secure an ‘alliance’. In an attempt to bring Ethiopia under his power, Cambyses sends heralds bearing luxurious gifts and asks to be the Ethiopians’ guest-friend and ally (3.21.1: φίλος καὶ ξεῖνoς). The Ethiopian king sees through the deceptive request and realizes that the messengers are really spies and that Cambyses wants to add Ethiopia to his territories. So Cambyses’ plan falls through (3.20–1) and he decides to attack Ethiopia instead (3.25). On the Persian side trickery is identified with Mardonius, who marshals an array of practical benefits and other arguments that are substantially similar to typical alliance arguments to persuade Xerxes to attack Greece. As discussed above, the manipulative nature of his rhetoric recalls that of Aristagoras. Another relevant Persian ploy occurs in 6.9, where the Persian commanders order the exiled Ionian tyrants to transmit to their Ionian fellow-citizens the message that, if they do not give up the fighting, they will suffer gravely. If the Ionians desert their allies, the Persians will spare their houses and temples, and will not punish them nor treat them more harshly than before. Interestingly, not only do the Persians try to instil fear in the Ionians, but their message is also instigated by their own fear of the unexpected size of the Ionian fleet and therefore of their potential failure to deliver Miletus to Darius. Alliance Speeches 235

This fear of failure becomes more menacing for the Persians in the context of the Persian Wars and specifically after Salamis. The sweeping naval victory of the Greeks, championed by the Athenian fleet, makes the Persians lose heart especially over sea domination. The Persian fleet is lost, Xerxes is terrified and departs for Asia (8.103). Mardonius stays and becomes in charge of the Persian force. Carefully processing what happened at Salamis, Mardonius realizes (or the oracles point out) that to secure advantage at sea—he already has it over land—he needs the support of the Athenians (8.136). This is a remarkable change in Persian alliance policy dictated by necessity (or by the divine in the face of necessity), which shows that the Persians can be quite flexible in their strategies, when the circumstances change. Given Mardonius’ rhetorical merit and mastery in deception,226 it comes as no surprise that he carefully, and wisely, chooses Alexander of Macedon as his mediator. Alexander’s frustrated attempt is followed by another attempt, this time by the Hellespontine Murychides whom Mardonius also sends to the Athenians. Both despondency and renewed hope on account of the destruction of Attica stimulate Mardonius’ action (9.4.2). Murychides unsuccessfully reiterates Alexander’s proposal and leaves unscathed, but an Athenian who dares to propose consideration of the Persian offer is killed together with his family in the hands of the Athenians (9.5). The Persians, then, resort to diplomacy when required and they can manipulate rhetoric effectively. That they cannot always manipulate rhetoric produc- tively is down to Greek obstinacy and love of freedom or more selfish motives that have to do with local pride (’we will not be the ones to betray Greece’). It seems appropriate to close this section with a reference to the alleged alliance speech by Xerxes’ messenger to the Argives (7.150). Xerxes requests the neu- trality of the Argives in his war with the Greeks because Persians and Argives share the same ancestry, so it would not be right for them to fight against each other. If the Argives comply, the king will hold them in very high regard. The barbarian Xerxes toys here with notions of kinship and reciprocity, extremely familiar to the Greeks. Nor is the Persian attitude towards myth very different from the Greek. At 6.54 we are told that the Persians maintain that the Argives were really of Egyptian descent. The Persians, like the Greeks, evidently use a certain myth at one time, subvert or reject it at other times and reuse it when convenient.227 Along similar lines, it is noteworthy that Xerxes here employs the kinship argument that he himself disregards when, at Abydos, Artabanus

226 See above, pp. 151–6, 201–2. 227 Cf. Vandiver 1991: 52; Buxton 1994: 196. 236 CHAPTER 3 warns him about the danger of leading the Ionians against their Greek kinsmen (7.51.2–3). Xerxes also plays on Argive (or should we say ‘Greek’?) vanity and concepts of singularity and inter-Greek contest. The fact that the Argives were the only Greeks to be associated with bonds of kinship with the powerful Persians was much more than complimentary. With the Persians on their side, the Argives could envisage that they would be able to neutralize Spartan power in the Peloponnese.228

Derived from traditional material and influencing later literature, Herodotean alliance speeches deploy and redeploy generic material which is accommo- dated to different contexts and audiences. A common underlying principle, whether we are dealing with Greeks or Persians, is a more or less direct intention to protect one’s own interests aided by the use of misleading rhetoric. Custom-made arguments and specific language choices, charged with ironies and obscurity, cloak regional and personal interests that endanger Greek collectivity. As the similarities in the performance of deceit by both Aristagoras and Mardonius render the stereotypes unstable, the Greek coalition becomes rather shaky too while characters overplay or misplay their hands, and misjudge audiences and situations. Alliance is desirable, but ends up being ephemeral and as elusive as the speeches that try to achieve it. The next and final chapter treats another type of speech: those delivered before battle. Even when so close to a military engagement, as mottos such as freedom and unity are appropriate, the Greeks seem unable to get over friction. The interweaving of epideictic motifs showcases further dividing tendencies. Rhetorical manipulation and cherishing of private aspirations distinguish Greek pre-battle speeches. Persian pre-battle speeches are strikingly dissimilar but also intriguingly alike and often conform better to the Greek value system.

228 See also the interesting comment by Georges (1994: 70) that adds an extra dimension of rhetorical adaptation: “The Ionian envoy of Xerxes knew his audience. At this time Argos had given to the world the mythographer Acusilaus, who is the only Argive author known to us before the Hellenistic period; his work, accordingly, must represent the character of high culture in late archaic Argos, which obviously harboured a strong self-interest in its own and other people’s origins and descent”. CHAPTER 4 Pre-Battle Speeches

The pre-battle speech comes under the spotlight in this chapter as we look into yet another way in which Herodotus pursues the themes of Greek disunity and the Greco-barbarian polarity. In any discussion of pre-battle speeches in historiography, Thucydides is, predictably, the first author to spring to mind. The general consensus among scholars is that speeches of this kind (also known as exhortations, harangues, Feldherrnreden, παραινετικοὶ λόγοι, παραινέσεις and cohortationes) are fully developed in Thucydides’ History both in form and content, and remain largely unchanged in later historians—and rightly so. However, Thucydides’ speeches represent the culmination of a long process that started with the Homeric epics and continued in elegy, tragedy and, on the historiographical side, Herodotus. It is the purpose of this chapter to investigate pre-battle speeches in Herodotus, a subject that has been significantly under-explored. The category of pre-battle speeches, strictly speaking, includes utterances by generals to their troops to raise their morale before a combat and to spur them on to noble deeds. Given that Herodotean speeches present us with extraordinary diversity and versatility, tagging some of them as exhortations is a thorny process. It requires that we adapt our criteria and allow for considerable flexibility in terms of form, circumstances of deliverance and audience. Still, it is worth taking up the challenge to examine such speeches because they not only represent an important step in the development of the genre via Herodotus through to Thucydides, but they further testify to the supple and intricate nature of Herodotean rhetoric. My intention is therefore not to claim that such speeches, as normally understood from Thucydides onwards, are to be found already in a developed form in Herodotus, but rather to trace in Herodotus some of the topoi as well as the combination of diverse oratorical strands that recur in Thucydides’ ‘proper’ pre-battle speeches. Exhortation is mapped out differently but also often similarly in Greece and Persia. Attempts to encourage the Greeks, if considered with close attention paid to their context, end up drawing divisive lines between them as self- interest towers above the common good. The weakness of the Greek alliance is supported by the generic fluidity of exhortations and especially the use of elements from epideictic oratory. All these render the style of Herodotean harangue highly distinctive. Herodotean harangue stands out as the product of the redeployment and expansion of traditional and contemporary material in

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��5 | doi ��.��63/9789004283589_006 238 CHAPTER 4 ways that serve the authorial purposes and establish Herodotus as a strong link in the evolution of exhortation before it takes its polished shape in Thucydides. This chapter opens up with a discussion of modern and ancient approaches to the genre of pre-battle exhortation (4.1). It then turns to a review of the evidence of exhortation and exhortatory motifs in prior and contemporary literature and rhetoric (4.2). The next section provides a definition and listing of Herodotean harangues, and discusses aspects of terminology and form (4.3). Two sub-sections tackle the traditional material involved in exhortations (4.3.1) and the mingling of deliberative and epideictic elements (4.3.2). Case studies survey the function of exhortations in terms of the Greco-Persian polarity and Greek unity (4.4). And lastly we look at the way Herodotus maps out pre-battle speeches in his narrative (4.5).

4.1 The Genre of Pre-Battle Exhortation

The existence of pre-battle exhortations as a rhetorical genre was, and still is, a contested issue. Given the nature of battle, it is only plausible that similar topoi will be used in similar circumstances while practical difficulties, such as being heard by a sizeable army and the time pressure in view of an imminent battle, should also be factored in. Already in antiquity, both Polybius and Plutarch recognized such speeches as literary conventions.1 In modern times, the contro- versy over whether exhortation constitutes a separate genre has been fuelled particularly by Hansen’s2 thesis that all exhortation speeches in historiography from ancient to medieval and early modern periods are fictitious. Real exhortations were confined in “a few encouraging apophthegms that, with variations, could be shouted to the soldiers as he [i.e. the general] walked along the front line of the phalanx”,3 and Thucydides invented the literary genre of battlefield

1 See Polyb. 12.25.7–9, 26a (commenting on Timoleon’s exhortation in Timaeus); Plut. Precepts of Statecraft 803b: ἐπὶ δὲ τῶν Ἐφόρου καὶ Θεοπόμπου καὶ Ἀναξιμένους ῥητορειῶν καὶ περιόδων, ἃς περαίνουσιν ἐξοπλίσαντες τὰ στρατεύματα καὶ παρατάξαντες, ἔστιν εἰπεῖν οὐδεὶς σιδήρου ταῦτα μωραίνει πέλας “But as for the rhetorical efforts and grand periods of Ephorus, Theopompus, and Anaximenes, which they deliver after they have armed and drawn up the armies, it can be said of them, ‘None talks so foolishly when near the steel’ ”. 2 See Hansen 1993; 2001. 3 See Hansen 1993: 169; note also p. 171: “A brief exhortation of the troops, unit by unit, while the commander walked along the front is probably all the historical reality we may expect to find behind the fully-fledged speeches reported by the historians”. Pre-battle Speeches 239 exhortation. The evidence Hansen uses to back up his theory is the supposed lack of any treatment of this type of speech in the rhetorical handbooks.4 On the other side of the debate are those scholars who support the historical nature of exhortation and suggest that it is an actual rhetorical genre rather than a few popular phrases. Pritchett5 offers evidence from Greco-Roman oratory and historiography which proves that exhortations were normal military practice. Ehrhardt6 furnishes another two examples from Roman history, Plutarch Ti. Gracch. 9.57 and, especially, Caesar B Gall. 2.20.1–2. Hornblower8 points to a passage from Thucydides’ description of the battle at Mantineia (5.69). There Thucydides, after giving the pre-battle exhortations of the Mantinean, Argive and Athenian generals (5.69.1), reports that the Spartans sang war-songs to encourage each other and “calling on their comrades, as brave men, to remember what each knew so well, realizing that the long discipline of action is a more effective safeguard than hurried speeches, however well they may be delivered” (5.69.2). The example is a strong indication that exhortation speeches were an established real-life rhetorical genre. There are many more instances, including a striking passage in Polybius, where the historian, distinguishing between several types of historiographical speeches, mentions exhortation to troops (παρακλήσεις) as one of them (12.25a.3).9 Beyond the modern scholarly debate, one must look at what the available rhetorical handbooks say about exhortation speeches or whether they discuss them at all. The earliest rhetorical treatises, Aristotle’s Rhetoric and the Rhetoric to Alexander, do not contain any specific reference to pre-battle speeches; nor do they classify them under any of the rhetorical categories they distinguish. The same applies to the epideictic categories of pseudo-Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Menander Rhetor. Still we do find some brief and rather cursory references. When Aristotle discusses maxims and proverbs in his Rhetoric, he mentions as an example the use of proverbs by a general who exhorts (παρακαλοῦντι) his soldiers before battle (Rh. 1395a10–18). The first of these proverbs cited by Aristotle is significantly a most famous Homeric line spoken by Hector: εἷς οἰωνὸς ἄριστος ἀμύνεσθαι περὶ

4 See Hansen 1993: 164–6; 2001: 96. On the fictive nature of exhortations in the historians, see also Fornara 1983: 162; cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 134; Marincola 2007a: 128. 5 See Pritchett 1994: 27–109; cf. Pritchett 2002: 1–80. 6 See Ehrhardt 1995. 7 Ehrhardt acknowledges that the validity of this passage is slightly minimised by Plutarch’s general lack of interest in all things military and his rhetorical orientation. 8 See Hornblower 1996: 82–3; cf. Hornblower 2007b: 39–40. 9 On the historical nature of battle exhortation, see also Clark 1995; cf. Anson 2010: 318. 240 CHAPTER 4

πάτρης (Rh. 1395a14 = Il. 12.243). Though not referring specifically to the genre of exhortation, Aristotle also regards exhortation as one of the purposes of deliberative oratory (Rh. 1358b8–9: συμβουλῆς δὲ τὸ μὲν προτροπὴ τὸ δὲ ἀποτροπή). The author of the Rhetoric to Alexander considers προτρεπτικόν εἶδος one of the seven types of public speeches (Rh. Al. 1421b9), but the term is used in an abstract manner and therefore does not allow any direct links to pre-battle speeches. The closest reference to pre-battle exhortations in rhetoric is in the handbook of epideictic rhetoric found in the first seven chapters of pseudo- Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ Art of Rhetoric (255–92 Usener/Radermacher). The last chapter is a προτρεπτικὸς ἀθληταῖς (283.20–292 Usener/Radermacher), where pseudo-Dionysius gives recommendations for exhortation to athletes and compares this with exhortation to soldiers (285.5–8, 286.5–9 Usener/ Radermacher), while the topics he refers to next are very similar to those in generals’ speeches, including mention of the ancestors and past accomplish- ments (290.5–292 Usener/Radermacher). Lesbonax of Mytilene composed two hortatory speeches of generals under the title προτρεπτικός.10 These speeches demonstrate basic similarities with the third surviving speech of Lesbonax, a political speech (πολιτικός λόγος), a fact that points to the combination of deliberative and exhortative elements in composing deliberative declama- tions (suasoriae). Theon, when talking about prosopopoeia11 in his epideictic Progymnasmata, lists as an example a general’s speech to the soldiers just before the battle (115.12–16 Spengel). Finally, in his epideictic Progymnasmata, Hermogenes mentions a general encouraging his soldiers after their victory as an indicative case of ethopoieia (15.24–8 Spengel).12 It becomes clear from this brief overview that rhetoric deals with pre-battle exhortations in one way or another, and that these were considered a real-life genre. Yet the difficulty of placing this kind of speech in any one category and of dealing with it as a proper rhetorical genre reflects the complex nature of exhortation. Complexity and adaptability are also attested by the variety of words that different literary genres use to describe exhortations. Pseudo- Dionysius and Lesbonax label it as προτρεπτικὸς λόγος; Onasander uses the phrase λόγου παρακέλευσις (Strategikos 1.13); Polybius calls it παράκλησις (12.25a.3); Plato employs the verb παραινῶ (Ion 540d: παραινοῦντι); Herodotus (8.15.2) and Xenophon (Cyr. 3.3.43) make use of the verb παρακελεύομαι. It seems that in Thucydides the words παραινῶ and παρακελεύομαι, as well as

10 See Kiehr 1907. 11 The introduction of a character who delivers speeches suitable to himself and the circumstances. 12 On pre-battle speeches in ancient rhetoric, see Burgess 1902: 209–11, 229–34; Pritchett 1994: 35–41; Iglesias-Zoido 2007 (on imperial-age rhetoric in particular). Pre-battle Speeches 241 their respective derivative nouns παραίνεσις and παρακέλευσις, become technical terms for the pre-battle speech. The historian always demarcates a pre- battle speech from its context by using one of these words13 and often repeats the same words (or different forms of these words) at the end of the speech in the form of ring-composition.14 For this reason it is easier to identify some speeches as harangues in Thucydides, but the use of these words is not an infallible criterion for such identification. Given that παραινῶ, παρακελεύομαι and their derivative nouns do not always introduce or conclude speeches of this kind, the context plays the most important role in flagging exhortations.15 The nature of hortatory motifs16 brings this kind of rhetoric closer to the epideictic genre, but it presents affinities with the deliberative genre too.17 The combination of deliberative and epideictic elements in exhortation is already evident in Herodotus, as we shall see in the course of this chapter. Exhortations, then, are very close to Isocrates’ view that epideictic oratory includes symbouleutic oratory.18 This is demonstrated in particular by his Panegyricus and Panathenaicus, two speeches of the symbouleutic kind which encompass encomiastic material, and also by his Busiris, itself a mixture of the deliberative, epideictic and forensic genres. The most striking example of such a match in historiography is Pericles’ funeral oration in Thucydides (2.35–46), which blends in a balanced form the laudation of Athens (epideictic speech) with the encouragement to fight for the city by imitating the deeds of the dead (exhortation).

13 E.g. Thuc. 2.10.3: παρῄνει; 7.70.7: παρακέλευσις. 14 E.g. Thuc. 2.86.6—2.88.1: παρεκελεύσαντο; 4.9.4: παρεκελεύσατο—4.11.1: παρακελευσαμένου; 5.69.1: παραινέσεις—5.69.2: παρῃνέθη; 7.60.5: παρεκελεύσατο—7.65.1: παρακελευσάμενος. 15 For more details on the terminology παραίνεσις, προτρεπτικὸς λόγος and παρακέλευσις, see Burgess 1902: 229 n. 2; cf. also Iglesias-Zoido 2007: 152–3. 16 On exhortation topoi in the historians, see Burgess 1902: 212–13 (based on selected speeches); Albertus 1908: 37–93; Pritchett 1994: 102–5 (Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Polybius). 17 For a detailed discussion of the mixing of diverse strands of rhetorical argument in exhortation, from Thucydides to the imperial-age rhetoricians, see Iglesias-Zoido 2007. Burgess discusses the close relation of epideictic to deliberative oratory (1902: 91–103) and considers battle exhortation part of epideictic literature (1902: 209–14). Kennedy (1983: 19–20; 1997b: 49) classifies exhortation under the deliberative species. 18 Cf. Aristotle’s definition of symbouleutic oratory: his definition may not be sufficiently wide, but the philosopher nevertheless recognizes affinities between the epideictic and the deliberative genres (see Arist. Rh. 1367b37–68a1: “praise and counsels have a common aspect; for what you might suggest in counselling becomes encomium by a change in the phrase”). 242 CHAPTER 4

4.2 Exhortation and Exhortatory Motifs in Literature and Rhetoric

The first literary instances of exhortation are to be found, naturally, in Homer, and in the Iliad in particular.19 Fenik has shown the importance of exhortation speeches in the Iliad, where they already appear as an integral and formulaic part of the battle scene.20 Keitel,21 while rightly making allowances for the similarity of circumstances, has suggested that the arguments, forms and functions of Homeric exhortation have exercised considerable influence on ancient historians. More specifically, she argues that most of the typical harangue themes that occur in Homer, such as expediency, justice, the possibility and ease of victory, honour, devotion, the customs of the ancestors, necessity and bravery, later become standard components of an exhortation speech. In addition to this, the form—paired speeches by opposing generals; epipolesis, a general’s speech to different army groups or different individuals in charge while reviewing the troops, and its variants; generalized exhortations—as well as the function—accumulation of speeches to emphasize the importance of the moment and increase dramatic effect; describing tactical plans—of the Homeric harangue, have a more direct impact on the shaping of exhortation in the historians. The link between Homer and exhortation was so strong and popular in antiquity that Plato makes Ion, in the eponymous dialogue, say that his knowledge of Homer is sufficient to make him a good general, since he has been taught from the epics to speak the right words of encouragement to his troops (Ion 540d–541b3). Even though this is, obviously, a misunderstanding by Ion, the passage still acknowledges haranguing the soldiers as an important part of a general’s task.22

19 E.g. Il. 2.110–41, 284–333; 4.231–421; 8.228–44; 13.47–59; 16.198–209. Pritchett (1994: 96–7) lists some indicative examples. Cf. also Pritchett (2002: 25–6) quoting on p. 25 Woodman and Martin (1996: 346): “Military hortationes were from the earliest times common in epic (nearly 50 exs. in the Iliad acc. to A. Fingerle, Typik der homerischen Reden (unpubl. Diss. Munich, 1939) 82–108)”. 20 See Fenik 1968. 21 See Keitel 1987 (focusing mainly on Herodotus, Thucydides and Livy). 22 Cf. Quintilian’s laudation of the eloquence of Homeric exhortations among other types of speeches in Inst. 10.1.47: nam ut de laudibus, exhortationibus, consolationibus taceam, nonne vel nonus liber, quo missa ad Achillem legatio continetur, vel in primo inter duces illa contentio vel dictae in secundo sententiae omnes litium ac consiliorum explicant artes? “For, to say nothing of his praises, exhortations and consolations, do not the ninth book containing the embassy to Achilles, the first describing the quarrel between the chiefs, or the speeches delivered by the counsellors in the second, exhibit all the rules of art of forensic and deliberative rhetoric?” Pre-battle Speeches 243

Martial hortatory elegy is another antecedent of pre-battle speeches.23 This sub-genre of elegy24 flourished in the seventh century b.c. and is chiefly represented by Tyrtaeus (10–12 w) and Callinus (1 w). Other poets who also composed such elegies include Mimnermus (14 w),25 Solon (1–3 w) and, as some recently published fragments have surprisingly shown, Archilochus (7a–b W).26 Horace in his Art of Poetry recognizes the boosting of the soldiers’ morale before the battle as the main purpose of elegy, and highlights the close relationship between Tyrtaeus’ poetry in particular and that of Homer: “after these, excellent Homer and Tyrtaeus animated the manly mind to martial achievements with their verses” (Ars P. 401–2).27 Tragedy often uses exhortations in the long battle descriptions embedded in messengers’ speeches or in the lyrical parts sung by the chorus.28 The most celebrated example is the Greek cries of encouragement in the battle of Salamis in Aeschylus’ Persians: δεύτερον δ’ ὁ πᾶς στόλος/ ἐπεξεχώρει, καὶ παρῆν ὁμοῦ κλύειν/ πολλὴν βοήν· ‘ὦ παῖδες Ἑλλήνων ἴτε,/ ἐλευθεροῦτε πατρίδ’, ἐλευθεροῦτε δὲ/ παῖδας, γυναῖκας, θεῶν τε πατρῴων ἕδη,/ θήκας τε προγόνων· νῦν ὑπὲρ πάντων ἀγών’ (Pers. 400–5).29 Euripides also provides quite a few relevant examples.30 In all of these instances from tragedy, the exhortation is recorded in direct discourse as it aims to increase the tension and anxiety, hence implicating both the internal and external audience in a bathetic situation.31

23 On exhortation elegy and Homer, see Latacz 1977; cf. also Irwin 2005: 22–9 (with much relevant bibliography), 35–62. 24 On the generic and performative features (sympotic context) of martial exhortation elegy, see Bowie 1986 (on the generic aspect see esp. pp. 15–16); 1990; Irwin 2005: 30–3. Pace West (1974: 10–13), who argues for several performative contexts. 25 See Cook 1958–59: 28; West 1974: 74. 26 The old image of a coward Archilochus who leaves his shield in the battlefield to save himself (5 W) is thus deconstructed. On the new Archilochus, see Peek 1985; West 1985: 9–10. 27 post hos insignis Homerus/ Tyrtaeusque mares animos in Martia bella/ versibus exacuit. 28 On exhortation in tragedy, see de Romilly 1956: 116–23; cf. a few examples listed in Burgess 1902: 211. 29 “next their whole army pressed on against us, and at the same time a loud shout met our ears: ‘On, you men of Greece! Free your native land. Free your children, your wives, the temples of your fathers’ gods, and the tombs of your ancestors. Now you are fighting for all you have’ ”. Cf. Aesch. Sept. 1–3, 10–16. 30 E.g. Eur. Heracl. 824–9; Supp. 701–5, 711–12; Phoen. 1143–8, 1252–3; Hec. 929–32; Hel. 1593–5, 1597–9, 1603–4. 31 There is an interesting twist in exhortation in Euripides’ Medea. In the famous monologue, where the heroine encourages herself to commit the appalling deed, the playwright has her employ a typical hortatory motif: “Into the fray! Now it is a contest of courage” (Med. 244 CHAPTER 4

Aristophanic comedy makes consistent use of references to the glorious past, drawing motifs from both exhortation and funeral orations.32 Aristophanes thus significantly expands the functional spectrum of exhortation and makes it correspond to the social and political character of his satire. The choruses in the Wasps, Lysistrata and Acharnians consist of old men who have fought in the Persian Wars, and particularly at Marathon (Marathonomachai), which Aristophanes considered the most important battle. The repeated mention of the splendid deeds of the past and the Marathon victory operate as an exhortation to the Athenians to live up to the standards of their ancestors and the previous achievements of their city. The same nostalgic and hortatory tone may be sensed in Knights 1334, where the Demos is said by the chorus to be worthy of the city and the Marathon trophy, or in Bdelycleon’s exhortation to the jury in Wasps 711 to enjoy a life worthy of their land and their victory at Marathon (cf. Wasps 682–5). As far as contemporary oratory is concerned, we mentioned in the Introduction that the evidence may be sparse but we still have a few works that either have an epideictic purpose or display epideictic elements: the Tetralogies of Antiphon, Gorgias’ Palamedes, Helen and the Funeral Oration, fragments of Pericles’ Samian funeral oration and Pericles’ funeral oration in Thucydides. By the time of Herodotus the funeral oration has also taken its formal shape, which experienced only minor changes from the fifth through to the fourth century, while as a result of democratic politics all three types of oratory thrived. Most of the arguments and hortatory and similar epideictic topoi were in wide circulation by the time of Herodotus.33 In keeping with the war-dominant theme, historiography is the genre that employs harangue time and again. Another important reason for the popularity of hortatory speeches with the historians is their affinity to epideictic rhetoric. The historians’ aim to bestow praise and blame overlaps with that of epideictic oratory. Hence they are quite prone to making use of epideictic elements and topoi, especially in their speeches but also in their narrative. With a remarkably fertile background and Herodotus leading the way, pre-battle speeches take their standard form in Thucydides and retain it in all later Greek

403: ἕρπ’ ἐς τὸ δεινόν· νῦν ἀγὼν εὐψυχίας). The effect is all the more expressive since the character delivers a self-exhortation. Medea assumes two simultaneous roles for herself: she is both the general and the soldier, a mixture which anticipates her intense internal fight and emotional outbursts in the course of the play (cf. Mastronarde 2002: 237). 32 E.g. Wasps 1075–90; Lysistrata 273–82, 667–9; Acharnians 179–85, 676–702. 33 See above, pp. 20–2, 27 with notes. Pre-battle Speeches 245

(Xenophon, Polybius, Diodorus) and Roman (Tacitus, Livy, Caesar) historians.34 Thucydides gives exhortation its own distinctive, strict and solemn style, combined with a unique functional flexibility.35 Except for a more elaborate rhetorical form, exhortation performs a whole range of narrative functions, from deceleration of narrative pace (fulfilling the role of digressions which are few in number) to bringing suspense to a climax by revealing and explaining the psychology and thoughts of characters, their motivation and circumstances. An additional major development is in enriching the forms of exhortation; paired exhortations, full and condensed epipoleseis, and generalized cries of exhortation are all employed and given enhanced usage. Finally, Thucydidean exhortation freely couples epideictic and deliberative arguments.36

4.3 Herodotean Harangues

A survey of the scholarship to date shows that pre-battle exhortation in Herodotus has not been given adequate attention. The dominant trend is to identify exhortations in the Histories, albeit in incomplete form, and consider them the forerunners of proper exhortation speeches.37 Apart from the

34 On pre-battle speeches in the historians, see Burgess 1902: 211–14 (Greek and Roman historians); Albertus 1908: 28–35 (list of harangues in Greek and Roman historians); Pritchett 1994: 52–100 (Greek and Roman historians); 2002: 26–52 (Herodotus, Polybius, Xenophon, Thucydides); Abbamonte, Miletti and Buongiovanni 2009 (Greek and Roman historians); Mattaliano 2010 (Greek historians). On Xenophon, see Pritchett 1994: 70–82; Gera 1993: 109–15 (Cyropaedia). On Polybius, see Pritchett 1994: 84–90; Wooten 1974: 243. 35 For Pritchett (1994: 105), even the parainetic motifs we encounter in Thucydidean, as well as Xenophontic, exhortations “are highly individualistic, applicable to the particular military situation”. 36 On Thucydidean exhortation, see Luschnat 1942; Leimbach 1985; Iglesias-Zoido 2007; Pritchett 1994: 54–70 (catalogue and brief discussion of harangues). 37 See Hansen 1993: 161, cf. also 173: “In Herodotus’ Histories there is not yet any genuine battlefield exhortation to be found. It must be Thukydides who invented the genre, which was then adopted by later historians and became more and more rhetorical in character”; 2001: 96. See also Burgess (1902: 211): “Herodotus shows the general’s speech in rudimen- tary form”; Albertus 1908: 25–7. Deffner (1933: 17–23), Keitel (1987: 153–72), Gera (1993: 111 n. 272), Pritchett (1994: 52–4, 103–5; 2002: 26–7), Iglesias-Zoido (2007: 143), and Mattaliano (2010: 18–20) all accept the presence of exhortation speeches in Herodotus. On individual speeches taken as harangues, see Solmsen 1943: 206 n. 19 (Miltiades 6.109.3–6; Dionysius 6.11); 1944: 252 and n. 27 (Pausanias 9.60; Miltiades 6.109.3–6; Dionysius 6.11.2–3); Flower and Marincola 2002: 38 (Pausanias 9.60), 134 (Harmocydes 9.17.4); Abbamonte, Miletti and Buongiovanni 2009: 48–51 (Harmocydes 9.17.4; Themistocles 8.83); for Albertus (1908: 246 CHAPTER 4 cursory labelling of some speeches as harangues, Pritchett, Keitel and Solmsen between them provide some helpful inventories and observations. Pritchett38 has handily listed the harangues in Herodotus and classified the relevant topoi. Keitel briefly discusses Xerxes’ exhortation to his generals (7.53) as an example of the common “ethical appeal to uphold the honor of one’s father- land as well as one’s personal and family honor by fighting bravely”, and mentions the debate between Mardonius and Artabazus (9.41–42.1) as a case when a council scene in the historians replaces an exhortation by undertaking comparable functions.39 Solmsen has briefly commented on the narrative functions of some Herodotean exhortations. She remarks that if the speeches of Dionysius of Phocaea (6.11.2–3) and Miltiades before Marathon (6.109.3–6) are examined in connection with their context, then they appear to serve novel functions: they foretell future development, respectively that disorder will bring about defeat and disaster for the Ionians, and that the victory at Marathon will be crucial for Athens. As far as Dionysius’ speech is concerned, Solmsen observes that we experience further development of Homeric motifs as the speech goes on (and this also applies to the case of Miltiades): “The speech started in the form of an exhortation speech which in epics often announces decisive events. But its second part, which pictures the consequences of discipline and disorder, is an addition to the original exhortation speech of epics”.40 Other than the brief analyses of these critics, there is no specific study of battle exhortation in the Histories. Even Iglesias-Zoido in his otherwise excellent article, where he discusses Thucydidean pre-battle speeches as a brand new form of exhortation, spares only a hasty reference to Herodotus, who is merely said to belong to the previous literary tradition which provides Thucydides with the parainetic motifs.41 The considerable neglect of exhortation in Herodotus is largely due to the assumed dissimilarity with Thucydides, who is properly credited with the invention of the formal genre and used by his predecessors as a model when it comes to exhortation. Furthermore, Herodotus’ tendency not to use consistently standard formulas either at the

26–7) it is the speeches of Harmocydes, Dionysius and Xerxes (7.53) that come closer to harangues. Hohti (1976: 10) denies the existence of exhortation speeches in the Histories. However, Hohti (1976: 75 n. 2) agrees with Solmsen (1943: 206 n. 19) that the speeches of Miltiades and (6.109.3–6) and Dionysius (6.11) are battle exhortations. 38 See Pritchett 1994: 52–4, 102–5. 39 See Keitel 1987: 159, 164 (quotation from p. 159). 40 See Solmsen 1943: 206 n. 19. 41 See Iglesias-Zoido 2007: 143. Pre-battle Speeches 247 beginning or the end of his harangues, unlike Thucydides, renders it all the more difficult to identify speeches as exhortations. The most important reason is the plasticity of Herodotean speeches, which reflects the plasticity and var- iegated nature of the narrative—a narrative that, it should be borne in mind, has different aims from its Thucydidean counterpart. Since exhortations are only rarely named as such, and the format, audience and specific context of utterance are remarkably diverse, the definition of pre-battle speeches in Herodotus requires a certain degree of adaptation. We need to expand the scope to cover all the cases when exhortations are delivered in a war context, even if not just before a battle. A safer guide to this is the combination of three factors: the content, placement and aim of a speech. The content includes, but is not limited to, the typical hortatory themes. The placement may be either shortly or long before a battle or, occasionally, during a battle and before the final blow, or even before an expedition (Persian Wars). The target is to encourage and inspire the people to fight bravely in the battle/ war at hand. With respect to the audience, these speeches are not necessarily addressed to whole armies but mostly to smaller groups of soldiers. At times, they are addressed to one general and, in the case of the Persians, to a few nobles or the supreme commanders of the military units. This definition is sufficiently broad and allows the exploration of a range of pieces of rhetoric related to exhortation as shaped by Thucydides and later historians. My purpose in stretching the criteria is not to put Herodotus forward as the ‘inventor’ of pre-battle speeches. I rather propose to show that Herodotus is making use of comparable motifs, terminology and forms, as well as mixing diverse strands of rhetorical argument. All of these features, together with an extended functional application, constitute significant developments in the tradition of exhortation and pave the way for its proper (re)invention in Thucydides. Applying the broad definition outlined above, the following Herodotean speeches may qualify as pre-battle exhortations:42 Dionysius of Phocaea (6.11.2–3); Miltiades (6.109.3–6);43 Xerxes (7.53); Greeks and barbarians (8.15.2); Themistocles (8.83); Harmocydes (9.17.4); Mardonius (9.42.2–4);44

42 Most of the passages recorded here are mentioned in Pritchett’s listing (1994: 52–4). Some of them have also been labelled as exhortations by other scholars (see above, p. 245 n. 37). 43 Given that the conduct of a battle is contingent on Callimachus’ decision and that Miltiades’ speech urges Callimachus to vote for a battle, the hortatory status of this speech is rather ambivalent. The speech, however, contains the usual hortatory topoi and, even if addressed to one man only, is still delivered by a general before a battle. 44 Herodotus calls this speech a parainesis at 9.44.1. I follow Powell (s.v. παραίνεσις) here who translates the word in the particular passage as ‘exhortation’. 248 CHAPTER 4

Mardonius (9.58.2–4);45 Pausanias (9.60). Of these speeches, only two are directed at troops at all: Themistocles’ speech before the battle at Salamis and that of Harmocydes of Phocaea, albeit before a battle that is never fought. The exchanges of the Tegeans and Athenians before the battle at Plataea (9.26–7) may also be filed under the category of pre-battle speeches. Although the Tegean and Athenian speeches seem to loosely fit our criteria, they do entail a number of epideictic themes common to hortatory orations, are delivered before a battle (even if long before),46 and convey some kind of encouragement both explicitly (Athenians: “let us focus on the battle at hand”; Tegeans: “pick us, Spartans, because we are better than the Athenians”) and implicitly (“we, the Athenians, defeated the Persians at Marathon, so you Spartans be brave and trust again in us now”). This set of speeches, examined in detail below, stands out as a particularly interesting model of pre-battle rhetoric, in that it makes the most extensive use of epideictic motifs in the Histories. In the context of a few of the aforementioned exhortations, we come across the verbs παραινῶ and παρακελεύομαι. These words, however, do not always serve the purpose of introducing exhortations, nor are the exhortation speeches always introduced by these words. The most common meaning of παραινέω and its derivative noun παραίνεσις is ‘to advise, to order’ and ‘a piece of advice’ respectively.47 They are only used three times to describe military exhortation: Themistocles (8.83.2: παραινέσας), Mardonius (9.44.1: παραίνεσιν) and Harmocydes (9.17.4—9.18.1: introduced and concluded by παραίνεε in the form of ring-composition). Παρακελεύομαι is mostly used with the meaning ‘to enjoin’48 and twice denotes generalized cries of exhortation (8.15.1, 15.2).49

45 Deffner (1933: 21) considers this speech clearly a harangue. Hohti (1976: 75 n. 2) disagrees because Mardonius does not address the troops. The validity of his argument is, nevertheless, disputed because the limitations of the Persian political system allow the king and his representative to address the leading Persians only and not the common soldiers. 46 Pritchett’s (1994: 54) criterion for categorizing this set of speeches as an example of exhortation is merely its placement before the battle. 47 See Powell s.vv. παραίνεσις and παραινέω. 48 With the following subtle variations depending on the context: ‘to order, to command, to instruct, to counsel’. See Powell s.v. παρακελεύομαι. 49 For 8.15.1 the manuscripts give two different readings, παρασκευασάμενοι and παρακελευσάμενοι. Hude reads παρασκευασάμενοι. Based on the following text and the repetition of the verb at 8.15.2 (παρεκελεύοντο), Immerwahr (1966: 267 n. 83) accepts the reading παρακελευσάμενοι. In both cases he translates as ‘encourage by shouts’ and attributes the same meaning in all probability to παρακελεύομαι at 9.102.2. Bowie (2007: 108) also accepts the same reading at 8.15.1 as it “gives a more dramatic picture than the alternative reading παρασκευασάμενοι”. He moreover translates παρεκελεύοντο (8.15.2) as well Pre-battle Speeches 249

Likewise, Thucydides uses the word to refer to generalized cries of encouragement and extends its usage to speeches of individual generals.50 In all likelihood, the word παρακελεύομαι occurs for the first time in Greek literature in Herodotus, who is also the first to employ it in the sense of ‘exhort’.51 Herodotus may well reflect general usage and Thucydides may simply be narrowing that usage. If Herodotus does not use παρακελεύομαι as a technical term, one need not assume Herodotean influence on Thucydides at all at the level of terminology. On the other hand, since Herodotus uses the word less systematically than Thucydides, who in turn employs the word consistently in exhortation contexts, it is tempting to assume that Thucydides might have taken the word from Herodotus and developed its use through connecting it closely, but not exclusively, with the harangue framework. Turning to the form of exhortation,52 apart from harangues of individual generals, Herodotus brings into play other kinds of pre-battle speeches, such as paired generalized cries of exhortation and paired exhortations, thus drawing heavily on Homeric precedents. Needless to say, this form is somewhat under- developed compared to the more systematic one seen in Thucydides. With paired generalized cries of exhortation, Herodotus has the soldiers on both sides exhort each other during the fight. The very first example of such a form of exhortation appears in Homer during the fight over the dead body of Patroclus (Il. 17.414–23). Despite the prospect of death, the Achaeans and Trojans each encourage their men to stand up bravely and fight for the dead man because retreat would entail disgrace. Thucydides exploits the same model in his description of the last naval battle at Syracuse (7.70.7): we are given the shouts of encouragement (παρακέλευσις) on both the Syracusan and the Athenian sides. There is one comparable case in the Histories, when, in the Artemisium narrative, Herodotus reports the Greek and Persian words of encouragement (8.15.2).53

as παρακελευσάμενοι at 9.102.2 as ‘encouraging each other’. lsj (s.v. παρακελεύομαι) translates παρακελευσάμενοι at 9.102.2 as ‘encourage one another by shouting’. But see Powell (s.v. παρακελεύομαι) who translates παρακελευσάμενοι at both 8.15.1 and 9.102.2 as ‘give the word’ (i.e. ‘give order’), παρεκελεύοντο at 8.15.2 as ‘enjoin’, and the impersonal pluperfect passive at 8.93.2 as ‘orders had been given’. 50 E.g. Thuc. 7.70.7 (Athenian and Syracusan shouts of exhortation [παρακέλευσις]); 6.67.3 (the speech of Nicias). 51 See lsj s.v. παρακελεύομαι. 52 Based on Keitel’s (1987: 160–71) discussion of ‘Forms and Functions of Speeches’. 53 See also Immerwahr (1966: 267 n. 83): “these shouts, then, concern the main issue of battle, and they are related to generals’ speeches as a fixed literary genre”. 250 CHAPTER 4

As far as paired exhortations (the exhortations of the generals in the opposing camps) go, Herodotus works again in the framework of Homer. An indicative epic example of this is the quotation of the harangues of both Achilles and Hector to their companions in Il. 20.353–73. This becomes such a common practice in Thucydides that only rarely do we come across an exhortation lacking its pair on the side of the enemy.54 These paired exhortations very often seem to reply to or pick up points from each other. Herodotus provides an example very close to these sets of speeches: the speeches of Mardonius (9.58.2–4)55 and Pausanias (9.60). In spite of their slightly different vantage points, Mardonius and Pausanias clearly echo one other.56

4.3.1 Traditional Material: Topoi and Proverbs Herodotus places himself in the tradition of exhortation through the consistent use of many of the hortatory topoi, most of which make their first appearance in Homer and which become standard in Thucydides and later harangues. It is worth considering this multitude of topoi to give some idea of the types of themes and topics considered by Herodotus’s speakers. His speakers57 give military instructions before the battle (Dionysius of Phocaea 6.11.2), they invoke the gods (Dionysius of Phocaea 6.11.3; Xerxes 7.53.2; Miltiades 6.109.5), and highlight the consequences of defeat mainly by opposing slavery to freedom (Dionysius 6.11.2; Miltiades 6.109.3–6; Pausanias 9.60.1).58 Indeed, in their response to the Tegeans the Athenians indirectly refer to the polarity between freedom and slavery (9.27.2: they saved the Heraclids from

54 Paired exhortations include: the Peloponnesian generals and Phormio before the battle of Naupactus (2.87, 89); Pagondas and Hippocrates before the battle at Delium (4.92, 95); Nicias on the one hand and Gylippus and the Syracusan generals on the other before the sea-battle at Syracuse (7.61–4, 66–8). On the function of paired exhortations in Thucydides, see de Romilly 1956: 138–61. 55 Deffner (1933: 21) and Hohti (1976: 75) also regard this speech as the counterweight to Pausanias’ subsequent speech at 9.60. Pace Gera (1993: 111): “Herodotus, for example, has very few military harangues and no pairs of exhortations by opposing leaders”. 56 See ὑπὸ τὴν παροιχομένην νύκτα καὶ οἱ πάντες ὁρῶμεν διαδράντας (9.58.2)—ὑπὸ τὴν παροιχομένην νύκτα διαδράντων (9.60.1); ἐπαινεόντων τούτους τοῖσί τι καὶ συνῃδέατε (9.58.3)— συνοίδαμεν δὲ ὑμῖν (9.60.3). There is a slight difference in what Mardonius and Pausanias say: whereas the former claims the Spartans fled, Pausanias declares the allies abandoned them (and the Tegeans) and the Athenians. Cf. Macan 1908b: 724, 726. 57 Here I combine the categorizations by Burgess (1902: 212–13) and Pritchett (1994: 102–5). 58 Rather than a locus communis in exhortations, Scott (2005: 100) considers the theme of freedom vs. slavery a Herodotean ‘commonplace’, mentioned frequently in relation to the Greco-barbarian polarity. Pre-battle Speeches 251

Eurystheus; 9.27.5: they saved Greece from the Persians at Marathon). Speakers also mention rewards to victors (Miltiades 6.109.3–6; Xerxes 7.53.2), refer to past achievements and ancestry (Xerxes 7.53.1; Tegeans 9.26; Athenians 9.27), appeal to patriotism and a common goal (Xerxes 7.53.1), and emphasize the glory of a brave death and the disgrace of defeat (Harmocydes 9.17.4). It is frequently stressed that valour and not numbers prevails in war: this is implied by the Greek-barbarian contrast drawn by Harmocydes at 9.17.4, which further alludes to the contrast between freedom and slavery, and, more generally, to the superiority of Greeks to barbarians; it is also used by Athenians, who at 9.26.5 say that they defeated forty-six barbarian nations by themselves at Marathon. Herodotus’ speakers also make sure to reinforce the magnitude of the occasion: on the Persian side, this is demonstrated in Xerxes’ speech by the phrase “if we defeat the Greeks, no other army in the whole world will ever stand against us” (7.53.2); on the Greek side, this is indicated by making clear that the freedom of the Greeks depends altogether on the fight at hand (Dionysius of Phocaea 6.11.2; Miltiades 6.109.3). They underline the wrongs suffered at the hands of the enemy, which justify the war (Mardonius 9.58.4), highlight the possibility of victory based on bravery and unfavourably compare the forces of the enemy to their own in terms of courage (Mardonius 9.58.2). Yet they abate the tone of overconfidence with remarks that stress the bravery of the enemies and therefore imply the bravery of the troops in facing such enemies, as with Xerxes at 7.53.2: “for as I am assured, we march against valiant men”. Herodotus and his audience must have been well versed in these kinds of arguments known from literature and rhetoric, as discussed in section 4.2. Starting with Thucydides, the historians acknowledge that elements inherited by tradition constitute the raw material on which every harangue is built and are still current in similar circumstances.59 Thucydides famously recognizes the themes as commonplaces when, reporting Nicias’ hortatory speech at 7.69.2, he comments: “he said other things too, the things that men can be expected to say when they are actually on the edge of the event and do not bother to avoid giving the impression of using conventional language (ἀρχαιολογεῖν); instead they bring forward the kind of appeals that can generally be used on all occasions”. In a similar vein, Polybius frequently uses the expression τὰ πρέποντα τῷ καιρῷ/τοῖς καιροῖς ‘words suitable to the occasion’ (usually with παρακαλῶ),60

59 Cf. Pritchett 1994: 106. 60 See e.g. Polyb. 1.60.5; 2.64.1. Rood (2004: 161) summarily reviews this expression in speeches in Polybius as a technique to avoid including secondary narratives. 252 CHAPTER 4 just as Diodorus employs expressions like τοῖς οἰκείοις λόγοις ‘the appropriate words’ (with παραθαρσύνω, παρακαλῶ etc.).61 Herodotus shows a corresponding level of awareness, the key example of which is Themistocles’ speech at 8.83.62 The speech has been classified as a pre- battle exhortation,63 but has not attracted much scholarly attention—most likely by virtue of its brevity and report in indirect discourse. Nonetheless, it is crucial to the unlocking of Herodotean narrative strategy with reference to exhortation. In particular, Herodotus deliberately presents a summarized version of the speech because it contained some of the common hortatory motifs with which the audience was already familiar. Summarizing the content of the speech, Herodotus states that it foretold victory, that it was a comparison of the better and worse in human nature and condition, and that Themistocles eventually urged the Greeks to choose the better. Readers are merely told that the speech was built upon a series of antitheses, but no further detail is given as to what those better and worse aspects are. In fact, any extra piece of information would be redundant precisely because the basic content of harangue was familiar.64 Herodotus knows, therefore, that the audience can easily improvise the speech. In all probability, it involved the most common harangue antitheses, such as victory vs. defeat, freedom vs. slavery, bravery/glorious death/ honour vs. cowardice/shameful death/disgrace. Herodotus’ choice to withhold the details of the speech seems then to serve a triple purpose. First, he admits knowledge of traditional and current exhortation and epideictic themes, and thus also establishes a link between his work and previous as well as contemporary literature and rhetoric. Second, he develops a kind of dialogue with his readers as they are, in a sense, invited to flesh out the exhortation for themselves. In this context, Macan’s65 attempt to reconstruct the content of the speech is an exemplary form of the type of reader engagement that Herodotus might have in mind. Third, Herodotus spares his audience well-known topoi to whom their repetition would be tedious.66

61 See e.g. Diod. 13.98.1; 15.74.5; 19.81.6. 62 For the text and translation of the speech, see above, p. 81. 63 See Immerwahr 1966: 282 n. 127; Bowie 2007: 172; Iglesias-Zoido 2007: 143; Abbamonte, Miletti and Buongiovanni 2009: 37–8, 50–1. 64 Plato’s Ion 540d (ἀλλ᾽ οἷα ἀνδρὶ πρέπει εἰπεῖν γνώσεται στρατηγῷ στρατιώταις παραινοῦντι;) also points to the artificial nature of parainetic motifs. 65 Macan (1908b: 488) attempts to restore the general schema of the speech, spots omissions in it as it stands, and conjectures on its potential impact upon the audience. 66 Cf. How and Wells 1912: 263. This point is related to Herodotus’ concern for the pace of his narrative at this particular juncture. For additional readings of Themistocles’ speech in terms of both narrative pace and characterization, see above, pp. 81–3. Pre-battle Speeches 253

Mindful of his readers’ reaction, Herodotus deploys strategies that can engage their attention. Leaving it to his readers to make the connections and fill in the gaps, Herodotus implicates them directly in the process of signification and interpretation. By indirectly drawing in other literary genres, Herodotus further invites his readers to see the intertextual relationship between these genres and his own work, and encourages them to use other literature to better understand his work. As discussed in brief in the Introduction, and will be discussed more thoroughly in the Conclusion, recognition of the dialogic nature of Herodotus’ work has by now become a commonplace of recent scholarship. Herodotus’ interaction with previous and contemporary rhetorical models, as well as the interaction with his readers in sketching out Themistocles’ speech, reaffirms the dialogic character and openness of his narrative. Apart from these conventional motifs, Herodotus uses other traditional material in the form of proverbs (παροιμίαι) or maxims (γνῶμαι).67 The use of proverbs when exhorting troops must have been quite common as one may gather from Aristotle’s Rhetoric (Rh. 1395a10–18). Proverbs belong to popular wisdom and as such they increase the authority of a speech; hence they have a greater impact on the audience.68 Thucydides favours maxims in his exhortations, principally in the form of generalizations or universal truths about human nature and affairs.69 Herodotus uses proverbs in the speeches of Dionysius of Phocaea and Harmocydes.70 Dionysius starts his speech with an arresting phrase which sounds proverbial: “things are on the razor’s edge” (6.11.2: ἐπὶ ξυροῦ γὰρ ἀκμῆς ἔχεται ἡμῖν τὰ πρήγματα). The phrase, moreover, bears specifically Homeric resonances echoing Iliad 10.173: “since now for all (the Achaeans) it stands on a razor’s edge” (νῦν γὰρ δὴ πάντεσσιν ἐπὶ ξυροῦ ἵσταται ἀκμὴς).71 Hornblower72 observes the strengthening of the epic flavour through the use of an additional Homeric word, the verb ἠγορόωντο (6.11.1). The verb, which occurs frequently in Homer (e.g. Il. 4.1; 8.230), is used uniquely here in Herodotus. If Herodotus wanted his

67 On proverbs and maxims in Herodotus, see Lang 1984: 58–67; Gould 1989: 78–82; Shapiro 2000: 89–118; Pelling 2006a: 141–77. 68 See Arist. Rh. 1395a8–13; Quint. Inst. 5.11.21. 69 On generalizations in Thucydides, see Meister 1955; cf. Rutherford 1994: 56–9. 70 See also Shapiro 2000: 112, 114. 71 On the epic echo, see Deffner 1933: 23 n. 1; Solmsen 1943: 203–4; Hornblower 1994a: 66–7; Scott 2005: 99; Pelling 2006b: 80; cf. Macan (1895: 276): “This proverbial expression is as old as Homer, Il. 10.173”. Pace Hohti (1976: 47 n. 2), for whom the phrase is most probably a “common enough proverb without having any clear connection with the epic”. 72 See Hornblower 1994a: 66–7. 254 CHAPTER 4 phrase to be merely proverbial, then he would have skipped the nice Homeric reverberation just before Dionysius’ speech. One plausible explanation may be that Herodotus wants to exaggerate the Ionian fondness for ornate and pompous speeches.73 Along similar lines, the Homeric parallel drawn might aim at contrasting the two situations, thereby playing down the importance of the moment for the Ionians. On the other hand, and without excluding any such hint of irony, the parallel seems to liken the urgency of both circumstances since the moment is indeed so crucial for the Ionians: life is at risk for the Achaeans (Il. 10.173) and freedom at stake for the Ionians. The use of elevated rhetoric emphasizes the importance of the battle to follow for the freedom of the Ionians. If they lose, dishonour and disgrace will be greater as their status will worsen: they will not only be slaves, but runaway slaves. Victory is possible provided they briefly endure hardness and toil; hence, if they fail to gain their freedom from the Persians, they themselves will be wholly responsible. Given that this elaborate speech is followed by the worst reaction (the Ionians initially vote enthusiastically for Dionysius, but after seven days they grow displeased, demonstrate indifference and stop obeying Dionysius), forceful irony is generated. All this fuss for nothing: lofty language falls on deaf ears.74 Solemn moments require solemn language. Harmocydes likewise declares: “It is better to die actively defending ourselves than just to give up and suffer a shameful death. Let each one of them learn that they, being barbarians, planned the death of Greek men” (9.17.4).75 Τhe proverbial expression is profoundly charged with poetic overtones. The phrase ῥάπτειν φόνον occurs in Odyssey 16.379: φόνον αἰπὺν ἐράπτομεν.76 The phrase αἰσχίστῳ μόρῳ77 features in Sophocles and slightly differently in Aeschylus.78 And the use of τελευτῆσαι τὸν αἰῶνα79 is more solemn than the simple τελευτᾶν.80 Read in its narrow context,

73 See How and Wells (1912: 68): “The word (i.e. ἠγορόωντο) in this epic form may be ironically reminiscent of such passages as Il. iv. 1, viii. 230. Elaborate oratory, an Ionic failing (iii. 46), was certainly unseasonable . . .” 74 Cf. also Pelling 2006b: 80. 75 κρέσσον γὰρ ποιεῦντάς τι καὶ ἀμυνομένους τελευτῆσαι τὸν αἰῶνα ἤ περ παρέχοντας διαφθαρῆναι αἰσχίστῳ μόρῳ. ἀλλὰ μαθέτω τις αὐτῶν ὅτι ἐόντες βάρβαροι ἐπ’ Ἕλλησι ἀνδράσι φόνο ἔρραψαν. 76 See Macan 1908b: 625; How and Wells 1912: 293; Flower and Marincola 2002: 135. 77 The word μόρος occurs once again in Herodotus at 5.21.1: τούτῳ τῷ μόρῳ διεφθάρησαν. 78 See Soph. Aj. 1059: αἰσχίστῳ μόρῳ; Aesch. Pers. 444: δυσκλεεστάτῳ μόρῳ. See also How and Wells 1912: 293; Flower and Marincola 2002: 135. 79 This occurs twice more in Herodotus at 1.32.5 and 9.27.3. 80 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 135. Pre-battle Speeches 255 the speech is expressively ironic since the battle is never fought. Once again, there is much fuss for nothing. Interpreted against the wider narrative context, the speech may serve a broader purpose; it may be taken as a generalized exhortation for the last battles of the Persian Wars, Plataea and Mycale.81

4.3.2 Exhortation vs. Deliberative and Epideictic Oratory: Mix and Match We have seen that rhetorical tradition testifies to the generic versatility of exhortations. The combination of elements from different rhetorical genres in exhortation or the use of exhortative elements in different rhetorical genres is thought to be imported into historiography by Thucydides.82 Thucydides developed thoroughly and perfected the marrying of these oratorical components but Herodotus already attempts such a match of elements to serve wider narrative purposes. In Herodotus, harangues often mix features of either deliberative or epideictic speeches, or even both, and deliberative or epideictic speeches borrow hortatory themes. A combination of deliberative, exhortative and also epideictic features is traced in the dispute between the Tegeans and the Athenians (9.26–7) analyzed below. Another neat example of exhortation, which carries deliberative and epideictic features, is Miltiades’ speech to Callimachus before Marathon (6.109.3–6). Miltiades’ effort to explain in detail the pros of a battle and the cons of avoiding a battle—especially since a final decision has not yet been taken—brings it close to a symbouleutic speech on the advisability of a course of action. Themistocles’ speech to Eurybiades is a symbouleutic speech which forms part of a debate (8.60α–γ). Still, it presents us with an interesting blend of exhortatory elements and deliberative argumentation. On the one hand, Themistocles expatiates on the two possible alternatives, analyzing the drawbacks and advantages of both. On the other, the structure of his argument is strikingly analogous to that of Miltiades’ argument: the appeal to save Greece

81 See further below, section 4.4.7. Similarly Flower and Marincola (2002: 38): “Though no battle is actually fought, the Phocian resistance anticipates the similar and subsequent Greek display of bravery at Plataea and Mycale”. 82 See Iglesias-Zoido (2007: 146): “Maxims and exhortative motifs no longer sufficed to meet the new functions demanded of the speech in Thucydides’ work, and so he was forced to avail himself of the resources of oratory and rhetoric of the late fifth century bce, along with the Homeric model, blending the most useful elements of these to achieve his ends”. On Thucydides’ relation to deliberative and epideictic oratory, see e.g. Iglesias- Zoido 2007: 146–50. 256 CHAPTER 4 is set against the appeal to save Athens and is introduced by similar phrasing.83 Themistocles’ reference to the gods is an additional common hortatory motif: “Let a man lay his plans with due regard to common sense, and he will usually succeed; otherwise he will find that god is unlikely to favour human designs” (8.60γ). The communality of military background also suggests resemblances between pre-battle speeches and deliberative speeches relating to war in particular. These include either speeches advising war or speeches urging an alliance in the context of debates, some of which were dealt with in chapter 3. Exhortations seem to both draw from and enrich the same scope of argumentation. Interaction of this kind is eloquently demonstrated in the speeches of Mardonius to Xerxes. In his attempt to convince Xerxes to attack Greece, Mardonius deploys the following parainetic motifs: the fight is just in order to punish the wrongdoers (7.5.2, 9.1–2; 8.100.3); benefits for the winners (7.5.2–3); disgrace of defeat (8.100.4); comparison of forces (7.9α.1, 9β.2–γ). Xerxes uses similar arguments when he opens the council in book 7, stressing the importance of revenge (7.8α.2–β.3, 8γ.3), and the plentiful rewards to the victors (7.8γ). He begins his speech to the leading Persians with a praise of the Persian empire and the ancestors who empowered it, and connects this past with his obligation to continue the tradition (7.8α). This is not unlike the typical praises of epideictic oratory, while the exhortation that concludes the speech recalls specifically Athenian funeral orations (with the city of Athens displaced by the Great King and eternal glory displaced by luscious material rewards): “If, then, you wish to gain my favour, each one of you must present himself willingly on the day which I shall name; whoever brings with him the best equipped body of troops I will reward with those gifts held in greatest value by our countrymen” (7.8δ.1).84 Of speeches aiming at alliance, those of Aristagoras at Sparta (5.49.2–8) and Hegesistratus (9.90.2–3) present similarities with exhortations in the following points: invocation of the gods (5.49.3; 9.90.2)—although in a slightly different sense, that is, they invoke the common Greek gods to stress kinship bonds; freedom vs. slavery (5.49.3; 9.90.2); rewards to the victors (5.49.2–3; 9.90.2).

83 See Hdt. 6.109.3: ἐν σοί νῦν, Καλλίμαχε, ἐστὶ ἢ καταδουλῶσαι Ἀθήνας ἢ ἐλευθέρας ποιήσαντα . . . ; 8.60α: ἐν σοὶ νῦν ἐστι σῶσαι τὴν Ἑλλάδα . . . See Hohti 1976: 65. Cf. also Lang 1984: 57–8; Scott 2005: 382. 84 Cf. e.g. Thuc. 2.41.5: “Such is the city for whose sake these men nobly fought and died; they could not bear the thought that she might be taken from them; and every one of us who survive should gladly toil on her behalf”; Plato Men. 246c: “I shall continue to remind you and admonish you to be zealous to show yourselves supremely valiant”. Pre-battle Speeches 257

Next to these speeches one may place Philippides’ speech to the Spartans, which also deploys the most prominent harangue topos, the contrast between freedom and slavery, in order to stimulate the Spartans into action.85 Other than exposing the generic elasticity of harangue and Herodotus’ rhetorical consciousness, the interaction between different kinds of rhetorical argument may be read as an indication of divisive tendencies within the Greek coalition and of the ever present prospect of the fragmentation of the Greek purpose. Persuasive rhetoric demands that common interests are combined with vested interests, and the display of one’s achievements can make its way through exhortation and advice. The invocation of the gods and of freedom, regardless of the sincerity of the claims, is always a clever way to introduce, buttress, or round off deliberative and epideictic arguments. Some case studies in the next section will throw light on the ways in which the blending of oratorical species, employed by both Greeks and Persians, hints at Greek disunity.

4.4 Function of Exhortations: Case Studies

4.4.1 Prefiguring Ionian and Greek Disunity: Dionysius of Phocaea Close to the end of the Ionian revolt, the Persians gather all their army forces together, determined to attack first Miletus and then the rest of Ionia. At learning this, the Ionians decide to defend Miletus by sea: they man all their ships, meet at the island of Lade (off the coast of Miletus), and prepare for a naval battle against the enemy (6.6–7). At Lade, several conferences take place and many people speak, but Herodotus only reports the speech of Dionysius of Phocaea. Dionysius stresses the grave circumstances as the freedom of Ionia is at risk. If the Ionians consent to endure hardship for a little while, their prize will be freedom as the enemy will either not attack at all or, if they do, they will be defeated. If the Ionians decide the opposite, they will lose and will be punished by the king for revolting (6.11.2–3). Dionysius tries to encourage the Ionians and persuade them to undergo military training in preparation for a battle. For this purpose, he emphasizes the importance of discipline and training for a victory against the Persians— hence the striking contrast between πόνος (hardship) and μαλακίη/ἀταξίη (softness/disorder).86 Dionysius thus puts his finger on the main disadvantages of

85 See Hdt. 6.106.2: καὶ μὴ περιιδεῖν πόλιν ἀρχαιοτάτην ἐν τοῖσι Ἕλλησι δουλοσύνῃ περιπεσοῦσαν πρὸς ἀνδρῶν βαρβάρων. 86 See Hdt. 6.11.2: νῦν ὦν ὑμεῖς ἢν μὲν βούλησθε ταλαιπωρίας ἐνδέκεσθαι, τὸ παραχρῆμα μὲν πόνος ὑμῖν ἔσται, οἷοί τε δὲ ἔσεσθε ὑπερβαλόμενοι τοὺς ἐναντίους εἶναι ἐλεύθεροι· εἰ δὲ μαλακίῃ τε 258 CHAPTER 4 the Ionian character, namely, lack of judgment, training and unity. He further alludes proleptically to the Ionian defeat at Lade as well as to the failure of the revolt on account of these negative traits among other things.87 The placement of the speech at this particular narrative point shows that, far from being predetermined, defeat was in fact a matter of choice; had the Ionians been willing to work harder, they had very high chances of winning the fight. The preceding narrative corroborates the possibility of victory because the Persian officers are said to dread the prospect of their defeat upon learning that the size of the Ionian fleet was greater than they had anticipated (and a defeat at sea would frustrate their attempt to take Miletus, which would then evoke punishment from Darius).88 The reference to μαλακίη and ἀταξίη in Dionysius’ speech somewhat echoes the authorial gloss in passage 6.10. The Persians propose to leave the Ionians unharmed if they surrender (6.9), but the Ionians reject the offer and refuse to come to terms with the Persians. Herodotus, commenting from hindsight, chastises the Ionians for their unreasonable stubbornness (6.10: ἀγνωμοσύνῃ τε διεχρέωντο “but the Ionians demonstrated an uncompromising attitude”). The rejection of Dionysius’ hard training scheme by the Ionians after a seven-day trial fortifies this picture by demonstrating the unreasonable attitude which leads them to an unreasonable decision:

τίνα δαιμόνων παραβάντες τάδε ἀναπίμπλαμεν; οἵτινες παραφρονήσαντες καὶ ἐκπλώσαντες ἐκ τοῦ νόου ἀνδρὶ Φωκαιέϊ ἀλαζόνι, παρεχομένῳ νέας τρεῖς, ἐπιτρέψαντες ἡμέας αὐτοὺς ἔχομεν· ὁ δὲ παραλαβὼν ἡμέας λυμαίνεται λύμῃσι ἀνηκέστοισι, καὶ δὴ πολλοὶ μὲν ἡμέων ἐς νούσους πεπτώκασι, πολλοὶ δὲ ἐπίδοξοι τὠυτὸ τοῦτο πείσεσθαι· πρό τε τούτων τῶν κακῶν ἡμῖν γε κρέσσον καὶ ὅ τι ὦν ἄλλο παθεῖν ἐστι, καὶ τὴν μέλλουσαν δουληίην ὑπομεῖναι ἥτις ἔσται, μᾶλλον

καὶ ἀταξίῃ διαχρήσησθε, οὐδεμίαν ὑμέων ἔχω ἐλπίδα μὴ οὐ δώσειν [ὑμέας] δίκην βασιλέϊ τῆς ἀποστάσιος. 87 On the anticipatory function of the speech, see also Solmsen 1943: 204–6 and n. 19; Hohti 1976: 47 n. 3. Cf. Scott 2005: 100. The failure of the Ionian revolt is a very delicate matter and it is difficult to say whether it happened due to the Ionians’ own nature or this is Athenian propaganda (cf. generally Solmsen 1943: 203–5; Hohti 1976: 47). 88 See Hdt. 6.9.1: ἐνθαῦτα οἱ Περσέων στρατηγοὶ πυθόμενοι τὸ πλῆθος τῶν Ἰάδων νεῶν καταρρώδησαν μὴ οὐ δυνατοὶ γένωνται ὑπερβαλέσθαι, καὶ οὕτως οὔτε τὴν Μίλητον οἷοί τε ἔωσι ἐξελεῖν μὴ οὐκ ἐόντες ναυκράτορες, πρός τε Δαρείου κινδυνεύσωσι κακόν τι λαβεῖν. Pre-battle Speeches 259

ἢ τῇ παρεούσῃ συνέχεσθαι. φέρετε, τοῦ λοιποῦ μὴ πειθώμεθα αὐτοῦ. ταῦτα ἔλεξαν, καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα αὐτίκα πείθεσθαι οὐδεὶς ἤθελε, . . . (6.12.3–4)

‘What god have we offended to be punished like this? We must have been crazy and out of our minds to have put ourselves in the hands of this swollen-headed Phocaean who provides no more than three ships for the fleet. Now that he has taken over, he is inflicting intolerable hardships on us. Many of us have already become ill, and many more expect to be. Anything would be better than this misery, even slavery in the future, since it is slavery we are enduring at the moment. So come on: let us stop obeying him from now on’. It was no sooner said than done. Every man in the fleet refused duty.

In a forceful piece of direct discourse the Ionians use exaggerated language, which is mismatched to the circumstances, equating their training with slavery, compared to which their enslavement to the Persians is far more preferable, and abandon the scheme. Several points deserve special mention here. First, the use of the word παραφρονήσαντες (6.12.3): the Ionians call themselves deranged—emphasizing this by adding that they are out of their minds— because they trusted themselves to an arrogant Phocaean who is contribut- ing three ships only. An intratextual reading links παραφρονήσαντες to mental illness: it is used twice to indicate the madness of Cambyses (3.34.3, in his own voice) and Cleomenes (6.75.2, authorial voice). This association stresses the weight of the word and its abuse in this context, to the point that it makes the word sound rather comical. Do the Ionians think they are crazy because they accept one man as their leader? Or is it because of the small number of ships that that man’s city offers?89 But this they knew already when they agreed on his leadership. Aspects of inter-city competition seem to surface here (“why Dionysius and not someone who contributes more ships?”) as well as wider issues, dealt with in chapter 2, concerning the lack of a constitutional framework which regulates inter-state deliberation and relations. In this context Dionysius’ effort to keep the Ionians united anticipates the effort of Themistocles to deter the dispersal of the Greek forces.90 Or it may be that

89 Cf. Achilles in the Iliad: the most useful man contributes only fifty ships. 90 Cf. the close resemblance between the subsequent career of Dionysius and that of Themistocles: the former ends up in Sicily and becomes a pirate (attacking Carthaginian and Tyrrhenian but not Greek ships) as soon as the Ionian revolt falls through (6.17); the 260 CHAPTER 4 they cannot grapple with the idea of one man controlling them after they went to all this trouble to get rid of their tyrants. Yet, they would happily suffer Persian slavery, we may speculate, because this way no Ionian would have absolute power. On the other hand, Herodotus would have no qualms about calling the Ionians ‘deranged’ but for quite opposite reasons: to stop training because they got worn out within a week was just as ‘mad’ as what they did straight after, when “they pitched tents, like soldiers, in the island, lounged about in the shade, and refused to go aboard their vessels or to continue their training in any way whatever” (6.12.4). Second, the Ionians’ preference for submission to the Persians is in accord with their servile nature which runs through the text, creating a complex network of analepseis and prolepseis that foreshadow and explain the inglorious ending of the revolt.91 The Ionians reject Bias’ suggestion to settle a new colony at Sardinia, where they will escape slavery and be prosperous (1.170); the Samians reject the isonomie offered to them by Maeandrius (3.142–3). The negative Scythian impression of the Ionians is also telling: “the Scythians have a low opinion of the men of Ionia in consequence of all this: to consider them as a free people, they are, they say, the most despicable and craven in the world; and, considered as slaves, the most subservient to their masters and the least likely to run away” (4.142).92

latter, after Salamis, forces money out of Aegean islands, threatening to bring the Greek army against them if they refuse to pay (8.111–12). 91 Cf. also the comparison between the Ionians and the tattooed slave drawn by Munson (2007: 167): “As the central and helpless element in a triptych, between Aristagoras and Histiaeus, between East and West, they [i.e. the Ionians] bear a striking resemblance to their ridiculous unspoken embodiment, the man with APOSTASIS branded on his head”. 92 Σκύθαι . . . τοῦτο μὲν, ὡς ἐόντας Ἴωνας ἐλευθέρους, κακίστους τε καὶ ἀνανδροτάτους κρίνουσι εἶναι ἁπάντων ἀνθρώπων, τοῦτο δέ, ὡς δούλων Ἰώνων τὸν λόγον ποιεύμενοι, ἀνδράποδα φιλοδέσποτά φασι εἶναι καὶ ἄδρηστα μάλιστα. Note that the evaluation of the Ionians by the Scythians should not be disengaged from the contemporary historical context, which presents us with a double-edged judgment. On the one hand, there are passages in Thucydides that prove the propaganda of the Athenians and their attempts to emphasize their supremacy at the expense of their Ionian kinsmen (e.g. 1.74–5, 99). On the other hand, there are other Thucydidean passages where Brasidas (5.9.1), Hermocrates (6.77.1) and Gylippus (7.5.4) consider the Ionians servile and less courageous than the free Dorians and identify the Athenians with the Ionians. Elsewhere in Thucydidean narrative Nicias openly comments on Athenian reluctance and lack of discipline (6.9.3; 7.14.2). Cf. also Kallet (2001: 93–4 and n. 22) who considers this a further echo which corroborates her comparison of Herodotus’ description of the Ionian revolt and Thucydides’ description of the Sicilian expedition. On the Scythian remark, see Irwin and Greenwood 2007a: 21–5. Pre-battle Speeches 261

Now, the ease with which the Ionians accept Dionysius as their leader93 anticipates the ease with which they decide to mutiny against him. The continuous change of heart of the Ionians demonstrates lack of judgment and control of the situation: their refusal to become traitors (6.10) crowns their initial successes on the eve of the revolt,94 but then they disobey Dionysius and declare they prefer Persian slavery. This attitude and their ἀταξίῃ (repeated twice at 6.12.2, 13.1) lead to the detachment of the cities from the alliance, with the Samians leading the way (6.13.1, 14.3). An authorial gloss at 6.14.1 further hints at disunity, reflected in competing accounts of who fared better in the battle: “I cannot relate for certain which of the Ionian contingents fought well and which fought ill; for the reports are confused, everybody blaming everybody else (ἀλλήλους γὰρ καταιτιῶνται)”. Ionian disunity prefigures Greek disunity during and following the Persian Wars.95 The model of the rejection of a leader who would join the Greeks and lead them to victory is fairly reproduced in book 7, when the Greeks (Athenians and Spartans) reject Gelon’s request to be the leader of either the infantry or the fleet. The ‘hard training’ motif in the case of Dionysius and the Ionians slightly tones down the analogy with Gelon. Yet problems of command and unity feature in both cases. The Greeks, moreover, are more successful than the Ionians in the end as they generate sufficient coherence to defeat Persia at Salamis and Plataea. Clearly there is an intrinsic tendency towards fragmentation, but some degree of coherence is achieved intermittently, even if unity is sometimes produced by sleight-of-hand. The Ionian revolt is arguably one of the most contested pieces of Herodotean narrative. Its presentation has been considered more or less biased, based on several sources such as Athenian, Samian, or other Ionian.96 Of course one has to be alert to possible bias either on the part of Herodotus or his sources. However, recent trends in scholarship tend to focus on how Herodotus shapes

93 Reflected also in the immediate and straightforward way it is given in the narrative, in one line of Greek text: ταῦτα ἀκούσαντες οἱ Ἴωνες ἐπιτρέπουσι σφέας αὐτοὺς τῷ Διονυσίῳ (6.12.1). 94 They burn Sardis (5.100–102.1); take control of many cities at the Hellespont and ally with the greater part of Caria, Caunos and Cyprus, apart from Amathus (5.103–4); and win a fight at Pedasus with the help of the Carians (5.121). 95 Tozzi (1978: 43–4) points out the similarities between the battles at Lade and Salamis. Cf. also Munson 2007: 147–8. 96 On Herodotus’ biased stance towards the Ionians, see Macan 1895: 277; How and Wells 1912: 69; Cary 1926 (specifically pro-Athenian and pro-Samian); Blamire 1959; Lang 1968; Lateiner 1982; Stadter 1992: 803–8. Mitchell (1975), Scott (2005: 103) and Murray (1988: 487–8) argue for pro-Samian sources. On Herodotus’ narrative as relatively unbiased, see Waters 1970 (he focuses on Herodotus’ historical methodology); Chapman 1972. 262 CHAPTER 4 the narrative, on the multiple interpretations and the vagueness of motivation suggested by the narrative and the speeches embedded within it.97 Thomas,98 for example, argues that such a story as the Ionian rebellion against Dionysius’ leadership could at the same time very neatly serve the interests of different groups (e.g. the Samians, the other Ionians, even the Athenians). This confla- tion of differing viewpoints also anticipates comparable competitive tendencies and self-serving motivation in mainland Greece during the Persian Wars. The Plataea narrative in particular seems to be constructed in such a way as to satisfy both Athenian and Spartan interests: after the crush of Mardonius’ cavalry by the Athenians (9.20–4) and their self-laudation in the Atheno-Tegean debate (9.26–7), the Athenians gloriously retire from the scene as, obstructed by the Persians, they cannot be of any help to the Spartans, and the Spartans fight bravely to the end and prevail.

4.4.2 Emphasizing Self-Serving Motives: Miltiades at Marathon After the conquest of Eretria, the Persians head towards Marathon. The Athenians together with the Plataeans also march to meet them there. On the field of Marathon, the generals of the Athenians are divided; half of them do not think a battle is a good idea given that the Persians outnumber them, while the other half urges on an engagement with the enemy. At that point, the Athenian general Miltiades attempts to convince the polemarch Callimachus to go for a battle (6.109.3–6). Yet, within his otherwise forceful hortatory speech, which presents us with the usual ideal motives put forward in similar circumstances, Herodotus nests egotistical incentives99 and disunity receives a mention too. This is briefly the content of the speech: Athens’ fate is in the hands of Callimachus and his decisive vote; if they fight and win, Athens will be free and the greatest city in Greece and Callimachus will be honoured more than Harmodius and Aristogeiton; if the Athenians do not fight the enemy now, there will be conflict among them and they are likely to ally with the Persians, in which case Hippias will be set up as tyrant once again. Apart from the common hortatory motifs sketched out earlier, Miltiades dwells on claims of local patriotism and Callimachus’ vested interests in this battle. His rhetoric is focused on Athens. Miltiades concentrates on the dangers of a potential rejection of a battle for Athens and the future glory which

97 See Thomas 2004; Munson 2007; Baragwanath 2008: 186–9 (esp. on the motivation of the Ionians). 98 See Thomas 2004: 37. On the account of the revolt serving the Ionian’s interests, see Munson 2007: 148–9, 167. 99 Cf. Baragwanath 2008: 170–1. Pre-battle Speeches 263 would ensue from a potential victory. The argument that Athens will become the first among the Greek cities is repeated twice and alludes to the Athenian hegemony at the time of Herodotus.100 One would expect the protection of Greece to be either the focal point or at least mentioned in passing, especially on account of the fact that fifth- and fourth-century Athenian rhetoric drew on Marathon to emphasize their contribution to the defence of Greece against the barbarians. But Athens is singled out from all other Greek cities and this fight is for Athens alone. Athens is indeed facing immediate danger and Miltiades may also be pragmatic here, considering that the Spartans have not sent any help yet, despite the Athenian request (6.106). If no one else but the Plataeans cares about the fate of the Athenians, why should they care about anyone else? It is Callimachus’ Athenian local patriotism that Miltiades appeals to. For Callimachus personally the lure is the glorious memory he will leave behind for posterity if he helps to liberate Athens, a memory greater than that of Harmodius and Aristogeiton.101 This particular historical example is carefully calculated. According to Miltiades, in the same way that the tyrannicides freed Athens from the Peisistratids (they murdered Hippias’ brother, Hipparchus), Callimachus will secure the freedom of Athens from the tyranny of the Persians and the reinstatement of Hippias. The mention of Hippias in the next sentence, fighting with the Persians on this occasion, makes the comparison between Callimachus and Harmodius and Aristogeiton more vivid.102 So does the fact that Callimachus, Harmodius and Aristogeiton come from the same deme of Aphidna.103 Callimachus’ glorious reputation is compared to, and said to outweigh, that of Harmodius and Aristogeiton—a delicate way by which Miltiades incorporates an element of competition. This would pose a great temptation to Callimachus, who knew that Athenian popular tradition heroized Harmodius and Aristogeiton very soon after the fall of tyranny: they were celebrated as the saviours of Athens from tyranny, with their own cult, statues made of them and placed in the Athenian agora, and sympotic songs (pmg 893–6) written

100 See Hdt. 6.109.3: ἢν δὲ περιγένηται αὕτη ἡ πόλις, οἵη τέ ἐστι πρώτη τῶν Ἑλληνίδων πολίων γενέσθαι; 6.109.6: ἔστι τοι πατρίς τε ἐλευθέρη καὶ πόλις πρώτη τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι. 101 See Hdt. 6.109.3: μνημόσυνον λιπέσθαι ἐς τὸν ἅπαντα ἀνθρώπων βίον οἷον οὐδὲ Ἁρμόδιός τε καὶ Ἀριστογείτων [λείπουσι]. 102 See Hdt. 6.109.3: νῦν γὰρ δὴ ἐξ οὗ ἐγένοντο Ἀθηναῖοι, ἐς κίνδυνον ἥκουσι μέγιστον, καὶ ἢν μέν γε ὑποκύψωσι τοῖσι Μήδοισι, δέδεκται τὰ πείσονται παραδεδομένοι Ἱππίῃ “Never in their history have the Athenians been in such peril as now. If we submit to the Persians, Hippias will be restored to power—and there is little doubt what misery must then ensue”. 103 See Hdt. 5.57; Plut. Table-Talk 628d. 264 CHAPTER 4 in their honour.104 Even if we agree with Scott105 that by μνημόσυνον (6.109.3) Miltiades refers exclusively to a memorial, that is, the statues of the tyrannicides (Paus. 1.8.5), this does not reduce the force of the passage. For one thing, Callimachus could envisage a statue of himself positioned next to those of Hardonius and Aristogeiton that everyone could see in the agora. Besides this, we know that sacrifices made to Harmodius and Aristogeiton were presided over by the polemarch (Ath. Pol. 58.1), which makes Miltiades’ choice of this example hardly random.106 Most importantly, there is all that the tyrant slayers represented. Throughout the fifth and fourth centuries, Harmodius and Aristogeiton were taken to sym- bolize a range of often conflicting themes, adapted to respond to the changing historico-political demands: Athenian anti-tyrannical sentiments, freedom, democracy, team spirit, the reciprocal relationship between the city and the citizens, social tension and strife between aristocratic and democratic strands of the population, and the power of the demos against the aristocrats. Its manifold significations gave the story almost mythical dimensions. The unique place of Harmodius and Aristogeiton in Athenian history and ideology is further attested by Xerxes’ removal of their statues, as symbols of democracy, from the agora when he occupied Athens in 480/79 (Paus. 1.8.5).107 There is still more to unpack here. The tyrannicides were in fact not the ones to have rid Athens of the Peisistratids. To be sure, they were part of the liberation process which was, however, completed with the Spartan intervention, instigated by the Alcmaeonids, who bribed the oracle at Delphi to give the Spartans false divinations, as Herodotus relates (6.62–5).108 The historian actually argues that “it was the Alcmaeonids that played a far greater part in winning Athens’ freedom (οὕτω τὰς Ἀθήνας οὗτοι ἦσαν οἱ ἐλευθερώσαντες πολλῷ μᾶλλον) than Harmodius and Aristogeiton” (6.123.2). Herodotus also reports twice that the tyrant slayers actually made the tyranny of Hippias harsher

104 See Scott 2005: 412. 105 See Scott (2005: 383): “A μνημόσυνον is an actual memorial, not the memories which future Athenians would have”. 106 Cf. also Loraux 1986: 40 and n. 165. 107 For a wide-ranging discussion of the story of the tyrannicides, see Monoson 2000: 21–50. For a comprehensive study of the representation and significance of the tyrannicides in the artistic and political sphere of fifth-century Athens, see Taylor 1981 (note also p. 23: the tyrannicides were closely connected with the war dead, specifically with the heroes of the Persian Wars and Marathon in particular, the greatest of Athenian victories). Specifically on the tyrannicides’ ideological significance for the Athenians, see Raaflaub 2003: 63–9. 108 On the diverse oral traditions regarding the expulsion of the Peisistratids, see Thomas 1989: 238–82. Pre-battle Speeches 265 for another four years (5.55; 6.123.2). Thucydides also mentions the role of the Alcmaeonids and Sparta, and adds that the Spartan intervention was not something that the people were comfortable with (6.53.3, 59.4). An element of pro-Alcmaeonid and in particular pro-Periclean bias cannot be excluded either in the case of Herodotus—whose comment is part of his defence of the Alcmaeonids (6.121–4)—109 or indeed in the case of Thucydides. Be that as it may, both historians cast a shadow over the celebrated feat of the tyrant killers. For post-Persian War Athens, it made perfect sense to minimize or ignore the contribution of Sparta, given the tension between the two cities. Miltiades’ focus on Harmodius and Aristogeiton may likewise reveal hostility between Athens and Sparta already at the time of the Persian Wars. But it might be imbued with additional meaning: it may point to anti-Alcmaeonid sources and thus divulge intra-city rivalries between aristocratic and democratic elements or between aristocratic families. Another possibility is that Miltiades promotes the tyrannicides, the heroes of democracy against tyranny, because they con- stituted a less harmful element in the story of the expulsion of the tyrants that could forge unification rather than feuds among the Athenians. The mismatch between rhetoric and reality, or rather the selective emphasis on those aspects of history that better serve the specific context, shows Miltiades’ rhetoric to be well tailored.110 His speech involves an interesting interplay between personal, deme and Athenian pride. Callimachus’ individual contribution in this critical moment is emphasized by the recurrent use of the second person singular personal pronoun.111 Athens’ future and glory is inextricably and exclusively linked with Callimachus’ decision (6.109.6: “So it is entirely up to you now; it all depends on you”). Callimachus further needs to continue the glorious reputation of his deme as opponent of tyranny. Finally, Athens needs to get rid of the tyrants by itself, just as it did in the past. Readers may also recall that personal and public interest are already interwoven in

109 On Herodotus’ sources for these chapters, see Scott 2005: 405–8 (with much relevant bibliography). Perhaps the fact that Harmodius and Aristogeiton were not Athenians but were originally Gephyreans, as Herodotus points out in 5.55, 58 (see Pelling 2009: 482), whereas the Alcmaeonids were native Athenians (Hdt. 5.62; see also Loraux 1986: 149 and n. 120) also played a role in Herodotus’ treatment of the tyrannicides. 110 Similarly, albeit directed towards historical rather than rhetorical concerns, Scott (2005: 383): “If there is an inconsistency, it would not have worried Herodotus. He here needs Miltiades only to take the perfectly fair point: do not undo the good work done, or begun to be done, by the tyrannicides”. 111 σοί (Hdt. 6.109.3), σέ (Hdt. 6.109.4), and especially their clustering in the conclusion of the speech: ταῦτα ὦν πάντα ἐς σὲ νῦν τείνει καὶ ἐκ σέο ἄρτηται· ἢν γὰρ σὺ γνώμῃ τῇ ἐμῇ προσθῇ, ἔστι τοι πατρίς τε ἐλευθέρη καὶ πόλις πρώτη τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἑλλάδι (Hdt. 6.109.6). 266 CHAPTER 4 the story of Harmodius and Aristogeiton: in his treatment of the incident, Thucydides presents the killing of Hipparchus as the result of a passionate love story (6.53–9: Hipparchus, rejected by Harmodius, insulted his sister and was therefore killed by Harmodius and his lover, Aristogeiton). Miltiades does not only employ, or allude to, a combination of personal and public motivation, but his career also represents a case of ambiguous motivation.112 Backward links take us to book 4. There Miltiades is the tyrant of the Chersonese and serves under the Persians in the Scythian expedition. He partakes in the Danube bridge debate, where he lays out his political agenda, championing freedom for Ionia (4.137.1). This is perfectly in line with his pleading with Callimachus to save the freedom of Athens, but, seen in the context of the Paros expedition, it blurs Miltiades’ motivation. The Paros story takes place after Marathon. Miltiades asks the Athenians to provide him with an army and money to undertake a campaign against Paros and promises great rewards. However, he conceals his self-centred motives and gives false reasons for the expedition. His pretexts, the fact that he does not disclose the name of the place he would attack until he is guaranteed resources (6.132), and the accusation of beguiling the public made against him by Xanthippus in view of the unsuccessful expedition (6.136.1: Ἀθηναίων ἀπάτης εἵνεκεν), clearly point to deception.113 If Miltiades’ speech is taken as a blend of an idealistic and a self-centred, narrow local strand, is there any genuinely idealistic exhortation in the Marathon narrative? The speech of Philippides asking for the help of the Spartans before the battle at Marathon (6.106.2) could potentially be read as a counterbalance to Miltiades’ in that it brings in truly noble motivation. A more careful look, however, proves the two speeches complementary rather than contrasting, because the speech of Philippides presents us with a similar blending of motivation. Philippides introduces a concept of Greek unity through a double repetition (ἐν τοῖσι Ἕλλησι, ἡ Ἑλλάς), but one that still carries some obscurity. Except for the stress on the panhellenic significance of a victory against the Persians, the importance of Athens is also emphasized through its description as the most ancient city of Greece (πόλιν ἀρχαιοτάτην). The phrase implies autochthony,114 and thus superiority. It therefore alludes to Miltiades’ argument about the prominence of Athens among the Greek

112 Here I disagree with Thompson (1996: 40), who sees a change in Miltiades’ motivation after Marathon from noble to self-centred. 113 One should not forget, however, that for Herodotus Miltiades’ deception and ambiguous motivation do not disqualify the good things he does or says. 114 On the ambivalence of the Athenian autochthony argument in the Histories, see above, p. 210. Pre-battle Speeches 267 cities. Athenian local patriotism, or else self-interest, is delicately hinted at here. The incident involving Philippides’ meeting with the god Pan, recounted in the previous chapter (6.105), somewhat increases the significance of autochthony touched on by Philippides. Pan, who represented the other most famous Greek autochthonous group, the Arcadians, was conveniently incorporated into the Athenian discourse of aboriginality.115 In this sense, then, Philippides’ speech may be viewed as a pilot speech, which encapsulates the contradictory character of the Athenians as a combination of self-interest and a panhellenic cause. This is a feature which is shared both by the Athenian people and Athenian individuals (e.g. Miltiades, Themistocles), and which prevails in the Marathon narrative.116 For Baragwanath, the self-seeking motivation expressed in Miltiades’ speech (and, we may add, Philippides’) is offset by the narrative which describes the outcome of the battle:

The narrative of the aftermath, however—where Kallimachos, unnamed (now described simply as ὁ πολέμαρχος, the ‘War Archon’), is slain alongside many other famous Athenians (6.114)—shifts the reader’s focus to the selflessness of the outcome rather than the partly self-regarding motives to which Miltiades had appealed.117

Given that this is the closure of the battle, Herodotus may intend to leave a strong impression of idealism which overcomes individualism in readers’ minds. Miltiades manages to persuade Callimachus, but the motivation of the latter remains unclear. Though his role was appreciated by the Athenians and he was commemorated in the Stoa Poikile, his reward in the Histories is not what Miltiades promises. Miltiades takes all the credit here,118 whereas Callimachus receives only one sentence relating his death after having fought bravely.119 The focus of Miltiades is not Callimachus, but Athens. His speech anticipates the importance of the victory at Marathon for the Athenians themselves:

115 On the assimilation of Pan into the Athenian culture and society, see Loraux 2000: 38–46. 116 Cf. Immerwahr 1966: 250–1; Hohti 1976: 49. 117 See Baragwanath 2008: 171. 118 The matter of sources is important, and the praise of Miltiades at the expense of Callimachus may be attributed to Philaid bias or even to Herodotus’ personal bias and selectivity. To the same Philaid source may be attributed the debate at the Danube bridge when Miltiades defends freedom. See How and Wells 1912: 111; Waters 1985: 148; Scott 2005: 19 n. 60, 24–5 and n. 77, 382–4. 119 See Hdt. 6.114: καὶ τοῦτο μὲν ἐν τούτῳ τῷ πόνῳ ὁ πολέμαρχος [Καλλίμαχος] διαφθείρεται, ἀνὴρ γενόμενος ἀγαθός. 268 CHAPTER 4 within the time span of ten years Marathon has already been mythicized and constitutes the strongest argument the Athenians use in their dispute with the Tegeans to claim precedence in the battle line before the fight at Plataea (9.26–7). The recurrent argument that Athens will be the most prominent Greek city after a victory at Marathon sets the scene for the Athenian claim for precedence at Plataea: the Athenians won the fight and therefore their city is the first city in Greece. Statements of primacy aside, disunity manifests itself in the speech of Miltiades in yet another way, in the form of fragmenting tendencies within Athenian society: with the votes of their generals equally divided, the decision not to engage the Persians will most likely fuel a civil war, which might in turn lead to medism (6.109.4–5).120 Miltiades clusters together partly idealistic and partly self-centred motives. Still the idealistic motive concerns only Athens and not Greece. On the one hand, this makes sense in a context where Athens is being directly attacked and one would expect the defense of Athens to be the front and center concern. On the other hand, extratextual and intratextual links stress the strictly Athenian viewpoint of Miltiades’ rhetoric and blur the motivation put forward. These links already indicate disunity among the Greeks. The lack of a sense of communality and any interest in the shared danger which threatens Greece echo the pragmatic arguments employed by Aristagoras in his speech to Cleomenes. There we also miss any reference to the common danger to both the Ionians and the mainland Greeks (5.49.2–8).121

4.4.3 Supporting and Contesting the Greco-Persian Polarity: Pausanias Glorifying Athens and Sparta During the battle of Plataea, when the Persian cavalry falls upon the Spartans, the Spartan commander Pausanias sends a courier to ask for the help of the Athenians (9.60). His message runs as follows: “the freedom or enslavement of Greece depends on this fight; the allies have abandoned us so we must help

120 ἡμέων τῶν στρατηγῶν ἐόντων δέκα δίχα γίνονται αἱ γνῶμαι, τῶν μὲν κελευόντων συμβαλεῖν, τῶν δὲ οὔ. ἢν μέν νυν μὴ συμβάλωμεν, ἔλπομαί τινα στάσιν μεγάλην διασείσειν ἐμπεσοῦσαν τὰ Ἀθηναίων φρονήματα ὥστε μηδίσαι. 121 Such a reference features prominently in the speech of the Greek heralds to Gelon: “Greece united will be strong and a match for the invader; but if some of us betray and others stand aside, and only a minority is sound, then there is reason to fear that all Greece may fall. If the Persians defeat us in battle and make us their subjects, you should not expect them not to pay you a visit but you should take precautions” (7.157.2–3). However, expediency is all too often readily employed to persuade the other party that the plan to be adopted, or the alliance to be concluded, is to its own advantage. Pre-battle Speeches 269 each other; now that we are being attacked by the Persian horse we need you or your archers to give us a hand us and we count on your eagerness”. The importance of the present conflict and Athenian zeal are properly emphasized, but the speech essentially reproduces more or less the events described in the previous narrative (9.52–7) as well as in Mardonius’ speech (9.58.2). Both the internal (Athenians) and external audience already know what happened and do not need to be reminded, not so soon at any rate. Herodotus must have had something else in mind when incorporating this speech into the text. Suspense, tribute to the Athenians and Spartans, unity and the Greco-Persian polarity are all equally involved. The repetition increases the suspense as the battle action pauses once more and Herodotus engages readers’ interest, making them wonder whether Athenian aid will be granted and whether it will arrive on time. The repetition also adds to the significance of both the specific occasion and the battle in general. The stress on the urgency of the moment draws attention to Sparta’s contribution: it exalts Spartan spirit, since the Spartans managed to ward the Persians away from Greece in such critical circumstances.122 Another possibility is that the speech might come from an Athenian source.123 The speech aims to honour Athens by explicitly acknowledging its devotion in the present war. This function of the speech is further endorsed by the fact that the narrative immediately following proves the speech futile: despite their willingness, the Athenians are held up by the Persian forces, and so are eventually unable to support the Spartans and Tegeans (9.61.1). The speech honours Athens in yet another way: Pausanias’ request of help follows upon the scene in which the Athenian messenger witnessed the quarrel between Amompharetus, who refused to withdraw with the rest of the Spartan army, and the commanders of the army, Pausanias and Euryanax (9.53–5). This incident caused a considerable delay that resulted in the Spartans’ present predicament as the Persian cavalry caught up with them and attacked them (9.56–7). The Athenians could have easily said to the Spartans at this point: “You have got us into all this trouble by quarreling among yourselves, why should we help you?” But they do not. Instead “they attempted to help the Spartans and defend them with all their might” (9.61.1: ὁρμέατο βοηθέειν καὶ τὰ μάλιστα ἐπαμύνειν). This is to the Athenians’ credit: they are shown not to hold

122 Note also the tribute paid to the Tegeans in 9.60.2. 123 Cf. Macan 1908b: 726. Pace How and Wells (1912: 313): “But it is quite natural that Pausanias, who probably thought he was attacked by the whole force of the enemy, should ask for reinforcements from his nearest allies, and especially for archers to help him against the Persian cavalry”. 270 CHAPTER 4 grudges and to be interested in presenting a united front against the invaders. In complimenting the Athenian conduct, Pausanias’ speech and the subsequent Athenian reaction to it thus complement one of the primary functions of the Tegean-Athenian debate (9.26–7).124 However that may be, our primary concern here is the construction of a rhetorically persuasive speech. Flattery is without doubt one of the best ways—if not the best way—to win the favour of the audience. And the most suitable part of a speech to use flattery is that designed to increase the pathos, the epilogue. Pausanias’ comment is then strategically placed at the end of the address: “We know that you are totally committed to this war, and so that you will not refuse this request” (9.60.3).125 The way in which Pausanias tries to persuade his audience into a certain state of mind by putting it in the position of the speaker also endorses the effectiveness of his request: “if the cavalry had attacked you first, it would of course have been our duty to come to your assistance” (9.60.2).126 Speaking in a courteous manner, Pausanias even makes things easier for the Athenians by giving them an alternative which will be no less appreciated:127 “If you are in any difficulty which prevents you from coming to our aid, then send us your archers and we shall be grateful” (9.60.3).128 The speech is a forceful appeal to unity. At the same time the elements employed to plead for cooperation allude to, and render sharper, the contrast between Athens and Sparta. On the one hand, there is constant juxtaposition of ‘us’ (Spartans) and ‘you’ (Athenians), albeit embedded in a context of mutual assistance.129 On the other hand, there is the expression δίκαιοί ἐστε (9.60.2), whose function is slightly more complex. The same phrase is used by the Athenians a few chapters earlier, in their quarrel with the Tegeans (9.27.6: δίκαιοί εἰμεν). In both passages, the notion of something being right—in other words, someone deserving something—buttresses the argumentation and

124 See below, pp. 289–90. 125 συνοίδαμεν δὲ ὑμῖν ὑπὸ τὸν παρεόντα τόνδε πόλεμον ἐοῦσι πολλὸν προθυμοτάτοισι, ὥστε καὶ ταῦτα ἐσακούειν. 126 εἰ μέν νυν ἐς ὑμέας ὅρμησε ἀρχὴν ἡ ἵππος, χρῆν δὴ ἡμέας . . . βοηθέειν ὑμῖν. 127 Similarly Flower and Marincola (2002: 212): “The language here is of polite request, even though Pausanias, as commander-in-chief, could have simply ordered the Athenians”. His politeness could further imply that he views the Athenians as equals to the Spartans and not like common Greek soldiers under his command—or so he wants the Athenians to think. 128 εἰ δ᾽ ἄρα αὐτοὺς ὑμέας καταλελάβηκε ἀδύνατόν τι βοηθέειν, ὑμεῖς δ᾽ ἡμῖν τοὺς τοξότας ἀποπέμψαντες χάριν θέσθε. 129 See Hdt. 9.60.1: ἡμεῖς . . . ὑμεῖς; 9.60.2: ὑμέας . . . ἡμέας . . . ἡμέων . . . ὑμῖν . . . ἡμέας . . . ὑμεῖς; 9.60.3: ὑμέας . . . ὑμεῖς . . . ἡμῖν . . . ὑμῖν. Pre-battle Speeches 271 the speakers are successful. The case is presented in such a way that there is no alternative but to accept it: “if the cavalry had attacked you first, it would of course have been our duty, along with the Tegeans, who, like us, did not betray Greece, to come to your assistance; but as we, not you, are bearing the whole weight of the attack, you are bound to support those who are hardest pressed” (9.60.2); “. . . then Marathon alone would be enough to qualify us not only for the privilege we are claiming but for others too; for in that fight we stood alone against Persia, and we dared a mighty enterprise, came out of it alive and we defeated forty-six nations. Are we not bound to hold this post for this act alone?” (9.27.5–6). The latter argument is obviously effective as the Spartans give the position of honour to the Athenians. The Athenians are now invited to interpret Pausanias’ argument in a similar manner: “you deserved the position and we gave it to you; now we deserve your help and you have to back us up”. Pausanias may be seen to appeal to the principles of reciprocity and mutual cooperation that a rejection of the present request would betray—a call for unity which would acquire extra weight as well as irony for Herodotus’ audiences, contemporary and not, in light of the Peloponnesian War. That this speech is delivered at the point when all the allies, except for the Tegeans, have deserted the Spartans and Athenians, as Pausanias also stresses in his speech,130 bears out the need for unified Atheno-Spartan action even more. Flower’s remark that Pausanias’ speech specifically conveys “the notion of dual leadership” of Athens and Sparta131 might reduce the impact of Pausanias’ allegedly selfless call to Greek unity but still points to an attempt to reconcile Athenian with Spartan interests. The topos of freedom vs. slavery which opens the speech is charged in numerous ways as well.132 This does not only foreground the Greco-Persian polarity at the political level, but it also problematizes that polarity, and this is exemplified by Pausanias’ subsequent actions.133 There are four incidents (the first three rather anecdotal)134 which involve Pausanias, and occur after

130 See Hdt. 9.60.1: προδεδόμεθα ὑπὸ τῶν συμμάχων ἡμεῖς τε οἱ Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ ὑμεῖς οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι ὑπὸ τὴν παροιχομένην νύκτα διαδράντων. 131 See Flower 2000: 79–80 (quotation from p. 80). Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 211. 132 See Hdt. 9.60.1: ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, ἀγῶνος μεγίστου προκειμένου ἐλευθέρην εἶναι ἢ δεδουλωμένην τὴν Ἑλλάδα. 133 On the complicated and ironic portrait of Herodotus’ Pausanias with reference to his future career, see Fornara 1971a: 62–6; Gould 1989: 117–18; Flower and Marincola 2002: 11–14. 134 For a discussion of these stories, see Flower and Marincola 2002: 240–3, 244–7, 251–3, 259–60; Pelling 2006c: 114–16. For a discussion of the Lampon story (in association with 272 CHAPTER 4 the battle at Plataea: Pausanias and the woman of Cos (9.76); Pausanias and Lampon of Aegina (9.78–9); the Greek and Persian meals (9.82); and Pausanias and Attaginus’ children (9.87–8). The common thread that runs through these stories is the moral superiority of Pausanias and the implicit but sharp moral contrast between Greeks and barbarians. Still, elements within the stories and elsewhere in Herodotean narrative as well as extratextual links with Thucydides’ account of Pausanias suggest the precarious nature of ethnic differentiations. In the first story, Pausanias saves from slavery a woman from Cos who used to be a concubine of the Persian Pharandates and is now a prisoner of war. He thus honours his guest-friendship with the woman’s father, Hegetorides of Cos, and demonstrates himself to be markedly different from the Persians, “those who”, according to the woman’s impassioned speech, “revere neither gods nor divinities”.135 In the second story, Pausanias refuses Lampon’s invitation to mutilate Mardonius’ body to avenge the maltreatment of the body of Leonidas by Mardonius and Xerxes; he says that such things are more befitting to barbarians than to Greeks, and yet even then the barbarians are still abhorrent.136 In the third story, Pausanias orders the cooks to prepare a typical Persian and a typical Spartan meal; he then juxtaposes the luxurious Persian dinner with the austere Spartan one, thus proving the Persian folly and opposing Greek toughness to Persian softness.137 In the last story, Pausanias spares the lives of the sons of the Theban traitor Attaginus, for they are mere boys and cannot be accused of medism (9.88: φὰς τοῦ μηδισμοῦ παῖδας οὐδὲν εἶναι μεταιτίους). This attitude emphasizes Pausanias’ noble nature, as a man who knows how to show moderation in victory and has high moral standards in contrast to the Persians. These positive qualities are combined with heroic overtones,

Homeric echoes and from the angle of the Greco-Persian polarity), see Pelling 2006b: 98–100. 135 See Hdt. 9.76.2: σὺ γὰρ καὶ ἐς τόδε ὤνησας τούσδε ἀπολέσας τοὺς οὔτε δαιμόνων οὔτε θεῶν ὄπιν ἔχοντας. 136 See Hdt. 9.79.1: τὰ πρέπει μᾶλλον βαρβάροισι ποιέειν ἤ περ Ἕλλησι· κἀκείνοισι δὲ ἐπιφθονέομεν. 137 See Hdt. 9.82.3: ἄνδρες Ἕλληνες, τῶνδε εἵνεκα ἐγὼ ὑμέας συνήγαγον, βουλόμενος ὑμῖν τοῦ Μήδου [ἡγεμόνος] τὴν ἀφροσύνην δέξαι, ὃς τοιήνδε δίαιταν ἔχων ἦλθε ἐς ἡμέας οὕτως ὀϊζυρὴν ἔχοντας ἀπαιρησόμενος. For, in the Histories, when poor people are attacked, the soft invaders are always defeated (e.g. Croesus and the Persians, Darius and the Scythians). The pattern is emphasized by wise counsellors like Sandanis, who advises Croesus on the Persians (1.71), Artabanus, who advises Darius on the aporia of the Scythians (4.83.1), and even Cyrus at the very last chapter of the work (9.122), where he warns the Persians to prepare themselves not to rule any more, but to be ruled by others, if they become soft men (cf. Hohti 1976: 75; Pelling 2006c: 115–16). Pre-battle Speeches 273 bolstered by persistent epic parallels that elevate Pausanias’ status. The Coan woman’s supplication is reminiscent of Helen’s appearance before Menelaus after the sack of Troy—not a Homeric scene but familiar in the Trojan cycle as well as a popular subject of Athenian vase-paintings.138 It also recalls the Homeric scene between Glaucus and Diomedes, the reconciliation of two enemies on the battlefield (Il. 6.119–236).139 The Lampon story evokes the mutilation of Hector’s body by Achilles to avenge the death of Patroclus (Il. 22.395 ff.), while the word κλέος, used to describe Pausanias’ glory,140 alludes to the Homeric concept of kleos. The heroic flavour of Pausanias’ representation is intensified by a comparison with Simonides’ Ode to Plataea.141 Simonides’ elegy is the earliest attempt we know of to immortalize the Greeks at Plataea by relating them to the Greek warriors at Troy and especially Achilles.142 Greeks and Persians are separated so far as moral superiority and self- restraint are concerned.143 In the Histories, the Persians indeed face everyone, guilty and non-guilty, in the same way, as Xerxes himself points out (7.8γ.3: οὕτω οἵ τε ἡμῖν αἴτιοι ἕξουσι δούλιον ζυγὸν οἵ τε ἀναίτιοι) and as their frequently cruel attitude towards innocent young people also confirms.144 But the Persians too are capable of showing generosity just as the Spartans are capable of killing innocents: Xerxes spares the lives of the Spartans Sperthias and Bulis, sent to him to be killed in order to make amends for the murder of Darius’ messengers by the Spartans, because he does not wish to behave like the Spartans (7.136.2).145 Indications of cultural crossings between Greeks and Persians are also there in the depiction of Pausanias’ personality. In the first two stories, Pausanias’ noble and heroic stature coexists with several signs of a responsive attitude towards the Persians in political and cultural terms, both abusive and excessive.

138 See Boedeker 2001a: 122. 139 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 240–1. 140 See Hdt. 9.78.2: καί τοι θεὸς παρέδωκε ῥυσάμενον τὴν Ἑλλάδα κλέος καταθέσθαι μέγιστον Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν. 141 For bibliography on the relationship between Herodotus and Simonides’ Ode to Plataea, see above, p. 29 n. 144. 142 See Boedeker 2001b: 148–63 (esp. p. 158 and nn. 57–9, 163); Aloni 2001: 98. Note also the use of the word kleos in the text of the New Simonides fr. 11.15, 28, 35 W. Other scholars (Lloyd- Jones 1994: 1; Shaw 2001) see a specific connection between the two Greek commanders, Achilles and Pausanias. 143 Flower and Marincola (2002: 292) juxtapose specifically Pausanias’ treatment of the Coan woman with Xerxes’ behaviour in the story of Masistes’ wife (9.108–13). 144 Cf. 4.84: Darius orders the killing of the three sons of Oebazus; 7.39.3: Xerxes orders the killing of Pythius’ eldest son. 145 Cf. the discussion of the story above, pp. 92–3. 274 CHAPTER 4

The incident with the woman of Cos—tactfully yet tellingly—hints at an autocratic depiction of Pausanias: she addresses him, in the form of a prayer, both as a king (9.76.2: ὦ βασιλεῦ Σπάρτης)146 and a god. This impression is reinforced by the way Pausanias dismisses Lampon, which bears similarity to the manner in which a king dismisses his subjects, as in the case of Xerxes and Artabanus.147 The introductory phrase of Lampon’s speech, which praises the greatness and glory of Pausanias’ enterprise, draws further associations between Pausanias and the Persians with its strong verbal echoes of praise of Persian individuals.148 Even the xenia of Pausanias with Hegetorides of Cos (9.76.3) adds to the picture of a Pausanias who likes establishing external relations and therefore departs from the Spartan norm.149 And the fourth story alludes to Pausanias later being accused of medism. Flashforwards elsewhere in the Histories operate directly to expose Pausanias’ later tyrannical tendencies: Pausanias desired to become ruler (τύραννος) of Greece and got engaged to Megabates’ daughter, and he was also exhibiting arrogant behaviour that lost the Spartans their leadership to the Athenians.150 Intertextual connections with Thucydides’ story of Pausanias enrich the complex nexus of interpretation. The Herodotean τύραννος is mirrored by

146 Still wrongly as Pausanias was the regent for Pleistarchus and not the king of Sparta (Hdt. 9.10.2–3). 147 See Hdt. 9.79.2 (Pausanias): σὺ μέντοι ἔτι ἔχων λόγον τοιόνδε μήτε προσέλθῃς ἔμοιγε μήτε συμβουλεύσῃς, χάριν τε ἴσθι ἐὼν ἀπαθής “never come to me with such a proposal again, and be grateful that you are allowed to go unpunished”; 7.11.1 (Xerxes): Ἀρτάβανε, πατρὸς εἶς τοῦ ἐμοῦ ἀδελφεός· τοῦτό σε ῥύσεται μηδένα ἄξιον μισθὸν λαβεῖν ἐπέων ματαίων “the only thing that saves you from being punished for such an empty and ridiculous speech is that you are the brother of my father”. 148 See Hdt. 9.78.2: ὦ παῖ Κλεομβρότου, ἔργον ἔργασταί τοι ὑπερφυὲς μέγαθός τε καὶ κάλλος, . . . Cf. Hdt. 7.187.2: ἀνδρῶν δ’ ἐουσέων τοσουτέων μυριάδων κάλλεός τε εἵνεκα καὶ μεγάθεος οὺδεὶς αὐτῶν ἀξιονικότερος ἦν αὐτοῦ Ξέρξεω ἔχειν τοῦτο τὸ κράτος; 9.25.1: ὁ δὲ νεκρὸς ἦν θέης ἄξιος μεγάθεος εἵνεκα καὶ κάλλεος (on Masistius); 9.96.2: κάλλεΐ <τε> καὶ μεγάθεϊ ὑπερφέρων Περσέων (on Tigranes). 149 Cf. the xenia of the Spartan king Agesilaus with the Persian satrap Mausolus and the fusion policies of Alexander. On Spartan external relations, see above, pp. 196–7 and n. 87. 150 See Hdt. 5.32: στρατηγὸν δὲ τούτων ἀπέδεξε Μεγαβάτην ἄνδρα Πέρσην τῶν Ἀχαιμενιδέων, ἑωυτοῦ τε καὶ Δαρείου ἀνεψιόν, τοῦ Παυσανίης ὁ Κλεομβρότου Λακεδαιμόνιος, εἰ δὴ ἀληθής γέ ἐστι ὁ λόγος, ὑστέρῳ χρόνῳ τούτων ἡρμόσατο θυγατέρα, ἔρωτα σχὼν τῆς Ἑλλάδος τύραννος γενέσθαι; 8.3.2: ὡς γὰρ διωσάμενοι τὸν Πέρσην περὶ τῆς ἐκείνου ἤδη τὸν ἀγῶνα ἐποιεῦντο, πρόφασιν τὴν Παυσανίεω ὕβριν προϊσχόμενοι ἀπείλοντο τὴν ἡγεμονίην τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους. Note, however, the cautious phrasing in both passages: εἰ δὴ ἀληθής γε ἐστι ὁ λόγος “if the story is true” (5.32); πρόφασιν “excuse” (8.3.2). On this, cf. also Flower and Marincola 2002: 12–13. Pre-battle Speeches 275 the Thucydidean τυραννὶς (1.95.3: καὶ τυραννίδος μᾶλλον ἐφαίνετο μίμησις ἢ στρατηγία), and Pausanias is said to develop an autocratic and pretentious attitude, to secretly communicate with the Persians, and to espouse their way of life. In light of Pausanias’ future career, the reader can sense the irony in Herodotus’ account. The incident of the banquet brings the ironic strain to a climax as it points to Thucydides’ report that Pausanias held banquets in the Persian way (1.130.1)—that is, he did the same thing he now laughingly mocks (Hdt. 9.82.3: γελάσαντα). The Herodotean banquet of Pausanias, so far as it involves Greek and barbarian customs, may be further evocative of the Homeric scene of food sharing between Achilles and Priam in Iliad 24. But whereas the Iliadic scene mitigates the differences between the two enemies, or the self and the other, in the Histories the different kinds of meals become the means to juxtapose Greeks and barbarians. Dialogically interacting with Homer, the passage of the Histories sharpens the antithesis all the more by bringing an interesting twist to a motif traditionally used to bring people closer. Pausanias is not like his Homeric counterpart, Achilles. Or he is, but in a very different way, as he has a Persian table set for himself—the world has changed and this is no indication of humanity any more but of betrayal. Pausanias’ complex portrayal helps Herodotus negotiate both the Greek vs. barbarian and the Greek vs. Greek contrast. A thought-provoking interplay between Spartan and Athenian attitudes is generated with both Sparta and Athens interchangeably appropriating the role of the ‘self’ as well as that of the ‘other’. We have seen how this works with Sparta. Regarding Athens, its attitude towards the end of the work looks increasingly similar to that of the Persians. The unjust and barbarian behaviour of the Athenians151 both dis- tances them from and brings them closer to the Spartans. The Athenian attitude would strike Herodotus’ readers, contemporary with the Peloponnesian War, as extremely familiar particularly in the case of the Athenians slaughter- ing whole populations. But Sparta, despite its acting as liberator from Athens, slaughtered populations too (e.g. the destruction of Plataea). For Herodotus, Sparta and Athens are not that different, either from each other or from Persia.

4.4.4 Instantiating Greek Disunity: The Tegean-Athenian Debate Before the battle of Plataea officially starts, the Athenians engage the Persian cavalry at Erythrae, defeat the Persians, and kill their commander, Masistius

151 Cf. the Athenians besieging Sestos, crucifying the Persian Artaÿctes and stoning to death his son (9.114–21) to the Peloponnesians retiring to Greece (9.104.2) and Pausanias sparing the lives of the sons of Attaginus, a Theban medizer. 276 CHAPTER 4

(9.19.3–24). The incident raises the confidence of the Greeks, who move down to Plataea—a much more suitable place as it provided a better supply of water—and set up camp next to the spring of Gargaphia. There they take up battle positions (9.25). During the battle formation, a dispute breaks out between the Tegeans and the Athenians over the command of the left wing— the right wing belonged to the Spartans as army leaders. Both the Tegeans and Athenians put forward illustrious feats from the distant and recent past, but the Spartans vote in favour of the Athenians (9.26–28.1). The debate is the first in a series of narrative delays that hold back the battle of Plataea and build up the suspense.152 This intriguing piece of rhetoric serves numerous functions in Herodotus’ narrative agenda. The Tegeans and Athenians openly compete for pre-eminence in a way that foreshadows later intra-Hellenic conflicts. The employment of epideictic arguments, notably— but not only—in the Athenian speech, against fellow Greeks best exemplifies the weakness of the Greek coalition. At the same time, other elements tend to present the debate as a trial, thus sharpening the sense of inter-Greek antagonism. At this point, instead of a battle against the Persians and a literal ὠθισμὸς, we get a metaphorical ὠθισμὸς, a contest of words (λόγων πολλῶν ὠθισμός) (9.26.1). The Tegeans first recall their fight against the Heraclids, the ancestors of the Spartan royal houses (9.26.2–5).153 These had been exiled from the Peloponnese but attempted to return after the death of king Eurystheus. The Tegeans, together with the Achaeans and the Ionians of the Peloponnese, marched to the Isthmus to meet the Heraclids. The leader of the latter, Hyllus, suggested that the matter be settled not by a clash of the armies but by a duel between him and the best Peloponnesian fighter. Both sides accepted the proposal and swore that, if Hyllus won, the Heraclids would be allowed to come back to the land of their fathers, but, if he was defeated, they would retire and not return to the Peloponnese for a hundred years. The Tegean Echemus was chosen to fight Hyllus, and eventually killed him. In recognition of this service, the Tegeans have enjoyed several privileges since, among which is the leadership of one of the wings in Peloponnesian expeditions. The argument recalls a past when the Greeks were seeking precedence and populations were relocating. Fighting and conquering the Spartan ancestors does not inspire any unified action either. It rather separates the Spartans especially from the Tegeans but also from the rest of the Peloponnesians, Achaeans, and Ionians. The Tegeans’ claim for precedence might make sense in a narrow

152 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 6–7. 153 On the Heraclids, see above, pp. 206–7 and n. 123. Pre-battle Speeches 277 context involving expeditions against other Greeks—though this is a further hint of old and current Greek fights. Their claim, however, becomes quite problematic in the context of the Persian Wars. How legitimate is the use of a prior success over fellow Greeks (the present Spartan leaders of the Greek army) as an argument for superiority in a fight which requires the Greeks to cooperate? The use of the mythological paradigm is yet more intriguing as it invites connections with the current situation of the Peloponnesians. Then, as now, the Peloponnesians faced an invader and the Isthmus provided a line of defence. They are now obsessed with protecting the Peloponnese, speeding up the building of a wall across the Isthmus, and completing it sometime before the battle at Plataea. If we push the comparison further, the Heraclids of the past may in fact appear as the Persians of the present—an additional link between Spartans and Persians in the Histories. The fight against the Heraclids then operates, in narratological terms, as a sort of mise en abyme—a small picture, that is, which reflects a larger picture within which it is embedded—154to which the Plataea narrative gives a twist: soon enough Mardonius challenges the Spartans to a duel which would decide the winner of the war or inaugurate the conflict between the Greek and Persian armies (9.48). Mardonius’ invitation alludes to the Spartan preference for duels (9.26.3: μουνομαχῆσαι; 9.26.5: ἐμουνομάχησέ), which he now appropriates because fear of the Persians, so he claims, keeps the Spartans from making such a suggestion (9.48.3).155 Whereas in the past the Heraclids took the initiative to propose a duel, now their Spartan offspring give no response to the Persian challenge (9.49.1). Rather than indicating a change in Spartan nature, this may of course point to practical, strategic considerations, or it may even be a typical case of both Spartan and heroic silence.156 Ironically, in the end the Spartans do face the Persians alone, with the help of the Tegeans (9.61.2: οὕτω δὴ μουνωθέντες Λακεδαιμόνιοι καὶ Τεγεῆται). So Mardonius nearly gets what he wanted and things work out between the Spartans and the Tegeans, despite their prior hostility and the fact that the latter are not allocated leadership of the left wing. Those who met in single combat before meet now joined against the barbarian enemy also in single combat. The mythical mini-narrative thus both parallels and juxtaposes the present with the past.

154 For the technique of mise en abyme in literature, see Prince 1987: 53; Dällenbach 1989. For Greek historiography, see Walker 1993. 155 προσδεκόμενοι γὰρ κατὰ κλέος ὡς δὴ πέμψετε ἐς ἡμέας κήρυκα προκαλεύμενοι καὶ βουλόμενοι μούνοισι Πέρσῃσι μάχεσθαι, ἄρτιοι ἐόντες ποιέειν ταῦτα οὐδὲν τοιοῦτο λέγοντας ὑμέας εὕρομεν ἀλλὰ πτώσσοντας μᾶλλον. νῦν ὦν ἐπειδὴ οὐκ ὑμεῖς ἤρξατε τούτου τοῦ λόγου, ἀλλ᾽ ἡμεῖς ἄρξομεν. 156 On Spartan silence, see above, pp. 64–77. 278 CHAPTER 4

The second argument of the Tegeans relates to their ἀξιονικία (worth/valour) and is buttressed by a historical paradigm. The Tegeans are more worthy than the Athenians of holding this position due to the victorious battles they have fought against Sparta and other cities in recent times.157 This statement does not spell out what these fights are and may be a rhetorical trick to aggran- dize the deeds of the Tegeans without being specific. On the other hand, these fights may have been so well-known that there was no need to repeat them. In all probability the Tegeans allude to their fights against the Spartans related in book 1. Tegea is distinctively recorded as the only city which defeated the Spartans (1.65.1), who, in order to conquer Arcadia, sought advice from the oracle at Delphi. The Spartans misread the prophecy though, turned exclusively against Tegea and lost the fight (1.66). They kept on losing their battles against the Tegeans until, instructed by another Delphic oracle, they discovered the bones of Orestes, the son of Agamemnon, at Tegea and transported them back to Sparta (around 560 b.c.).158 From then on, the Spartans were always successful in their fights with the Tegeans (1.67–8). If these are the fights the Tegeans intend to call to mind, we are invited to think that the Tegeans were more powerful than the Spartans, and this would have continued had it not been for Orestes’ bones. The Tegean argument boils down to the following: “We even defeated you, Spartans, who are the best; therefore we are better than you and we deserve this place in the battle”. Moreover, Herodotus’ text provides us with the only indication of hostility between Sparta and Tegea before the Persian Wars (9.37.4: Τεγέην, ἐοῦσαν οὐκ ἀρθμίην Λακεδαιμονίοισι τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον),159 while there is another, this time a proleptic indication of hostility between the two cities (9.35.2: a battle the Spartans fought later, 473–70 b.c., at Tegea against the Tegeans and Argives). In the present circumstances, the only compromise the Tegeans are able to make for the sake of unity is to recognize the leadership of the Spartans and their right to choose whichever wing they prefer; however, the Spartans must

157 See Hdt. 9.26.7: πολλοὶ μὲν γὰρ καὶ εὖ ἔχοντες πρὸς ὑμέας ἡμῖν, ἄνδρες Σπαρτιῆται, ἀγῶνες ἀγωνίδαται, πολλοὶ δὲ καὶ πρὸς ἄλλους. 158 On the bones of Orestes, see above, p. 206. 159 Macan (1908b: 674) is sceptical arguing that “if Tegea was at war with Lakedaimon before the Persian invasion, of which no other record survives, then this feud should have been noticed in 7.145 as one of those composed in 481 b.c.” (together with the quarrel between Athens and Aegina). Nevertheless, this indication is not enough to make us doubt Herodotus’ comment, for at 7.145.1 Herodotus refers to “a number of such disputes at the time, the most serious being the quarrel between Athens and Aegina”; so any possible dispute between Sparta and Tegea might have still existed but not have been considered sufficiently serious. Pre-battle Speeches 279 give the other wing to the Tegeans (9.26.6).160 The accumulation of words sig- nifying opposition (9.26.6: ἀντιεύμεθα)161 and command (9.26.5: ἡγεμονεύειν; 9.26.6: ἄρχειν, ἡγεμονεύειν) acquires additional importance in view of inter- Greek rivalry. When the point should have been how the Greeks can best work together, the Tegeans make it their business to prove that they are the best among the Greeks, in particular better than the Athenians. The interweaving of past, present and future paints a robustly antagonistic picture of the relationships between Tegea and Sparta. If the Tegean speech imparts any sense of unity, this is merely Peloponnesian unity in some common ventures162 and does not always include the Spartans. The speech incorporates an implicit commentary on later clashes between the Greeks, a commentary that is sharpened in the speech of the Athenians. Significantly, the Athenian speech has a more panhellenic character and provides concrete evidence of present excellence; but the long listing of glorious feats has also the opposite effect, that of separating the Athenians from all other Greeks. The Athenians also prove their valour through the use of both mythical and historical examples, although they are very keen to fight and do not want to waste their time talking. Initially, they mention four examples from myth: Eurystheus and the return of the Heraclids, the fight at Thebes, the fight against the Amazons, and the Trojan War. Nevertheless, past deeds are not adequate in proving their superiority, as those who were brave back then may now be cowardly and, on the other hand, those who were cowardly may now be brave. So they talk about their recent victory at Marathon which proves they have always been brave and which they consider by itself sufficient to secure them the position of honour in the battle line (9.27). Pitting the Tegean against the Athenian arguments exposes the weakness of Tegean rhetoric. As the Spartans are the ones to make the final decision, priding themselves on having killed the leader of the Heraclids and preventing them from returning home does not help the Tegeans. The Athenian argument is clearly more rhetorically effective. The Athenians declare that they were the only Greeks to receive the Heraclids, when the Mycenaeans were trying to

160 ὑμῖν μέν νυν, ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, οὐκ ἀντιεύμεθα, ἀλλὰ διδόντες αἵρεσιν ὁκοτέρου βούλεσθε κέρεος ἄρχειν παρίεμεν. Cf. Flower and Marincola (2002: 151), specifically on the position of ὑμῖν: “the placement of ὑμῖν is emphatic, implying that although the Tegeans will indulge the Spartans in what they wish, they would oppose anyone else”. 161 Flower and Marincola (2002: 151) note that the word ἀντιεύμεθα advances the idea of war- like representation of the discussion introduced by the authorial ὠθισμός (9.26.1). 162 See Hdt. 9.26.2: ὅσαι ἤδη ἔξοδοι κοιναὶ ἐγένοντο Πελοποννησίοισι; 9.26.5: κοινῆς ἐξόδου γινομένης. 280 CHAPTER 4 subjugate them. Together they ended the tyranny of Eurystheus and defeated the Tegeans, who claimed to be the leaders of the Peloponnese at that time (9.27.2).163 The Athenians thus, making clever use of the kinship argument, provide a mythical precedent of Atheno-Spartan cooperation for the present war.164 In light of the Athenian-Spartan conflict after the Persian Wars and at the time of the Peloponnesian War, the external audience is expected to interpret the argument both ironically and as a call to unity, reflected in an alliance between Athens and Sparta. At the same time, the fact that the mythical example distinguishes the attitude of the Athenians from that of the rest of the Greeks points to a rather narrow concept of unity. The Athenian expedition against the Thebans to take back the bodies of the Argives who had attacked Thebes with Polyneices, and the burying of the bodies in Eleusis, demonstrate nobility and a cooperative policy— although the place of burial may indicate an Athenian attempt to appropriate Argive heroes. Furthermore, the mythical episode both recalls conflicts among the Greeks previously mentioned in the narrative (the battle between the Athenians and the Thebans and other Boetians, on account of the Athenian alliance with Plataea that was prompted by the Spartans, 6.108), and anticipates future conflicts (the Greek attack against Thebes after the battle at Plataea, 9.86) as well the tense relations between Athens and Thebes during the Pentecontaetia. The successful fight against the Amazons who invaded Attica shows Athenian bravery against a barbarian enemy. Grethlein165 notes an even closer analogy between the Amazons and the Persians as they are both reported to have come from the same river, Thermodon (9.27.4, 43.2). Still, the example of the Amazons carries some ambiguity when read against the narrative background. In the Sauromatian logos (4.110–17), Herodotus mentions that the Greeks as a group, and not just the Athenians, fought (4.110.1: ὅτε Ἕλληνες Ἀμαζόσι ἐμαχέσαντο) and defeated the barbarian Amazons. The Athenians thus appropriate a shared mythical past. In the same logos, the representation of

163 Ἡρακλείδας, τῶν οὗτοί φασι ἀποκτεῖναι τὸν ἡγεμόνα ἐν Ἰσθμῷ, τούτους πρότερον ἐξελαυνομένους ὑπὸ πάντων Ἑλλήνων ἐς τοὺς ἀπικοίατο φεύγοντες δουλοσύνην πρὸς Μυκηναίων, μοῦνοι ὑποδεξάμενοι τὴν Εὐρυσθέος ὕβριν κατείλομεν, σὺν ἐκείνοισι μάχῃ νικήσαντες τοὺς τότε ἔχοντας Πελοπόννησον. 164 Cf. also Immerwahr 1966: 215; Flower and Marincola 2002: 154. Kinship is undeniably one of the most important and readily employed arguments in all kinds of rhetorical speeches, especially those aiming at alliance, on which see ch. 3. 165 See Grethlein 2010: 177 n. 94. Pre-battle Speeches 281 the Amazons challenges the boundaries between self and other, as well as between male and female.166 Courage against the barbarians is likewise exemplified by the Athenians’ participation in the Trojan War (9.27.4: καὶ ἐν τοῖσι Τρωικοῖσι πόνοισι οὐδαμῶν ἐλειπόμεθα). This example deserves special attention, particularly because the contribution of the Athenians to that war was rather minor.167 With its brevity and vagueness, the argument may be read as a rhetorical ploy to magnify the deeds of the Athenians while evading specificity—very much like the Tegean reference to ‘many recent victorious fights’. Given its heroic and panhellenic resonances, the Trojan War myth is a favourite motif employed in political argument in Herodotus. In chapter 3 I discussed how the Spartan and Athenian messengers used this argument with Gelon, albeit unsuccessfully, in book 7. The Trojan War motif operates at multiple levels. As a collective Greek enterprise, the Trojan War adds suitably panhellenic colouring to a speech delivered in the context of a war against the Persians. It even serves Spartan complacency, since the Spartans had adopted Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks at Troy, as their king:168 in that war, the Athenians followed the Spartans, helped them and fought well. In view of the Persian Wars, the Trojan War highlights the necessity of Greek unity and stresses the present danger of Greek disunity with all this quarrelling over the command of the battle wings. The Athenians then turn to the very recent past and Marathon (9.27.5). Marathon reinforces the Athenians’ experience of fighting barbarian enemies and proves their valour on a scale much larger than the battles of the Tegeans against Greeks. It also testifies to their sacrifice for the salvation of Greece. Manipulated for the purposes of their speech, the victory at Marathon is presented as an exclusively Athenian success:

ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐν Μαραθῶνι ἔργου ἄξιοί εἰμεν τοῦτο τὸ γέρας ἔχειν καὶ ἄλλα πρὸς τούτῳ, οἵτινες μοῦνοι Ἑλλήνων δὴ μουνομαχήσαντες τῷ Πέρσῃ καὶ ἔργῳ τοσούτῳ ἐπιχειρήσαντες περιεγενόμεθα καὶ ἐνικήσαμεν ἔθνεα ἕξ τε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα. ἆρ᾽ οὐ δίκαιοί εἰμεν ἔχειν ταύτην τὴν τάξιν ἀπὸ τούτου μούνου τοῦ ἔργου; (9.27.5–6)

166 See in detail Munson 2001: 123–32. 167 See above, p. 210 n. 142. 168 On the Spartans’ philachaean policy and their connections with the Atreids, see above, pp. 206–7. 282 CHAPTER 4

Marathon alone would be enough to qualify us not only for the privilege we are claiming but for others too. Without any support from the other Greeks we stood alone against the Persians and, although we dared a mighty enterprise, we came out of it alive and defeated forty-six nations. Do we not, for this act alone, deserve the place of honour on the wing?

That Herodotus has the Athenians make this claim only ten years after the battle demonstrates the speed with which Athenian propaganda was instituted and operated. Marathon was heroized very early even if it was just the first in a series of battles against the Persians. Although Herodotus’ narrative explicitly states that the Plataeans helped the Athenians at Marathon (6.108.1), the role of the former is completely, and conveniently, forgotten in this as well as other Herodotean and Thucydidean pieces of rhetoric.169 Herodotus’ Athenians forget the Plataeans, although they now stand on Plataean ground and a part of the Plataean army is present with the Greek forces (9.28.6). Depicting Marathon as an Athenian battle and victory, moreover, turns against Sparta, whose army arrived only too late. The Athenians could boast that Marathon, by contrast to the other battles of the Persian Wars, was won without any help from the Peloponnesians. They could boast all the more on account of their being the only ones to have survived by themselves a battle against the Persians, since the Spartans at Thermopylae all perished. In these examples from the past, the praise of the Athenian nature, their commitment to panhellenic ventures, or ventures with panhellenic consequences, and the tendency to single themselves out from the rest of the Greeks are intertwined. This picture is further reinforced by the similarities that the list of Athenian exploits has with fifth- and early fourth-century epideictic speeches, especially funeral but also panegyric orations. Three of the four mythical examples (Heraclids, Theban contempt for the Argive corpses, Amazons) and Marathon170 become fixed motifs in the later tradition and

169 See Hdt. 7.10β.1 (Artabanus): οἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες λέγονται εἶναι ἄλκιμοι, πάρεστι δὲ καὶ σταθμώσασθαι, εἰ στρατιήν γε τοσαύτην σὺν Δάτι καὶ Ἀρταφρένεϊ ἐλθοῦσαν ἐς τὴν Ἀττικὴν χώρην μοῦνοι Ἀθηναῖοι διέφθειραν; 9.46.2 (Pausanias—although this most likely serves his aim to satisfy Athenian vanity without necessarily implying that he neglects the role of the Plataeans): ὑμεῖς ἐπίστασθε τοὺς Μήδους καὶ τὴν μάχην αὐτῶν ἐν Μαραθῶνι μαχεσάμενοι; Thuc. 1.73.4 (Athenians): φαμὲν γὰρ Μαραθῶνί τε μόνοι προκινδυνεῦσαι τῷ βαρβάρῳ. But Thucydides also has his Plataeans stress their contribution to the Persian Wars when addressing the Spartans (3.54.3). Although Marathon is not mentioned here, it is definitely implied as the most distinguished service of the Plataeans. 170 The Plataean help at Marathon has regularly been ignored (cf. Walters 1981; Thomas 1989: 221). The only non-historiographical text that refers to the participation of the Plataeans Pre-battle Speeches 283 are treated at greater length, as seen in Thucydides,171 Lysias, Demosthenes, Isocrates, Hypereides and Plato’s Menexenus.172 The compassion for the weak and oppressed and the representation of the Athenians as benefactors of all Greece that these and other mythical and historical exempla reflect are two particular Athenian qualities also emphasized in fifth-century tragedy.173 Athenian championship is evidently linked to leadership, and represents an attempt to put Athens forward as leader of Greece after the Persian Wars and in the context of the fight for supremacy against Sparta. The inclusion of both past and present deeds creates a sense of continuity and consistent performance throughout time, while at the same time bestowing mythical and heroic dimensions on recent historical events.174 In epideictic—as well as in deliberative and, to a less extent, forensic— speeches, mythical and historical events are tampered with and adapted to suit certain contexts and purposes, political and/or literary. Despite the conventions of the genre and its largely unchanged form from the fifth through to the fourth century b.c., funeral speeches are no exception and present us with several variations of traditional motifs.175 Herodotus operates under

in the battle at Marathon is Dem. 59.94: Πλαταιῆς γάρ, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, μόνοι τῶν Ἑλλήνων ὑμῖν ἐβοήθησαν Μαραθῶνάδε (this is probably taken from Thucydides 3.54.3, as noted by Thomas 1989: 202 n. 19). 171 On the relationship between Thucydides and the funeral orations, see Ziolkowski 1981. 172 On epideictic topics, see e.g. Maass 1887: 589–90 n. 1; Solmsen 1944: 248; Walters 1981: 204–5; Loraux 1986: 67; Thomas 1989: 206–13 (esp. pp. 211–12); Flower and Marincola 2002: 152–4. On the relation between Herodotus and Lysias and Isocrates, see Nouhaud 1982: 118–20. Specifically on the Athenian speech under scrutiny here, see Boardman (1982: 6): “Herodotus, then, is our first evidence for this group of myth-historical deeds which were to be regularly repeated by later encomiasts of Athens and writers of funeral orations, real or imaginary”; Flower and Marincola (2002: 152): “The Athenian speech here anticipates the formal and highly developed Athenian funeral oration (ἐπιτάφιος λόγος) of the fifth and early fourth centuries”. 173 See e.g. Eur. Supp. 576–7. Also evident in the titles and themes of tragedies such as Euripides’ Suppliants and Heraclids, and Sophocles’ Oedipus at Colonus. 174 A similar kind of political propaganda is reflected in art through the use of mythical themes. The most typical and obvious example of this trend is the Stoa Poikile in Athens, which represents mythical next to recent conflicts (see Buxton 1994: 61–2; cf. also Hall 1989: 68–9). 175 On manipulation of mythical and historical examples in epideictic, deliberative and, briefly, forensic oratory, see most recently Grethlein 2010: 105–45. On manipulation of funeral motifs and innovation in the epitaphios, see Thomas 1989: 206–13; Loraux 1986: 65–72. On the use of myth as political argument in oratory, see Buxton 1994: 193–8; Calame 1999: 125–36 (esp. on Isocrates); cf. also Tyrrell (1984: 15): “Funeral oratory 284 CHAPTER 4 comparable principles of selectivity when he incorporates the Trojan War in the Athenian list but excludes Athenian autochthony. Only rarely do we encounter any mention of the Trojan War in the long cor- pus of epideictic oratory that has come down to us. And when a speech makes such a reference, it most often ends up rejecting it, considering the Trojan War inferior to the Persian Wars.176 In his Samian funeral oration, Pericles makes a similar comparison between the Trojan and Samian Wars, as reported by Plutarch, who quotes Ion of Chios in his Pericles: “Ion says that he [i.e. Pericles] had the most astonishingly great thoughts of himself for having subjected the Samians; whereas it took Agamemnon ten years to capture a barbarian city, he had in nine months time reduced the foremost and most powerful people of Ionia” (Per. 28.5). This comment is very much in line with Pericles’ remark in Thucydides’ funeral oration: “we do not need the praises of a Homer” (2.41.4). Such an attitude seems quite strange because the Trojan/Persian War analogy was very popular after the Persian Wars, as seen especially in public monuments. Simonides’ Plataea elegy (the only piece of literary evidence dated so close to the Persian Wars) also compares the Greeks who participated in the battle of Plataea with those who fought at Troy. Part of the ‘Eion poem’ (‘Simonides’ fge xl), inscribed on three herms in the Athenian agora and dated a few years after the battle of Plataea, likens the Athenians who laid siege to the Persians in Thrace with the Greeks who fought at Troy.177

distorted and falsified mythical and historical events; it created a myth, a reality of words, which explained aggression as assistance and altruism and which transformed isolation from that of a tyrannical city into the desertion of Athenians by other Greeks, a desertion which left them the solitary defenders of the common cause”. The case of the Amazons is an indicative example of myth manipulation shaped by historical events: Theseus and the rape of an Amazon were forgotten, and the Persian Wars, or even the Ionian revolt, might have inspired Theseus’ expedition against the Amazons, their subsequent invasion of Attica and their repulse by Theseus (on the Amazons, see Boardman 1982: 6, 12–14, 27; Tyrrell 1984). 176 E.g. Dem. 60.10–11: τοσούτῳ γὰρ ἀμείνους τῶν ἐπὶ Τροίαν στρατευσαμένων νομίζοιντ᾽ ἂν εἰκότως, ὅσον οἱ μὲν ἐξ ἁπάσης τῆς Ἑλλάδος ὄντες ἀριστεῖς δέκ᾽ ἔτη τῆς Ἀσίας ἓν χωρίον πολιορκοῦντες μόλις εἷλον, οὗτοι δὲ τὸν ἐκ πάσης τῆς ἠπείρου στόλον ἐλθόντα μόνοι, τἄλλα πάντα κατεστραμμένον, οὐ μόνον ἠμύναντο, ἀλλὰ καὶ τιμωρίαν ὑπὲρ ὧν τοὺς ἄλλους ἠδίκουν ἐπέθηκαν. Isocrates has it both ways in his Panegyricus, when at one point he uses the Trojan War to contrast it to, and highlight the valiant Athenian performance in, the Persian Wars (4.83), and at another to rouse panhellenic feelings and incite the Greeks to attack the barbarians (4.158–9). 177 See esp. part A of the poem: “Once from this city Menestheus with the sons of Atreus went as leader to the holy plain of Troy; Homer once said that, of the stout-corseleted Danaans, he was outstanding as marshal in battle. So it is not unseemly that Athenians be called Pre-battle Speeches 285

There may be several answers as to why the Trojan War is played down in epideictic rhetoric. Thomas makes the suggestion that “[p]erhaps it [i.e. the Trojan War] was much used before the Persian Wars but became redundant after they provided a more telling example”.178 This might partly explain Herodotus’ passing and vague reference to the Athenian contribution to the Trojan War. Another challenging explanation is put forward by Loraux,179 who links the marginalization of the Trojan War to its panhellenic resonances, which were clearly out of place when Athens plainly started demonstrating hegemonic tendencies. At the same time, Loraux180 reads in this an indication of competition between epideictic speeches and epideictic tradition that deemed necessary the praise of Menestheus, and criticism thereof. Herodotus may be working along similar lines. That is, he may be insert- ing a reference to the Trojan War in order to lend the speech the panhellenic colouring that was absent from other funeral speeches.181 In conjunction with a critical stance towards epideictic rhetoric, which will be considered more closely in the Conclusion, the collective enterprise of the Trojan War tallies well with the broad panhellenic perspective of Herodotus’ narrative, his fondness for myth in general and as an argument in politics in particular,182 as well as with his tendency to draw connections between the Trojan and Persian Wars.183 Besides this, at the time of the text and before Plataea, Athens is not

marshals in war and manliness. They too were of steadfast heart who once at Eion on the waters of the Strymon subjected the sons of the Medes to fiery hunger and chilling Ares”. On the widespread Trojan War parallel, see Boedeker 2001a: 124–6 with notes. 178 See Thomas 1989: 212. 179 See Loraux 1986: 69–72. 180 See Loraux 1986: 70. 181 Cf. Loraux 1986: 72. Note esp.: “We might detect in the text some indication that Herodotus is intervening in order to alter an already established tradition. The same can be said of the austere brevity with which the Athenians allude to this collective exploit, just before rejecting the validity of those catalogues of noble deeds. Mentioned at the end of the list, this theme is treated with discretion, not to say reticence; between the oudamon eleipo- metha (’we gave in to no one’) and the insistence with which Athens claims the honor of defeating the Amazons, there is perhaps a gap between the acceptable treatment of a theme and a heterogeneous addition”. 182 See e.g. the use of Agamemnon by the Spartan Syagrus in his speech to Gelon (7.159); the Cretans’ refusal to participate in the Greek alliance because the Greeks did not help them to take revenge on the murder of Minos, although the Cretans helped the Greeks to avenge the abduction of Helen (7.169); Decelea’s privileged treatment by the Spartans on account of the help the Deceleans offered the Tyndarids when they revealed to them where Theseus had hidden Helen (9.73). 183 E.g. in his prologue and elsewhere. 286 CHAPTER 4 yet the super-power it has become by the time of Herodotus; hence a reference to the Trojan War seems quite apt. Another striking variation is the omission of one of the major myths of Athenian identity, autochthony,184 which belongs to the customary themes of epideictic speeches. Closely linked to Athenian civic ideology and pride, autochthony was potentially a very strong argument for the Athenians. But Herodotus’ Athenians, rhetorically adept as they are, skip this topos because it would not strengthen their case for superiority against the Arcadian Tegeans who are also indigenous (Hdt. 8.73.1; cf. Thuc. 1.2.3).185 The use of the word ‘Arcadians’ (9.27.1: Ἀρκάσι) for the Tegeans in the Athenian speech may possibly hint at the autochthony motif. Pelling186 traces another potential hint in the phrase “those who at that time were occupying the Peloponnese” (9.27.2), which implies constant migrations by contrast to the Athenians having always occupied the same land. Affinities between the Athenian speech and the Athenian epitaphic tradition can be detected even in terms of phrasing. The Athenians find it necessary to indicate the grounds upon which they, who have always distinguished themselves, claim precedence over the Arcadians as their proper heritage (9.27.1).187 Both the ‘speaking under necessity’188 and the desire always to be the first are typical topoi of the funeral speech.189 Apart from a reflection of Athens’ depiction in the funeral orations as πρόμαχος, Flower and Marincola190 consider the desire to be the first in battle as an indication of prominence over all the rest in every respect. The contrast between λόγος and ἔργον that opens up the Athenian speech191—and is reinforced by its ending—192also echoes a popular epideictic theme. Very much like the orators, Herodotus’ Athenians criticize speaking

184 On Athenian autochthony, see also above, p. 210 and n. 141. 185 Cf. also Rosivach 1987: 305 n. 40; Thomas 2000: 118; Loraux 2000: 43 (on autochthony rivalry between Athens and Arcadia). 186 See Pelling 2009: 481 n. 29. 187 ἀναγκαίως ἡμῖν ἔχει δηλῶσαι πρὸς ὑμέας ὅθεν ἡμῖν πατρώιόν ἐστι ἐοῦσι χρηστοῖσι αἰεὶ πρώτοισι εἶναι μᾶλλον ἢ Ἀρκάσι. 188 Cf. also Thuc. 1.73.2: τὰ δὲ Μηδικὰ καὶ ὅσα αὐτοὶ ξύνιστε, εἰ καὶ δι᾽ ὄχλου μᾶλλον ἔσται αἰεὶ προβαλλομένοις, ἀνάγκη λέγειν. 189 See Solmsen 1944: 249; Loraux 1986: 68, 89–90; Flower and Marincola 2002: 153. 190 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 153–4 (with Homeric parallels). 191 See Hdt. 9.27.1: ἐπιστάμεθα μὲν σύνοδον τήνδε μάχης εἵνεκα συλλεγῆναι πρὸς τὸν βάρβαρον, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ λόγων. 192 See Hdt. 9.27.6: ἀλλ᾽ οὐ γὰρ ἐν τῷ τοιῷδε τάξιος εἵνεκα στασιάζειν πρέπει, ἄρτιοί εἰμεν πείθεσθαι ὑμῖν, ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι. Pre-battle Speeches 287 on such a critical occasion.193 However, unlike the orators, who find it hard to use words to describe such great deeds, in Herodotus the deprecation of words runs differently: the Athenians do find the appropriate words to describe their deeds but consequently dismiss the whole debate because it inhibits the immediate action that needs to be taken. In that sense, the Athenian phrase may be read like the sort of hard-headed thing said by speakers in Thucydides, notably the Athenians at Melos (5.89) and the Thebans at Plataea (3.67.6–7). The Athenian deprecation of mythical arguments and the preponderance of the present over the past194 finds parallels in some epideictic and deliberative speeches,195 although it opposes the general gist of epideictic oratory and, as we shall see in the Conclusion, is itself indicative of criticism against current rhetorical practices. Thucydides offers some nice historiographical ana- logues. In the funeral oration, Pericles very swiftly passes over the praise of the ancestors and their autochthony—omitting the commonplace legendary Athenian exploits—because he does not want to repeat long stories which the audience knows already (2.36.4: μακρηγορεῖν ἐν εἰδόσιν οὐ βουλόμενος ἐάσω). The Trojan War is rejected by Pericles in a similar spirit: “we do not need the praises of a Homer or anyone else whose words may delight us for the moment, but whose estimation of facts will fall short of what is really true” (2.41.4). The Athenians raise the same point when, in a deliberative speech at Sparta, they doubt the employment of past stories in the absence of eyewitness accounts.196 Accordingly, they omit mythical accounts but they nevertheless refer to the Persian Wars—by contrast to Pericles—although they admit that the audience should be by now tired of listening to the same story over and over again.197 The past-present contrast also surfaces in Thucydides’ Plataean debate, albeit with reference to historical events: the Spartans are completely uninterested

193 See Loraux 1986: 232–8. 194 See Hdt. 9.27.4–5: ἀλλ᾽ οὐ γάρ τι προέχει τούτων ἐπιμεμνῆσθαι· καὶ γὰρ ἂν χρηστοὶ τότε ἐόντες ὡυτοὶ νῦν ἂν εἶεν φλαυρότεροι καὶ τότε ἐόντες φλαῦροι νῦν ἂν εἶεν ἀμείνονες. παλαιῶν μέν νυν ἔργων ἅλις ἔστω “However, there is not much point in recalling all this ancient history; for people who were brave once might easily have deteriorated today, just as people who in old times were nothing to speak of might by now have improved. So let us leave ancient history out of it”. 195 See e.g. Dem. 60.8–11. 196 See Thuc. 1.73.2: Καὶ τὰ μὲν πάνυ παλαιὰ τί δεῖ λέγειν, ὧν ἀκοαὶ μᾶλλον μάρτυρες ἢ ὄψις τῶν ἀκουσομένων; On the similarities between this Athenian speech and the tradition of the funeral oration, see de Romilly 1963: 258–62. 197 See Thuc. 1.73.2: τὰ δὲ Μηδικὰ καὶ ὅσα αὐτοὶ ξύνιστε, εἰ καὶ δι᾽ ὄχλου μᾶλλον ἔσται αἰεὶ προβαλλομένοις, ἀνάγκη λέγειν. 288 CHAPTER 4 in the aid they received from the Plataeans in the distant past and concerned with the current war only (3.53–68). In Herodotus, the dismissal of myth is cleverly embedded in a speech that in fact dismisses its very deliverance (the Athenians are here to fight and not to talk: 9.27.1), and achieves a range of diverse effects. First, the Athenians shatter the Tegeans’ only concrete argument, their mythical defeat of the Heraclids, upon which their whole speech is actually built. Second, the Athenians have it both ways in their appeal to and rejection of myth in favour of the recent past; and in both cases they cut a better figure than the Tegeans.198 Then the Athenians draw attention to the magnitude of their enterprise at Marathon. This statement could perhaps even turn against the Spartans themselves: a gap is visible between reputation (past) and reality (present) exemplified by the actions of the Spartans in the Plataea narrative who, by contrast to their renown, give no response to Mardonius’ suggestion for a duel (9.48–49.1), change wings with the Athenians (9.46–7), and retreat with the rest of the Greeks (9.51–7).199 In the dispute there is another rhetorical strand running parallel to the epideictic; a forensic one. Introducing the debate, Herodotus makes use of the verb παραφέρω ‘bring forward’ (9.26.1: καὶ καινὰ καὶ παλαιὰ παραφέροντες ἔργα), a word which can be found in forensic contexts.200 More importantly, the notion of justice features in both the Tegean201 and Athenian speeches.202 The speech of the Athenians is designed as an attack on the speech of the Tegeans, picking up quite a few of their points and echoing some of their vocabulary,203 and holds them responsible for starting this competition of deeds. The whole scene is set up like a trial, with both parties producing evidence and the Spartans playing the role of the judge in settling the dispute. The court imagery contributes to painting a picture of hostile relations among the Greeks while it

198 Note that the phrase παλαιά τε καὶ καινά (9.27.1) at the beginning of the Athenian speech neatly echoes in reverse order the last phrase of the Tegean speech οὔτ’ ὦν καινά οὔτε παλαιά (9.26.7). This final phrase of the Tegeans creates a ring-composition with the start of their speech καὶ τὸ παλαιὸν καὶ τὸ νέον (9.26.2), which in turn repeats the authorial comment that introduces the dispute: καὶ καινὰ καὶ παλαιὰ παραφέροντες ἔργα (9.26.1). 199 Cf. Grethlein 2010: 179–81. 200 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 148 (they cite Antiphon 3.4.8 and Lysias F 350). 201 See Hdt. 9.26.7: “it is only fair (δίκαιον) for us to have the second wing rather than the Athenians”. 202 See Hdt. 9.27.6: “is it not fair for us (δίκαιοί εἰμεν) to hold this post for that one feat alone?” 203 E.g. words implying solitary action: μουνομαχῆσαι (9.26.3), ἐμουνομάχησέ (9.26.5)—μοῦνοι (9.27.5), μουνομαχήσαντες (9.27.5), μούνου (9.27.6). Pre-battle Speeches 289 brings to mind its Thucydidean equivalent, the forensic rhetoric of the debate between the Thebans and Plataeans in front of the Spartans.204 The speech of the Athenians convinces the Spartans to grant them the position of honour and the closing of the debate is presented like the end of a battle, elaborating on the idea of bickering among the Greeks sustained throughout the scene:205 “and that is how the Athenians gained the wing and got the better of the Tegeans” (9.28.1: οὕτω δὴ ἔσχον οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι καὶ ὑπερεβάλοντο τοὺς Τεγεήτας). By pointing out that they should not procrastinate as they have a battle at hand, and by showing eagerness to follow any Spartan order (9.27.1, 6), the Athenians demonstrate both their concern for Greek unity and their rationality. They also demonstrate their rhetorical skill in tailoring their argumentation to their audience: they address Spartans, who hate speeches and love action. The debate, the delay in the battle formation, and the rhetorical victory of the Athenians—all of these prove trivial in the end. The Athenians, despite their illustrious record, end up facing the Theban medizers,206 whereas it is the Tegeans (honourably positioned next to the Spartans in recognition of their valour, 9.28.3) and Spartans that fight the Persians. As the Athenians play no further active role in the battle, a chief purpose of the Athenian speech is to honour the Athenians before they disappear into the background. And since Plataea is reported as a Spartan victory (9.64.1), this is the most appropriate point to recall Marathon, the greatest Athenian victory in the Persian Wars. Interpreted in this way, the aim of the Athenian speech resembles that of Pericles’ funeral oration: just as the funeral speech becomes Pericles’ own epitaphios, the Athenian speech becomes their own honourable farewell. In paying tribute to Athens, the speech complements the function of the description of the defeat of Masistius’ cavalry and his killing by the Athenians under the command of Olympiodorus (9.19.3–24).207 A range of Homeric

204 For a discussion of the forensic nature of this Thucydidean debate, see Macleod 1983: 103–22. 205 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 158; cf. also above, p. 276 on ὠθισμὸς. 206 Still the Athenians found ways to turn their victory over the Thebans at Plataea to their own advantage. They connected that victory to their mythical fight against the Thebans to claim back the bodies of the Seven and promoted it (also in public monuments) as part of their post-Persian War propaganda (cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 28–9). 207 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 29. Note also that, when the Athenians face Masistius’ cavalry, they take position πρὸ τῶν ἄλλων τῶν παρεόντων Ἑλλήνων (Hdt. 9.22.1), which Flower and Marincola (2002: 142) take to signify both ‘in front of’ and ‘on behalf of’ all the other Greeks. Macan (1908b: 645) suggests that the heroic deed of Olympiodorus had probably not taken place when the dispute for precedence arose, since the Athenians do not refer 290 CHAPTER 4 echoes in these two scenes cast the Athenian performance in an epic, and therefore heroic, register that somewhat compensates for their lesser role in the Iliad, and by extension at Plataea.208 Homeric associations, corroborated by the reference to the Trojan War in the Athenian speech, feed into the Homeric overtones that enrich the Plataea narrative and also balance the Homeric overtones of representations of Spartans in both the Histories and Simonides’ Plataea elegy.209 Herodotus starts his account of the battle at Plataea with a pre-battle debate that reflects the difficulty of the Greeks in working together towards a common goal and is suggestive of later inter-state conflicts.210 The debate recalls the dramatic contest of words, the agon,211 while the Athenians explicitly connect it to epideictic oratory when they call it a ‘display’ of deeds.212 In a fine blending of epideictic and forensic strata, mythical and historical arguments, as well as literary and heroic intertexts, Herodotus presents us with intense inter-Greek competition for supremacy, where Tegea and especially Athens set themselves apart from the rest of the Greeks. Examples from the past are liable to variable degrees of manipulation,213 with the Athenian full-blown list of epideictic topoi suitably entangling feats with panhellenic repercussions. That the Spartans recognize the preeminence of the Athenians against the Tegeans shows that they realize the need for them and the Athenians to consolidate if they are to succeed and confirms Athenian primacy over the rest of the Greeks. This is a fitting way to commence the narrative of the final battle against the Persians in mainland Greece, a narrative that closes with the Greeks striving to

to this at all. But, on the other hand, the incident was very recent for the Athenians to need to refresh their audience’s memory. 208 On the Homeric echoes, see Flower and Marincola 2002: 142–5. 209 On epic colouring in the Plataea narrative, see Boedeker 2001a: 122; Flower and Marincola 2002: 201–2; Pelling 2006b: 98–100. 210 Pelling 2009: 481 n. 29: “It remains striking that the passages that most recall epitaphios- rhetoric both in different ways suggest the internal Greek rivalries that will become so destructive: both cities’ claims partly rest on their successes against other Greeks”. 211 The Athenians will not fall short of both old and new deeds, complying to the rules of the competition the Tegeans set: ἐπεὶ δὲ ὁ Τεγεήτης προέθηκε (9.27.1). Flower and Marincola (2002: 153) note that “the verb [i.e. προέθηκε] is commonly used of ‘setting up’ contests” and cite the following examples: Eur. Med. 546: . . . ἅμιλλαν γὰρ σὺ προύθηκας λόγων; Thuc. 3.67.6: οὐ λόγων τοὺς ἀγῶνας προθήσοντες ἀλλ’ ἔργων. Note also that here, as in the dramatic agon, the winner speaks last. 212 See Hdt. 9.27.5: ἡμῖν δὲ εἰ μηδὲν ἄλλο ἐστὶ ἀποδεδεγμένον “if we had displayed no other deed”. 213 On myth manipulation in the dispute, cf. Baragwanath 2012a: 40–3. Pre-battle Speeches 291 claim a share of the victory at Plataea: they bury their dead separately, whereas others build empty tombs to pretend they had taken part in the battle (9.85). The interplay of tradition and innovation, past and present, celebratory and judicial rhetoric, helps Herodotus to throw into relief inter-Greek contention.

4.4.5 Xerxes Urging the Necessity of Persian Unity While the Persian army is stationed at Abydos and after he has sent Artabanus back to Susa, Xerxes delivers a speech of exhortation to the leading Persians (7.53). To summarize briefly, he says: “be bold and do not disgrace our ancestors; let us all be keen for we have a common and noble aim; if we defeat these brave men, we will be invincible; let us pray to the gods and cross over to Europe”. His speech is surprisingly more efficient than any other harangue in Herodotus and employs the greatest number of hortatory motifs. It would not be an exaggeration to say that it comes very close to the typical Thucydidean exhortation. This already puts the Greeks at a disadvantage and Herodotus further exploits the specific content of the speech to challenge differences between Greeks and Persians. His redrawing of national boundaries sharpens the focus on Greek disunity which is hinted at in the speech. The notion of valour stands out as the word ἀγαθός is repeated three times. The word describes the Persians who are invited to show themselves courageous (7.53.1: ἄνδρας τε γίνεσθαι ἀγαθοὺς), the noble aim of the Persians (7.53.1: ξυνὸν γὰρ πᾶσι τοῦτο ἀγαθὸν σπεύδεται), and the courage of the Greeks (7.53.2: ἐπ᾽ ἄνδρας στρατευόμεθα ἀγαθούς). Whether the second occurrence is translated as ‘noble aim’ (Penguin Classics translation) or ‘benefit’ (Oxford World’s Classics translation), the positioning of the word between the other two rather emphasizes their meaning and keeps the attention focused on the aim of the speech, that is, to inspire gallantry in the listeners. That Xerxes recognizes here the bravery of the Greeks whom the Persians should outmatch, gives a sense of respect for the rival: “for as I learn, we are attacking valiant men whom, if we defeat, no other army in the whole world will ever stand against us”.214 The phrase he employs includes other interesting elements as well. First, in acknowledging Greek courage Xerxes has taken Artabanus’ previous advice (7.10α.3, 10β.1). Then, in making use of the element of exaggeration (the Greeks are the bravest in the world) Xerxes stresses Greek valour, highlights the difficulty of the enterprise for the Persians, and expresses imperialistic sentiment—a limitless expansionism inherent in the Persian nature throughout the Histories. The mention of the great and admirable

214 See Hdt. 7.53.2: ὡς γὰρ ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι, ἐπ᾽ ἄνδρας στρατευόμεθα ἀγαθούς, τῶν ἢν κρατήσωμεν, οὐ μή τις ἡμῖν ἄλλος στρατὸς ἀντιστῇ κοτε ἀνθρώπων. 292 CHAPTER 4 achievements of the ancestors215 may be read as an allusion to the same imperialistic drive. This emphasis on domination/uniqueness is a feature Xerxes’ speech shares with Miltiades’—which dwells on Athenian exclusivity—and therefore Persia shares with Athens, albeit with a difference in scope (the world vs. Greece). There is also the importance Xerxes lays on unity. He starts the speech by saying that he collected the Persians together (7.53.1: συνέλεξα), connects the willingness of the individual to that of the group (7.53.1: ἀλλ᾽ εἷς τε ἕκαστος καὶ οἱ σύμπαντες προθυμίην ἔχωμεν), and makes it clear that the noble aim they pursue (alternatively ‘the benefits to be gained’) are common to all of them (7.53.1: ξυνὸν γὰρ πᾶσι τοῦτο ἀγαθὸν σπεύδεται). All of this is quite unexpected within the Persian political context. The Persian king does not need to ask his subjects to act as a united whole but is in a position to enforce unity and willingness by using fear and punishment (e.g. 7.103.4). But such comments on Persian collectivity bear on the lack of unity of the Greeks and the need for their alliance to keep together. We hear Xerxes implying the same thing a little later, this time more directly, in his first conversation with Demaratus: “My own belief is that all the Greeks and all the other western peoples gathered together would be insufficient to withstand the attack of my army, still more so if they are not united (μὴ ἐόντες ἄρθμιοι)” (7.101.2). The result is a neat contrast between Persian unity and Greek disunity. Xerxes’ speech is relevant to the Greeks in yet another way, in that it gives an impression of Athenian patriotic rhetoric. What Xerxes says about each individual and all the Persians together striving to achieve a common goal sounds very much like contemporary political catchwords. As mentioned earlier, it is not easy to form a precise picture of panegyric rhetoric at the time of Herodotus. Yet what we do have allows us to draw some more or less tentative conclusions. Xerxes’ speech presents affinities particularly with the Athenian epitaphios ideology: the excellence of the city/nation, the contribution of the ancestors and the obligation of the living, the intertwining of the personal and the public, are all present. Such parallels complicate the function of the speech further. Herodotus challenges Greek presumptions of national stereotypes by assigning the Persian king Greek-style rhetoric. The specifically Athenian links corroborate the comparison between Persia and Athens, and may even encourage a comparison between Xerxes’ speech and Pericles’ funeral oration in Thucydides’ History. The Persian and Athenian empires and their

215 See Hdt. 7.53.1: μὴ καταισχύνειν τὰ πρόσθε ἐργασμένα Πέρσῃσι, ἐόντα μεγάλα τε καὶ πολλοῦ ἄξια. Pre-battle Speeches 293 leaders emerge as quite similar, and Xerxes’ comment that none will resist them if they defeat the Greeks could have come just as easily from the mouth of Pericles or another Athenian leader, around the time of the Peloponnesian War. Approached from the angle of an epitaphios with its plainly Athenian imperialistic/Peloponnesian War setting, Xerxes’ speech seems in fact to strengthen the implied focus on Greek disunity. It is further suggestive that this fascinating fusion of elements of Athenian panegyric oratory, this barbarian speech that closely resembles Greek rhetoric, is delivered right at the point when the Persians are about to cross to Europe. The crossing of geographical boundaries is thus finely reflected in the crossing of cultural boundaries. Made up of commonplace motifs and reiterating themes already touched upon in his own and Mardonius’ speeches at the beginning of book 7,216 Xerxes’ speech neither adds a different dimension to the picture of the Great King nor presents him in a different light.217 The speech seems to corroborate some of Xerxes’ typical features, such as anxiety about his status and devotion to tradition, which disclose his rather weak authority.218 But it is well placed in the narrative and makes complex use of familiar Greek/Athenian motifs that both break down and reinvent national differences while concomitantly commenting on the feeble nature of Greek collectivity in multiple ways.

4.4.6 Misreading Reality: Mardonius’ Futile Exhortations With Xerxes having returned to Asia and the battle of Plataea at hand, the task to harangue the Persians falls upon Mardonius as the man in charge of the Persian army. Xerxes’ quite atypical barbarian exhortation, which significantly challenges the self/other opposition, is juxtaposed with and fittingly comple- mented by two hortatory speeches by Mardonius that work in the opposite direction and rigorously redefine the opposition. At Plataea, the Persians and Greeks face each other for ten days without engaging in battle, while the Greek numbers keep increasing. Mardonius, who proposes immediate engagement, discusses the matter with Artabazus and forces his opinion on him (9.41–42.1). He then summons the Persian commanders and the Greek officers under his service and asks them if they are aware of

216 See Hdt. 7.5.2 (Mardonius): “people will think twice in future before they invade your country”; 7.8γ.3 (Xerxes, slightly differently): “For, as I learn, there is not a city or nation in the world which will be able to withstand us once these are out of the way”. 217 I disagree with Macan (1908a: 74), who argues that Herodotus is being inconsistent here when presenting Xerxes as “brave, courteous, pious, not immodest, not insolent, not egotistic”. 218 As discussed in ch. 1. 294 CHAPTER 4 any oracles forecasting the annihilation of the Persians in Greece (9.42.1–2). As they give no response, Mardonius encourages and reassures them that they will conquer the Greeks by setting out his interpretation of a certain oracle which links Persian defeat to the sack of the sanctuary at Delphi: if they do not cause any damage to the sanctuary, they will not perish. He finally tells them to prepare everything in good order for joining battle on the following day (9.42.2–4). The promise of victory is both essential and absolutely sane in the mouth of a general who seeks to boost the morale of his soldiers.219 Their morale has been significantly weakened by the procrastination of the battle, the consistently rising numbers of Greek soldiers (9.38.2, 41.1), and the unfavourable omens received by the Persians and the Greek medizers (9.38).220 Mardonius’ argument is, however, problematic. His harangue rests on planning not to lay a hand on the temple at Delphi but the narrative reveals the empty basis of his argument; hence it cancels the value of the exhortation. At 8.39.2 we are told about an unsuccessful attack of the Persians against Delphi, which means that Mardonius misapprehends the facts and builds his encouragement on a fal- lacy. Even if one assumes that he might not know of the attack against Delphi, the ironic play is still intense, all the more so because the oracle does not pre- dict Persian victory.221 Mardonius’ subsequent exhortation to Thorax of Larissa and his two broth- ers, Eurypylus and Thrasydaeus—Thessalian medizers—reveals a similar mis- interpretation of reality (9.58.2–4): “you and Artabazus were wrong about the ‘brave’ Spartans who have run away; they and the Greeks are nothing compared to the Persians; we must chase the Greeks, capture them and make them pay for all the wrongs they have done to us”. Mardonius’ argument is only partially correct. The rest of the Greeks have run away, but not the Spartans, Tegeans and Athenians, who have merely changed position. This change he mistakes for Spartan cowardice.222 His speech encompasses a strong rebuke of the Greeks and the Spartans in particular, expressed in exaggerated and sharply sarcastic language. “You used to tell me that the Spartans are grand fighters and never run away . . . They have

219 See Hdt. 9.42.4: ὥστε ὑμέων ὅσοι τυγχάνουσι εὔνοοι ἐόντες Πέρσῃσι, ἥδεσθε τοῦδε εἵνεκα ὡς περιεσομένους ἡμέας Ἑλλήνων. 220 Note also the anxiety shared by Artabazus and the Thebans that they may soon run out of supplies at 9.41.2. 221 On this passage, see also above, pp. 163–6. 222 But cf. Macan (1908b: 720): “to believe that Mardonius represented the Spartan retirement as a φυγή would at once lower our opinion of him as a general”. Pre-battle Speeches 295 proved themselves to be nonentities after all, who used to show off before their fellow nonentities in Greece”, Mardonius says.223 This emphasis operates on three levels: it encourages the Thebans fighting with the Persians by belittling the enemy; pins down Mardonius’, and the barbarians’, lack of moderation and insight; and sets the cowardly Greeks/Spartans against the Persians, who are said to be “genuinely the best fighters in the world” (9.58.2: τοὺς ἀψευδέως ἀρίστους ἀνθρώπων μάχῃ). This final point turns the stereotyped Greco-Persian antithesis on its head: the Greeks consider the barbarians faint-hearted, an attribute they associated with their alleged effeminacy, and not the other way round. Persian exclusivity and supremacy also manifest themselves in Mardonius’ comment. For the Persians the world is the limit. Mardonius’ derisive words tie in well with his previous challenge of the Spartans to a duel where he mocks their alleged valour because of their changing wings with the Athenians to avoid facing the Persians (9.46–7):

Spartans, you are held by everyone in this part of the world to be the bravest of men. They boast that you never retreat and never break ranks, but keep to your post until you either kill your opponents or are killed yourselves (ἐκπαγλεομένων ὡς οὔτε φεύγετε ἐκ πολέμου οὔτε τάξιν ἐκλείπετε, μένοντές τε ἢ ἀπόλλυτε τοὺς ἐναντίους ἢ αὐτοὶ ἀπόλλυσθε). But this is a pack of lies, apparently (τῶν δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἦν οὐδὲν ἀληθές) . . . You are putting the Athenians out in front, while you yourselves take up a position facing mere slaves of ours. These are not actions of brave men; we have been badly deceived in your case (ταῦτα οὐδαμῶς ἀνδρῶν ἀγαθῶν ἔργα, ἀλλὰ πλεῖστον δὴ ἐν ὑμῖν ἐψεύσθημεν). Your reputation led us to expect that you would send a herald to challenge us and declare your willingness to settle the fight by taking on the Persians alone. We were prepared to accept, but instead we find you shrinking away (πτώσσοντας) from the fight rather than issuing any such challenge. (9.48.1–3)224

The truth escapes Mardonius who makes quick judgments. Herodotus sharpens Mardonius’ characterization and hones in on the shortcomings of the Persians that played a role in their defeat. The Spartans, alongside only

223 See Hdt. 9.58.2: ὑμεῖς γὰρ . . . ἐλέγετε Λακεδαιμονίους οὐ φεύγειν ἐκ μάχης, ἀλλὰ ἄνδρας εἶναι τὰ πολέμια πρώτους . . . διέδειξάν τε . . . ὅτι οὐδένες ἄρα ἐόντες ἐν οὐδαμοῖσι ἐοῦσι Ἕλλησι ἐναπεδεικνύατο. Note also the rhetorical question introducing the speech: ὦ παῖδες Ἀλεύεω, ἔτι τί λέξετε τάδε ὁρῶντες ἔρημα; (9.58.2). 224 On Mardonius’ speech at 9.48, see Flower and Marincola 2002: 193–6. 296 CHAPTER 4 the Tegeans, will eventually face the Persians alone at Plataea and they will win (9.61–4). The mention of Artabazus’ opinion at 9.58.3 suggests multiple links with the subject of Greek unity too. In his earlier discussion with Mardonius, Artabazus has proposed that they should not be drawn into battle but move into the walls of Thebes and try to bribe the leading Greeks instead (9.41.2–3). On this the Thebans also concur (9.41.4), who have already counselled Mardonius to divide the Greeks by bribery (9.2.3). At this point, Mardonius vehemently attacks Artabazus’ ‘shameful’ suggestion (9.58.3: γνώμην δειλοτάτην) and declares that he will tell Xerxes all about it. The answer to defeating the Greeks is there all along but Mardonius just cannot see it. Failing to exploit the fragility of Greek unity is one of the reasons why the Persians lost the war. If Mardonius was not overwhelmed with arrogance, he would have been able to see facts as they were: that only some of the Greeks had withdrawn and that this implied division. Yet in another sense Mardonius looks very much like the Greeks themselves: preoccupied with his personal interests (to slander Artabazus and look good in Xerxes’ eyes after having defeated the Greeks), Mardonius neglects indications of Greek disunity, more or less in the same way that the Greeks concentrate on personal expediency, which draws them apart and thus impedes their fight. For Flower and Marincola, this is “one of the most sarcastic and bitterly ironic speeches in the Histories”.225 Neither the Greeks nor the Spartans are the cowards Mardonius considers them to be. The Persians will eventually lose and it is he, and not the Greeks, who will be punished for his blindness. Mardonius will die before he is able to inform Xerxes about Artabazus’ ‘dis- graceful policy’ that could have in fact saved the day. The Persian crossing of the river Asopus straight after Mardonius’ speech (9.59.1) enhances the layers of interpretation. If the river is seen as a moral boundary, then its transgression is identified with hybris ultimately punished—this happens with Croesus crossing the Halys, Cyrus crossing the Gyndes and the Araxes, Darius crossing the Ister, Xerxes crossing the Hellespont.226 This might then be a hint of the bad ending of Mardonius and his venture. Recently however, in the context of an increasing awareness of Herodotean complexity and consequent scepticism of overly regular interpretative models, there have been doubts as to the

225 See Flower and Marincola 2002: 208. 226 On the symbolism and use of the river motif in Herodotus, see Immerwahr 1954: 28 and n. 22; Immerwahr 1966: 293–4 and nn. 162, 163. Pre-battle Speeches 297 uniformly hybristic nature of river-crossings.227 Herodotus expresses admiration for such achievements which, according to Scullion,228 indicate despotic arrogance rather than sacrilege. Either way, the crossing of the Asopus with its disastrous consequences for the Persians indicates barbarian excess, tendency to constant expansion, autocratic manners, and blindness, all of which are typically considered Persian characteristics. Pausanias is presented as Mardonius’ foil in the battle of Plataea. If we take his speech in 9.60 as the complement of Mardonius’ speech at 9.58, then there is more one can read in the harangue of the Persian general. Against a well- calculated speech that takes its audience into account, we have Mardonius’ speech that unconsciously misleads the audience in an effort to raise their spirits. The freedom vs. slavery slogan outshines Mardonius’ revenge motto, while Pausanias’ awareness of a rupture between the Greeks and of the necessity of unity is balanced against Mardonius turning a blind eye to the unique opportunity to interfere in and fuel Greek feuding. But this is only one side of the coin and we have seen the other when discussing the complex interweaving of themes in Pausanias’ exhortation.

4.4.7 Between Greece and Persia: Harmocydes of Phocis After burning Athens, Mardonius goes back to Thebes. A few days later, the Phocian general Harmocydes arrives at Thebes with one thousand hoplites to join the Persian army. Mardonius orders the Phocians to position themselves on the plain, whereupon the Persian cavalry appears and a rumour circu- lates that Mardonius plans to kill them. In these circumstances, Harmocydes exhorts his men to withstand the attack. He blames the Thessalians for what is happening, and urges his soldiers to be brave and die fighting rather than give up and endure a shameful death at the hands of barbarians (9.17.4). But after shooting a few arrows and facing the resistance of the Phocians, the Persians retire and no battle is fought (9.18).

227 See Scullion 2006: 193–6 (note esp. p. 193: “There are moreover many indications in the Histories that Herodotus regarded crossings of water-boundaries as crucial strategic and narrative junctures, but beyond that rather as intriguing tests of human ingenuity than violations of cosmic law”). Cf. Romm 2006: 187–90 (note esp. p. 190 [on Xerxes bridging the Hellespont]: “Certainly the tragic model of humankind’s relationship to the natural world, based on the idea that hubris incurs divine retribution, is present here, as it is at other points in the Histories. But present as well is Herodotus’ more progressive or sophiē- reverencing impulse”. 228 See Scullion 2006: 194. 298 CHAPTER 4

In Harmocydes’ harangue the themes of disunity and the self-other polarity intertwine in interesting ways, all the more so since the speaker is a medizer whose status is somewhere between the Greeks and the Persians. Presenting us with a picture of the huge Persian army surrounding the small Phocian, the episode functions as a mise en abyme229 which both foreshadows the last major conflict at Plataea and serves as a parallel for the Greco-Persian Wars as a whole. At the end of the address, Harmocydes draws a sharp distinction between Greeks and barbarians: “we must teach every one of them what it means for barbarians to plot the murder of Greek men” (9.17.4).230 The separation sounds quite puzzling since the Phocians are in fact on the Persian side, but becomes more meaningful if one recalls their earlier refusal to betray Greece. After the battle of Thermopylae, the Thessalians, who were on good terms with the Persians, send envoys to the Phocians, with whom they had never been friendly, to ask them for money in order to protect their country from a Persian attack. But the Phocians refuse to give in to blackmail and be readily disloyal to the common cause (8.29–30). According to Herodotus, regardless of their imperfect motives, the Phocians did not medize willingly: “the Phocians were the only people in this part of Greece who had not gone over to the Persians, and in my opinion their motive was simply and solely their hatred of Thessaly. If Thessaly had remained loyal, no doubt the Phocians would have deserted to Persia” (8.30.1–2); “not all the Phocians had gone over to Persia” (9.31); “the Phocians had, indeed, warmly embraced the Persian interest, but under compulsion and not of their free choice (οὐκ ἑκόντες ἀλλ’ ὑπ’ ἀναγκαίης)” (9.17.1).231 There emerges a tension between personal interest, inter-city fights, and the panhellenic cause that elaborates even more the competing relationships among the Greeks. The previous narrative may also give this mock battle a tellingly different twist. In 8.27–8 Herodotus relates the tricks the Phocians have used to defeat the Thessalians in the past: the whitewashed men who give the impression of an appalling apparition, scare and kill thousands of Thessalians; and the empty jars covered with soil where the Thessalian horses break their legs. The reader is led to think that it is time for the Phocians to play their own game of plotting: all this fuss and such an inspiring exhortation are for nothing. This feeling is

229 See above, p. 277 and n. 154. 230 ἀλλὰ μαθέτω τις αὐτῶν ὅτι ἐόντες βάρβαροι ἐπ᾽ Ἕλλησι ἀνδράσι φόνον ἔρραψαν. 231 Flower and Marincola (2002: 133) suggest that Harmocydes and his soldiers are those of the Phocians who did not manage to find refuge in the mountains together with the rest and were captured by the Persians (8.31–3). Pre-battle Speeches 299 corroborated by the fact that Harmocydes assumes that Thessalian intrigues lie behind the incident with the Persians.232 Herodotus gives two alternative explanations for the incident, one of which features the Thessalians, but appears quite hesitant to choose between them (οὐκ ἔχω δ’ ἀτρεκέως εἰπεῖν): either the Thessalians had asked the Persians to kill the Phocians, but the Persians, seeing the Phocian defence, were afraid that they might suffer severely and so retreated following Mardonius’ orders; or Mardonius merely wanted to test the Phocian valour (9.18.2). The message that Mardonius dispatches to the Phocians after the incident also seems to implicate the Thessalians: “you have proved yourselves brave men, quite contrary to the report I had of you” (9.18.3).233 On account of all this, it seems very likely that the episode was engineered by the Thessalians, thus providing another indication of bitterness among the Greeks. Konstan234 has noticed the affinities between the ruses of the Phocians, their fight against the allied forces of the Thessalians and the Persians, and their explicit denial of willing submission on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the Athenian nature and their attitude towards the Persians—especially as reflected in Themistocles.235 The Thessalians then are more similar to the Persians. Therefore, the quarrel between the Phocians and the Thessalians may correspond to the conflict between Greeks and barbarians. In a similar vein, the Phocian incident may also be read in the context of the defeat of the Persian cavalry by the Athenians a little later (9.20–4). The bullying attitude of the Persian cavalry complements the test the Phocians are put to (9.20), but soon the Persians are punished as the Athenians manage to kill the leader of the Persian cavalry, Masistius, and make the Persians retire. But Konstan236 also draws a different comparison that complicates things further: the Phocians and the Thessalians may represent the two contrasting sides of Themistocles (and synecdochically, we may add, of the Athenians); the Thessalians with their demand for ransom and the Phocians with their cleverness.

232 See Hdt. 9.17.4: ὦ Φωκέες, πρόδηλα γὰρ ὅτι ἡμέας οὗτοι οἱ ἄνθρωποι μέλλουσι προόπτῳ θανάτῳ δώσειν, διαβεβλημένους ὑπὸ Θεσσαλῶν, ὡς ἐγὼ εἰκάζω. 233 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 137. 234 See Konstan 1987: 70–1. 235 Cf. also the similar phrasing: ἀλλ’ οὐκ ἔσεσθαι ἑκόντες εἶναι προδόται τῆς Ἑλλάδος (8.30.2: Phocians); . . . τῶν προδότας γενέσθαι Ἀθηναίους οὐκ ἂν εὖ ἔχοι (8.144.2: Athenians); οὐ μὲν οὐδὲ ὁμολογήσομεν ἑκόντες εἶναι . . . ὅτι οὐδαμὰ προδώσομεν τὴν Ἑλλάδα (9.7α.2–β.1: Athenians). 236 See Konstan 1987: 71–2. 300 CHAPTER 4

On the basis that the Phocians are more strongly connected to the Greeks than to the Persians, and that the battle is not ultimately fought, Harmocydes’ speech prefigures the battles to follow in book 9 at Plataea and Mycale.237 The speech may then serve as a substitute for an exhortation before these battles. At Plataea, Harmocydes’ speech completes Pausanias’ exhortation. With the battle of Mycale lacking any exhortation—apart from Hegesistratus’ appeal for help (9.90.2–3)—Harmocydes’ speech conveniently fills the gap. By bringing slander, bribery, self-interest, blackmail, and medism, but also bravery, honour, and the superiority of the Greeks over the barbarians into play, the exhortation by the medizer Harmocydes engages in stimulating ways with Greco-barbarian stereotypes and the issue of Greek unity as a shared cause which is either fragmented or in the process of being fragmented, or even invoked simply for convenience.238

4.5 Harangues and Herodotean Narrative

Pre-battle speeches in Herodotus are not to be found where expected and, likewise, they do not always have the anticipated elaboration and force. Any long, inspiring exhortation speech by a prominent general is lacking. Anyone, for example, who expects to read a lengthy piece of refined hortatory rhetoric by Themistocles will be disappointed. Strangely enough, Dionysius and Harmocydes, both of whom only appear in the narrative once and play a minor role, are allowed forceful exhortations with distinct Homeric and other poetic resonances. Similarly, there is not one proper exhortation before the great battles of Marathon, Thermopylae, Plataea and Mycale. This chapter started off with the contention that Herodotus represents a stage in the evolution of the genre of exhortation which is given its proper form in Thucydides. This should be borne in mind when discussing Herodotean harangues, whose nature allows them great functional flexibility. Rather than being considered deficient because they are not Thucydidean, Herodotean exhortations should be seen as a unique facet of the historian’s elaborate narrative technique—one that embraces diverse kinds of traditional and contemporary literary and rhetorical material and enhances their form and usage. If pre-battle exhortations are omitted before major conflicts, other kinds of speeches compensate for these. Such speeches negotiate themes pertinent to harangues and emphasize what is at stake prior to a military engagement.

237 Cf. Flower and Marincola 2002: 38. 238 Cf. Baragwanath 2008: 171–2. Pre-battle Speeches 301

Thus, before Salamis, we get Themistocles’ speech to Eurybiades, with a mix of deliberative and exhortatory argumentation. The absence of a harangue at Thermopylae is not only typical of the Spartans’ laconic nature; it further accentuates the bravery of the Spartans who consciously and willingly decide to stay and fight to the death. The exchanges between Xerxes and Demaratus (7.101–5, 209), as well as Dieneces’ bold statement “then we shall have our battle in the shade” (7.226.2), serve the same purpose. And whilst there is no pre-battle exhortation before the battle of Mycale, the speech of Hegesistratus (9.90.2–3) brings hortatory motifs into play. The arrangement of exhortations in the Histories is yet another way for Herodotus to explore the polarity between Greeks and Persians. On the one hand, Herodotus seems to feed this polarity. Indeed, pre-battle speeches occur from book 6 onwards, when the scenery has been transferred to Greek ground. We do not come across any exhortation in the Persian court before then. Croesus, Cyrus, Cambyses, and Darius are never allowed an exhortation. This observation seems to be also in line with the constitutional context: in a monarchy the soldiers are slaves of the king; harangue is not needed and, if they retreat, they are flogged to move forward again (e.g. Xerxes at 7.103.4).239 Persian exhortations, when they happen, are put in the mouth of either Xerxes or Mardonius. And they do not address the whole army, but only the leading Persians, or the officers and leading commanders. The Greeks, by contrast, fight for their freedom, families and ancestors. It is both sensible and essential for them to be reminded of all these things before the battle to boost their spirits. Conversely, by means of exhortations Herodotus also invites his readers to challenge the Greco-Persian polarity. The Persians deliver harangues too and deploy motifs similar to those used by the Greeks (though not freedom).240 The Persian expedition against Greece starts solemnly with an exhortation by Xerxes, a lecture on the common Persian cause (7.53). Ironically enough, the Greeks do not seem to have anything similar with which to counterpoise Xerxes’ speech. This mirrors once more the lack of Greek unity: in the midst of disagreements and successive debates, there is neither time nor particular

239 Cf. also 8.86 where the Persians fight better at Salamis than at Euboea being afraid of Xerxes’ presence; but they lose nevertheless. 240 Cf. the comparable treatment of Persian and Assyrian harangues by Xenophon. In Cyropaedia 3.3.34–45 Cyrus himself exhorts his peers, his companions from his earliest youth, and the rearguard officers; he even reports the exhortation of the Assyrian king (in direct speech), which is very similar to Cyrus’ own. See also Gera (1993: 112), who suggests that the similarities between the two harangues demonstrate that “the two opponents, Assyrians and Persians, go to war according to the same rules and share the same values”. 302 CHAPTER 4 interest in haranguing the troops, and this may be why Greek harangues are so frequently suppressed and/or compressed. The narrative play of ironies and subversion adds an extra dimension to the function of exhortation by raising and disappointing readers’ expectations. Barbarian exhortations deepen the emotions of the audience and intensify the irony. Xerxes’ excellent exhortation is for a war which is ultimately lost. Greek exhortations are cut short. The only proper exhortations, reported in direct speech and before a battle, are voiced in vain and by minor characters: by the Phocian Harmocydes, a medizer, in the context of a mock battle, and by Dionysius, whose exhortation goes astray as the Ionians reject his leadership and lose the war.

The traditional purpose of exhortation, that is to transmit a sense of excelling oneself in service of one’s country, serves as a canvas for Herodotus against which he sets his own exhortation. While in dialogue with tradition and modern oratorical modes, Herodotus enlarges these in ways that mark his diverse approach. The coupling of features from epideictic and deliberative oratory is a direct consequence of the new functions exhortations are called to fulfil. As different rhetorical categories are interwoven with each other, Herodotus brings to the fore the dangerous balance of Greek inter-city relations and severely questions the self-other distinction. In both Greek and Persian pre- battle speeches there are indications of criticism of the rhetoric employed by the speakers, its twists and turns and its suspicious usage of idealistic arguments. The frequent discrepancy between proclaimed and underlying motivation makes any reference to high-minded arguments before a battle significantly questionable if not entirely hollow. Conclusion

This book has offered a glimpse into the challenging world of Herodotean rhetoric. In keeping with two of Herodotus’ trademarks par excellence, the multiplicity of meaning and the flexible diversity of the material, it has discussed the speeches in the narratives of the Ionian revolt and the Persian Wars, with particular focus on the ways in which they consolidate two major narrative themes: the fragility of Greek unity and the problematic Greco-Persian polarity. It has therefore argued for a close, performative relationship between speech and narrative, a relationship that the various parts of the book detected on a range of levels: structure of speech in the narrative (Part i), competing viewpoints (Part ii), and specific motifs of argumentation (Part iii). The three parts of the book offered different but interlocking ways of approaching the material and brought to the fore a rhetorical system built carefully and with a firm eye to exemplifying and complicating the two aforementioned narrative themes. In the four chapters, Herodotus’ rhetorical habits were set against a cross-generic background that highlighted his individual rhetorical practices, his endorsement and adaptation of traditional elements for his own purposes, his anticipation of techniques fully developed or variably toned down in Thucydides, and his own contribution to the setting that formed the basis for the earliest rhetorical handbooks. The Introduction firmly located Herodotus in the last third of the fifth century b.c. and discussed the two major themes in relation to their treatment in earlier and (near) contemporary literature. It then moved on to a contextualization of Herodotus’ use of speech against the background of prose and poetic genres. Chapter 1 examined Herodotus’ architectonics of speech. There we saw how the structuring of speech in the text and the different speech modes employed perform the dividing tendencies between the Greeks and the shaky boundaries between Greeks and Persians in Herodotus. Silence and alternation of speech modes guided our analysis and an impressive array of effects emerged: the laconic Spartan character is juxtaposed with the verbose Athenian; the alternation of different speech modes reflects Greek strife; the regulation of the relationship between speech and authority (as distinct from power) discloses complexities on the Greek and Persian side that go beyond, and complicate, the pair of speech and power—as straightforward as their relationship might seem at a political level; the amount and modes of speech given to Greeks and Persians support and challenge the gap between the two. The next chapter (2) drew attention to the ways in which debate operates in Greece and Persia. Despite the relative merits of debate—especially intra-city

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ��5 | doi ��.��63/9789004283589_007 304 Conclusion debate—it is generally ineffective and abortive in Herodotus. Greek debates are conducted in an antagonistic atmosphere and introduced by battle-like and athletic language. The contribution of individuals is usually played up while the debate itself is almost consistently played down. Greeks act like tyrants or have tyrannical aspirations; they think in narrow, self-interested terms; deception and force lead the way in the absence of common will and concord. The Persian debates emerge as a foil to the Greek in ways that both buttress and soften the polarity between the two enemies. The Persians attempt to discuss, even if they do not quite make it in the end. Autocratic and democratic language frames their discussions; rhetorical manipulation is necessary here too as is excessive flattery, and ultimately the will of the king seals every debate. Chapters 3 and 4 focused on two speech categories, alliance and pre-battle speeches, and on the argumentation of individual speeches. The focus on self-interest and specious rhetoric became more fixed here. In chapter 3, I provided a typology of Herodotean alliance motifs and amplified the argument with case studies. Common denominators in all of these case studies were the competition between Greek cities, especially between Athens and Sparta, self- centredness, deceptive rhetoric, and manipulation of myth and reality, all bun- dled with latent panhellenic feelings. Connections were drawn with Persian deceptive rhetoric represented by Mardonius, while a final section reviewed Persian alliance politics and speeches, and made the case for developed rhetorical and diplomatic consciousness on the Persian side too, despite their numerical superiority. Chapter 4 on pre-battle speeches pressed further on the combination of moral and expediency arguments in speeches. A typology of Herodotean exhortation was here again followed by test cases that emphasized the gap between the common and the private. Favouring the pragmatic against the idealizing aspect brought us closer to epideictic motifs and literature. Persian exhortations call for unity but also demonstrate a blind overconfidence based on the power of numbers. On the Greek side, Athenian exhortations focus on Athenian glory and Spartan exhortations reveal an ‘us versus them’ attitude regarding Atheno-Spartan relations. The Athenian-Tegean dispute preceding the battle of Plataea makes use of motifs that closely intersect with the epideictic and hortatory tradition. These, as well as affiliations with forensic oratory and the framing of the debate as a trial, go some way towards breaking up Greek unity right before the last major conflict with the invaders in mainland Greece during the Persian Wars. The purpose of pre-battle speeches is evidently distorted. We have seen that Herodotus’ rhetoric may be approached from different angles, each of which forms an integral part of its distinct character and Conclusion 305 contributes to the coherence of the work as a whole. We have also seen the interaction between different parts of Herodotus’ narrative as well as between Herodotus and traditional, (near) contemporary and later literature in terms of rhetoric. The role of the reader in figuring out the links, putting the pieces together, recalling and connecting passages, and making meaning, as well as Herodotus’ eagerness to offer multiple ways of interpreting the text, to open up different possibilities, to furnish a range of motivation, and to invite direct or indirect intratextual links, were frequently accentuated. In the rest of the Conclusion, I will turn my attention more closely to Herodotus the author and discuss the ways in which his exceptional rhetorical system as fleshed out in the previous chapters shapes and affects his authority. What does the representation of speech reveal about the ways in which Herodotus positions himself towards his own ‘speech’, his text, towards his readers and towards past and contemporary literature and rhetoric? Could the control Herodotus exercises over the speech of his historical agents potentially limit the openness of his narrative? In addressing these aspects, I will focus on two approaches that can help to elucidate Herodotus’ authority: the dialogism of the Histories and its metahistorical strands.

Dialogic Interaction

In the previous chapters we saw how Herodotus interacts with past and contemporary literature and oratorical practices. This interaction constitutes one of the defining features of the dialogic nature of the Histories. Alongside the combination of diverse literary models, there exists another kind of dialogue too, that generated by the plurality of voices incorporated in the text, their dialogue with the voice of the author and the voices of readers. As such Herodotus’ Histories represents one of the best examples of Bakhtinian ‘dialogism’,1 a notion best adumbrated in Bakhtin’s treatise Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics. There Bakhtin asserts that polyphony (itself a kind of heteroglossia which is also inherent in all language, including literary language) is a requirement for every dialogic text and, with reference to Dostoevsky, he writes:

A plurality of independent and unmerged voices and consciousnesses, a genuine polyphony of fully valid voices is in fact the chief characteristic of Dostoevsky’s novels. What unfolds in his works is not a multitude of

1 A fluid, manifold and complex concept the definition of which changed over time for both Bakhtin and later literary theorists. 306 Conclusion

characters and fates in a single objective world, illuminated by a single authorial consciousness; rather a plurality of consciousnesses, with equal rights and each with its own world, combine but are not merged in the unity of the event.2

These voices are in eternal dialogic interaction with each other, with the author and with the reader.3 The author orchestrates the dialogue, but at the same time participates in it in equal terms, as everyone else. A similar plurality of voices is traced in Herodotus, whose work presents readers with a remarkably open narrative structure, an array of voices, viewpoints, sources and opposing versions of events and the truth itself.4 This multiplicity of voices and Herodotus’ positioning towards different accounts, or even his refusal to judge between these, cultivate dialogue with readers and multiply the possibilities of meaning. Such openness might seem to threaten the authority of Herodotus as narrator and to give prominence to the role of the reader and his interaction with the text instead. One of the most contested elements of Bakhtinian dialogism is indeed that it may seem to compromise the authority of the narrator. Many theorists have identified this troubling aspect, while others, basing themselves on Bakhtin’s comments,5 declare that dialogism does not unsettle the control of the author over his literary creation. It rather coexists with it and the writer remains in control of all these voices which are in indefinite dialogue in many ways. As Herodotus’ authority has increasingly been in the scholarly spotlight over the past few decades, Herodotean critics tend to stand with the latter group and to approach the dialogism of the Histories in more nuanced ways.6

2 See Bakhtin 1984: 6 (his italics). 3 See Bakhtin 1984: 18, 63–5, 72–3. See also Bakhtin 1981: 259–422. Cf. Todorov 1984: 60–74. 4 On Herodotean dialogism in general, see Dewald 1987; 1999; 2002; 2006a: 180–2; Lateiner 1989: 31; Kurke 1999: 29; Pelling 2000: 83; Boedeker 2000: 111–13; 2003: 30–1. Baragwanath 2008 gives significant insight into Herodotean dialogism from a different angle: that of representing complex motivation, which in turn spurs the reader into active response. 5 See Bakhtin 1984: 64, 67–9, 165. Note esp. p. 68: “The author of a polyphonic novel is not required to renounce himself or his own consciousness, but he must to an extraordinary extent broaden, deepen, rearrange this consciousness (to be sure, in a specific direction) in order to accommodate the autonomous consciousnesses of others”. 6 See e.g. Dewald 2002. Casting Herodotus’ authorial persona in a double register, the narrator and the histōr, Dewald (2002: 273) contends: “Herodotus asks us as readers to attend simultaneously to both registers: to confront the contents of the Histories as narrated logoi taken from outside sources, arranged and critiqued by Herodotus himself, but at the same time to read the text as a whole as his own ongoing, seriously investigated account of the cultures Conclusion 307

Some go a little further, considering the openness of the narrative7 or the representation of Greek debate in particular8 a kind of allurement for the reader, a conscious strategy whereby Herodotus makes readers put their confidence in his voice and thus corroborates his authority. In line with recent sophisticated dialogic readings of the Histories, and especially Dewald’s, I should like to propose an equally subtle approach, arguing for synergy between authorial intent and dialogism as far as speech representation is concerned. Although the part that the reader plays in producing meaning was repeatedly stressed in the course of the book, the picture of Herodotean rhetoric drawn here might nevertheless suggest to some that the Histories is, to some extent, a closed text. We have seen Herodotus regulating the speech of individuals and groups, meticulously compressing or suppressing debates, limiting the dissenting opinions, and employing indirect discourse to report selected debates and speeches while carefully choosing direct discourse for certain groups and individuals. In this way Herodotus forms his rhetorical system around the two major narrative themes under consideration in this book, the Greco-Persian polarity and Greek faction, while at the same time he bolsters his authority as a narrator of his text and affirms his power over his written composition. Power is a central notion in the Herodotean universe; it relates to despotism and expansion as much as it relates to knowledge and truth. We have seen in chapter 1 how Herodotus handles power relations when it comes to speech, and how he develops a subtle distinction between power and authority.9 Critics have looked at the dynamics between power and truth/knowledge

and events that produced the Persian Wars”. Cf. also Dewald 1987; 2006a: 180–2; Boedeker (2000: 111): “[t]he mix of voices that comprises Herodotean historia is strongly marked by the judgment and authority of the author”; Fox and Livingstone (2007: 546): “Throughout the Histories, the authorial voice invites us into the text in a kind of hide-and-seek, insisting that we become involved in the process of historical inquiry”. 7 See Goldhill 2002a: 28, 30. Cf. Chamberlain 2001, who argues for an interesting interplay between Herodotus’ singular and plural voices. 8 See Barker 2009: 147, 201–2, 368. A similar concern for the representation of exchanges of opinions in literature more generally is reflected in Goldhill’s 2009 edited volume, tellingly as much as provocatively titled The End of Dialogue in Antiquity. Focusing on the literary genre of dialogue, closely akin to but not quite like debate, Goldhill brings together a variety of stimulating essays that challenge the dialogic nature of dialogue and discuss the limits of its representation. 9 Note that, when talking about Herodotus the narrator, power and authority coincide. 308 Conclusion with respect to Herodotus’ approach to the past,10 and at the link between Herodotus’ authority and his sources11 and character speeches.12 This latter aspect is especially relevant to the argument made here. It could further be contended that the authorial control Herodotus exerts over speech ultimately makes him resemble the tyrants or people with tyrannical traits or aspirations in the Histories.13 Such comparisons have often been drawn,14 especially with respect to the inquiring practices of the monarchs and their recording of events.15 The association between tyranny and writing suggested by Steiner16 may corroborate the association between Herodotus and his tyrants: Herodotus risks entering the world of the tyrant while he composes his written work. In terms of speech, we can compare Herodotus’ control over the depiction of speech, and debate, with Xerxes’ control over the speech of his subjects, or with Themistocles’ managing and cutting short the Greek debates at Salamis in particular.17 Such ties are suggestive and go some way to backing up Herodotus’ narratorial authority. There is undoubtedly strong authorial intention at work as regards the representation of rhetoric in the Histories. However, Herodotus is not appropriating the role of a tyrant. Apart from overlapping, differences between the investigative and narrative methods of Herodotus and those of his tyrants have also been pointed out—these will become more relevant in the next section on metahistorical readings. Payen18 has brilliantly inter-

10 E.g. Lateiner (1989: 55–108) considers how Herodotus establishes his power through employing certain methods to find out the truth about the past. Cartledge and Greenwood (2002: 353–63) discuss how Herodotus confirms the value of his critical approach to finding out the truth about the past over other traditional forms of power (myth, epic, oracles, thomata). 11 See Marincola (1997: 280–6): the alternative versions of the past, including citation of named or unnamed sources, are for the historians an important means of constructing their authority through variably positioning themselves towards tradition. 12 See de Bakker 2007. 13 Cf. Greenwood’s (2004: 185–7) discussion of the affinities between the Thucydidean Pericles suppressing the voice of the demos in Thuc. 2.22.1 and Thucydides suppressing competing versions of history when writing his account. 14 E.g. with Darius and his investigating foreign cultures, on which see, for example, Thomas 2006: 69; cf. Kurke (1999: 86–9) for a qualified comparison. 15 See e.g. Christ 1994; Grethlein 2009a; Branscome 2010. 16 See Steiner 1994: 127–85. On tyranny and writing, see also Hartog 1988: 277–81; cf. Pelling 2007: 197–8. 17 Or, for that matter, the control powerful Homeric characters, like Agamemnon and Zeus, have over the speech of other humans or gods. 18 See Payen 1995; 1997 (esp. pp. 95–130). Cf. Rood 2006: 294; 2012: 133–4. Conclusion 309 preted the geographical and ethnographical digressions in the Histories as a way of resisting the monarchs’ imperialistic projects that Herodotus’ narrative relates.19 Along similar lines, Barker20 has recently argued that, by representing the ambiguity of the oracles, Herodotus both affirms his authority and provides his readers with the means to resist the authority of the despots in the Histories as well as his own authority. Despite his strong check on the positioning and selection of speeches, Herodotus still prompts and invites ‘dialogical’ readings through the inclusion of speeches and variants. He incorporates a large number of debates in the Histories, while the juxtaposition between speech and narrative reveals a whole range of possible interpretations and incentives underlying rhetorical tropes. Explicit or implicit engagement with previous as well as contemporary literature and rhetoric (e.g. in Themistocles’ exhortation at 8.83), diverse Greek and Persian viewpoints, subversion of readers’ expectations as speakers make use of certain rhetorical models and paradigms, absence of speeches where one would expect them, synopses of speeches or suppression of debates, are all consciously employed and scrupulously orchestrated with a view to enriching the work and its potential for dialogue. That the diversity of voices is managed by Herodotus qualifies but does not compromise the Histories’ dialogism. Herodotus even promotes discussion and exchange of opinions as a narrator when his voice is in dialogue with current Greek assumptions. In 7.139, he famously addresses possible scenarios had Sparta or Athens succumbed to Persia, and agrees with those who would label Athens ‘the saviour of Greece’. On a similar note, Herodotus openly engages with dissidents when commenting on the reliability of the Constitutional Debate and the fact that Mardonius established democracies in Ionian cities (3.80.1; 6.43.3). And when Herodotus reports conflicting versions of the past without favouring one or the other (e.g. the story of why the Argives did not side with the Greeks in the Persian Wars, which includes a fair amount of speech), he draws readers into a constructive reading process. Rather than hampering the interaction between the text and its readers, Herodotus’ representation of speech and debate encourages readers to actively engage with the text. It calls readers forth to see that discussion is both beneficial and problematic, that rhetoric is deceptive and that speech

19 Cf. also Ward (2008: 159–71), who suggests that Herodotus’ work is a solution to the problem of empire, and this is most evident “by comparing Xerxes’ gathering of the world’s forces to invade Greece in the first half of book 7, with Herodotus’ gathering of the world into an intelligible whole, both in book 7 and the Histories more generally” (p. 161). 20 See Barker 2006. 310 Conclusion and power form a dynamic pair. At the same time, Herodotus invites readers to challenge him, to produce their own explanations and interpretations, to enter into conversation with his characters, to think about the nature of rhetoric and public speaking, to fill in the silences or reinvent the compressed indirect speeches, and to reconstruct possible courses of action, the end of the roads not taken. Even the wise and good advice (especially in a Persian context, such as in the cases of Artemisia and Demaratus), explicated in detail in speeches but not followed, as well as operating as a kind of prolepsis for the disaster to come,21 opens up new horizons of interpretation, serves as ‘sideshadowing’ or ‘might-have-beens’.22 And yet, even advice provided by the so-called ‘wise counsellors’ is not necessarily always prudent. We have seen, for example, the potential defects of Hecataeus’ proposition to Aristagoras in their first meeting, while Herodotus’ contemporary historical context, with an Athens following in Persia’s footsteps, also makes us doubt the sagacity of Socles’ advice. Herodotus’ inquiry is never flat and meaning is never one-dimensional in the Histories. The text requires attentive readers.23

Metahistorical Reflections

Herodotus’ dialogue with other genres, authors and his readers conveys an openness and active interaction. At the same time, the inter-generic dialogue bears upon a more competitive aspect. Writing in a highly antagonistic climate, Herodotus tries to measure up to literary and intellectual developments and to define his own different genre and historical approach. To the same effect, Herodotus compares the activities of some of his characters with his own. One corollary of the surge of interest in Herodotean narrative technique is the increasing popularity of metahistorical readings of the Histories, which may seem to check its dialogic nature: the criticism of genres and historical agents in order to promote the superiority of Herodotus’ literary enterprise might seem to devaluate and push aside all these different voices. It is to be borne in mind, however, that, although metahistory bolsters the authority

21 Cf. e.g. Grethlein 2009b: 160–4. 22 Grethlein (2009b: 164–71; 2010: 248–52) recognizes ‘sideshadowing’ as an important feature of the Thucydidean but not the Herodotean narrative. 23 Generally on the ways in which Herodotus stimulates his readers to participate energeti- cally in the process of construing meaning, see also e.g. Lateiner 1989: 55–108; Bakker 2002; and the essays in Irwin and Greenwood 2007b (different but not incompatible responses to the logoi in Herodotus’ book 5). Conclusion 311 of Herodotus, this is only possible via comparison and juxtaposition, that is, through dialogic interaction. Christ24 has metahistorically interpreted Herodotean images of tyrants: despite appropriating parallel inquisitive and exploratory strategies to his tyrants and employing comparable ways of cataloguing information, Herodotus separates himself from them. In a similar manner, Grethlein25 has read Xerxes’ activity of writing his own deeds (i.e. of writing history) as both reflecting and throwing into relief Herodotus’ own historical writing. Other actors, such as Solon, Hecataeus, Socles or Proteus, also mirror Herodotus’ activity and explicate his authorial persona. Aristagoras’ activities when presenting the map to Cleomenes and Herodotus’ ensuing description of the Royal Road have also generated metahistorical readings.26 A range of Herodotean speeches have been considered by Grethlein as implicit commentaries on the superiority of Herodotus’ method in recording the past—“which uses the past not so much to glorify and to legitimize but to shed critical light on the present”—against deliberative and epideictic oratory.27 Tackling the ways in which the picture of rhetoric adumbrated in this study may illuminate the process by which Herodotus defines his historiographical method, I would like to take Grethlein’s argument further. I should like to propose that the treatment of rhetoric in the Histories has significant implications

24 See Christ 1994. 25 See Grethlein 2009a: 205–15. 26 On Herodotus as both comparing himself (as ethnographer and geographer) to and separating himself from Aristagoras in his description of the Royal Road, see Branscome 2010: 8–10, 16–18, 22, 35–8; cf. Purves 2010: 144–50. For a similar approach to the relationship between Herodotus and Hecataeus, see Pelling 2007: 196–200; Rood 2012: 131–5. On Aristagoras’ description of the map as recalling Hecataeus’ style and the geographical tradition more generally, see Rood 2006: 295; 2012: 127–9. On the metaliterary qualities of Socles’ speech, see Moles 2007. On Solon, see e.g. Moles 1996; Pelling 2006a; 2007: 196; Friedman (2006: 167): “Solon, then, can be seen as a figure who performs a metanarrative function in his echoing of these crucial aspects of Herodotus’ own authorial persona. In fact the Histories are filled with a number of travelling theorists who help us better learn to understand Herodotus’ own conception of his groundbreaking project and his role within it”. On the metahistorical function of Proteus, see de Bakker 2012: 118–26 (note esp. p. 126: Proteus is presented as “an emblem of the difficult struggle a historian faces in the process of making a multi-layered work of art”). See also Baragwanath 2012a (Herodotus’ use of the mythical plupast vs. that of his characters). 27 See Grethlein (2010: 158–87), on the exchanges between the Greek messengers and Gelon at Hdt. 7.153–63, and between the Athenians and the Tegeans at Hdt. 9.26–7 (quotation from p. 173). For metahistorical readings of speeches in ancient historiography generally, see the essays in Grethlein and Krebs 2012 and in Pausch 2010. 312 Conclusion for Herodotus’ stance towards current oratorical practices, for his method of writing history, and for how readers are supposed to approach his work. In sketching out the depiction of rhetoric in the various chapters, we came up with a highly complex representation. Debates are defective and often pointless. Speeches aim at manipulation, distort the past and the present, frequently deceive and conceal underlying motivation. Arguments from idealism are combined with, or conceal, pragmatic purposes. Patriotic slogans and shared causes end up being rather obscure. The staging of long pieces of rhetoric in the context of battle narratives and in the run-up to the Persians Wars shifts the focus away from unconditional cooperation among the Greeks and towards an egotistic, power-oriented attitude. Correspondences, as well as differences, between Greek and Persian discourse sharpen the focus on Greek disunity. Herodotus takes a critical stance towards inter-Greek conflicts at the time of and after the Persian Wars, and towards contemporary rhetoric. He disapproves of the Greeks’ tendency to employ superficially high- minded arguments in the context of a fragmenting, if not already fragmented, common cause. As the Histories unveils the widely artificial character of moral arguments and typical patriotic motifs time and again, it becomes ever clearer how hard the Greeks find it to cooperate for the achievement of a joint purpose. It is worth remembering that the dubious unity secured among those Greeks who do not escape at Salamis is not the result of their understanding that they fight for any high ideals but of Themistocles’ coercion and backstage policy instead. Similarly, the absence of a proper exhortation before all other great battles of the Persian Wars but Salamis (Marathon, Thermopylae, Plataea and Mycale), in other words the suppression of hortatory/epideictic motifs, shows that in the midst of disagreements and successive debates there is neither time nor particular interest in haranguing the troops by recycling all too familiar honourable arguments of questionable sincerity. Even Themistocles’ compressed exhortation before Salamis, the only proper pre-battle speech in the whole of the Histories, might be construed along comparable lines. The association between speech and Greek inter-city fighting sharpens the metahistorical function of the representation of rhetoric in the Histories. Contemporary oratory is context-specific and aims at making a particular point. It utilizes arguments and themes which have been thoroughly filtered, meticulously chosen from a stockpile of conventional motifs and appropriately readjusted, altered or distorted. The target of oratory is to close down rather than open up readings. Hence it is markedly one-dimensional: it wilfully avoids multi-layered meaning and puts forward a single argument which ideally cannot be subject to dispute. The audience is thus deprived of any opportunity Conclusion 313 to juxtapose conflicting views or even contextualize the views presented.28 Herodotus’ text stands on the opposite side. The Histories does not attend to any specific context, subscribe to one particular ideology, or have a unique purpose. Its scope extends beyond temporal and spatial limits. Herodotus invites his readers to compare and contrast, think the text through, and approach it from multiple perspectives. At a metahistorical level, Herodotus may be stating the value of his new, different genre for a more reliable approach to rhetoric. His historiographical work, as it challenges the genuineness and effectiveness of selfless arguments that appeal on a moral high ground, is more worthy than contemporary rhetoric. The Histories, moreover, prevails in terms of its usefulness: its dialogic character encourages readers to discover for themselves the vagueness and trickiness of such arguments and develop a more critical approach towards relevant pieces of rhetoric instead. Herodotus shows his acquaintance with oratorical strategies that camou- flage self-seeking motivations with noble aspirations. He also deploys typical epideictic themes and his purpose is partly epideictic in the sense that he expresses moral judgment and bestows praise or blame.29 At the same time, Herodotus envisages himself as offering his readers the chance to see through and beneath the use of epideictic rhetoric by setting the speeches against the narrative. In his operation and innovation within the conventions of oratory, Herodotus both conforms to and overturns readers’ expectations, makes readers alert to the deficiencies of oratory and to the helpful divergences of his own approach to rhetorical argumentation.30 Metahistory may shape, to some extent, the expectations of readers but in no way restricts them; it keeps readers engaged instead. There are a couple of individual speeches where the metahistorical dimension is particularly prominent and seems to have more specific rhetorical targets. In his depiction of Aristagoras and his map, Herodotus seems to take a critical stance not only towards earlier and near contemporary cartographers, geographers and ethnographers, but also towards the sophists. Maps, typical

28 See e.g. Perlman 1961; Worthington 1994a: 109–29; Grethlein 2010: 105–45. 29 It is worth noting the difference in Herodotus’ and the orators’ conferral of praise. The orators’ conferral of praise is partisan and simplifying. In the Histories the bestowal of praise (patently reminiscent of Homeric kleos) is much more complicated and qualified, with commendable featuring alongside reprehensible attitudes and deeds and with readers invited to move beyond a simple contrast between praise and blame. On praise and blame in Herodotus, especially in conjunction with motivation, see Baragwanath 2008 (esp. chs. 5–7). 30 For a metahistorical reading of Themistocles’ exhortation before Salamis along these lines, see Zali 2013. 314 Conclusion of Ionian intellectual activity, and all contemporary science, were linked to the activities of the sophists. In the scene from Aristophanes’ Clouds where Strepsiades cannot recognize a map which features in Socrates’ school (206–17), the playwright associates maps and science with the sophists and further with sophistry and deception.31 Together with producing a comic effect, the scene aims to criticize, and Herodotus’ use of Aristagoras’ map to supplement his tricky speech is likely intended to be seen as operating within a similar critical and agonistic context. The element of display, inherent in the map and also as part of the demonstration to Cleomenes,32 is another potential link to the sophists and their treacherous displays. We saw in chapter 3 that the attempt of the Greeks at an alliance with the Syracusans has been transformed into an exchange of display arguments, whose employment proves highly problematic. The specifically epideictic nature of some of the arguments, as well as other affinities with epideictic models, work towards a commentary directed at display oratory. A similar attack against epideictic, and specifically Athenian patriotic, rhetoric seems to be embedded in Miltiades’ speech to Callimachus (6.109.3–6; as discussed in chapter 4). The strength of Miltiades’ exemplar of the tyrant killers is played down in 6.123.2 to the benefit of the Alcmaeonids and the Spartans. But precisely in light of Miltiades’ example, Herodotus’ comment in 6.123.2 acquires metahistorical significance. Herodotus may be seen here to respond to, while at the same time criticizing, popular traditions33 which exalted the part of Harmodius and Aristogeiton in the liberation of Athens, and most importantly Athenian patriotic rhetoric, which viewed the liberation as an exclusively Athenian affair (e.g. Hyp. 6.37–9). Against these Herodotus sets the merits of his inquiry, an inquiry that in our case reaches a judgment after careful consideration of available stories and sources. Perhaps even more interesting metahistorically is the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians (9.26–7). The ambiguity and manipulation of mythical and historical examples expresses criticism of oratory in general, and points to the hypocrisy of such claims in oratory, where emphasis on the Athenians’ service to Greece is combined with the exaltation of Athens above all other Greeks to corroborate hegemonic claims.34 The panhellenic

31 For a discussion of the use of the map in this Aristophanic episode, see most recently Purves 2010: 112–17. 32 A sense reinforced by the use of a number of deictics, e.g. οἵδε (5.49.5, 6); τῶνδε, τήνδε (5.49.6). 33 See Raaflaub 2003: 68. 34 E.g. in Isocrates’ Panegyricus. Conclusion 315 example of the Trojan War in the Athenian speech, absent in epideictic oratory, opposes the selectivity, partisanship and imperialistic focus of contemporary oratorical practices. At the same time, the Athenians’ disapproval of myth and preference for the present (9.27.4–5)—albeit matched by a couple of deliberative and epideictic oratorical examples—runs against the content and aims of display oratory. The Athenians’ condemnation of an evidently epideictic debate in these critical circumstances right before the battle of Plataea (9.27.1) criticizes not only Greek tendencies to fragmentation and domination, but also the employment of such divisive, self-praising rhetoric when the alliance of the Greeks appears to be so slender. The similarities to epideictic oratory help to better tease out the differences between this type of rhetoric and Herodotus’ composition. This metahistorical reading is encouraged by the fact that the Athenians, in denying the force of myth, echo aspects of Herodotus’ historical thought as reflected in his proem. The author there rejects all the mythical versions of how the enmity between the Greeks and the barbarians began, only to focus on historical time and the one whom he knows to have started the injustice (1.5.3). This is followed by a statement about the fluctuations of human fortune: “I will proceed with my history telling the story as I go along of small cities of men no less than of great. For most of those which were great once are small today, and those which used to be small were great in my own time” (1.5.3–4). Within the same context of generating scepticism about the nature of (epideictic) rhetoric, it seems natural to speculate that the Tegean speech is constructed as a kind of an epideictic speech, resembling an epitaphios, in order to challenge the uniqueness of Athenian funerary rhetoric. To the same effect we can interpret the speeches in the Syracusan debate scene (chapter 3). Apart from a comment on the uniformly supple and dangerous nature of rhetoric, and given that the Spartans and Gelon make more or less direct use of arguments linked with epideictic oratory, Herodotus may be suggesting that other cities, and not just Athens, had their panegyric speeches too, and were equally capable of reciting past feats and manipulating mythology for equally self-serving purposes. Another speech targets in a still more forceful manner the concept of solely Athenian funeral orations: the exhortation of the barbarian Xerxes in 7.53. We have noted the affinities between this piece of rhetoric and Athenian funeral orations in chapter 4. Apart from dialogic interaction with this kind of rhetoric that sharpens the hints of Greek disunity, there is also critical interaction. By transposing a typically Athenian oratorical genre to the Persian king, Herodotus shows that these types of arguments are not exclusive to the Greeks, in particular the Athenians, and in fact deconstructs—at least to some 316 Conclusion extent—the very genre that helped to construct Athens itself. The connection between Athens and Xerxes brings out all the more visibly the imperialistic imprint of funeral orations and Herodotus’ criticism thereof. This criticism is intensified by Xerxes’ preoccupation with nobility and above all communality, features that funeral orations limited to Athens only, although they embedded them in a context of genuine Athenian concern for the common good of all the Greeks. Generating scepticism in his audience, Herodotus doubts the value, sincerity and purposes of epitaphic rhetoric and exemplifies the advantages of his method—a cautious, questioning and reflective method, put forward as a model for his readers to follow in actively and perceptively partaking in extrapolating meaning. This method is quintessentially Herodotean, warrants the influential and contested nature of the Histories across time, and is quite appropriate to the playful and versatile ‘father of history’ and ‘lies’. Momigliano once memorably wrote of Herodotus “[t]he secrets of his workshop are not yet all out”.35 This book has hopefully succeeded in prising the door of that workshop open a little further.

35 See Momigliano 1966: 130. Appendix 1 Alternation of Speech Modes in Debates and Conversations (books 5–9)1

Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode

5.30.3 Naxians Aristagoras rsa 5.30.4–5 Aristagoras Naxians dd 5.30.6 Naxians Aristagoras id

5.49.2–8 Aristagoras Cleomenes dd 5.49.9 Cleomenes Aristagoras dd 5.50.1 Cleomenes Aristagoras id 5.50.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes id 5.50.3 Cleomenes Aristagoras dd 5.51.1 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.1 Cleomenes Aristagoras rsa 5.51.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.2 Cleomenes Aristagoras rsa 5.51.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.2 Gorgo Cleomenes dd

6.1 Artaphrenes Histiaeus id 6.1 Histiaeus Artaphrenes id 6.2 Artaphrenes Histiaeus dd

7.135.2 Hydarnes Sperthias & Bulis dd 7.135.3 Sperthias & Bulis Hydarnes dd 7.136.1 Persian guards Sperthias & Bulis rsa 7.136.1 Sperthias & Bulis Persian guards id 7.136.2 Sperthias & Bulis Xerxes dd 7.136.2 Xerxes Sperthias & Bulis id

7.209.2 Xerxes Demaratus id 7.209.2–4 Demaratus Xerxes dd

1 id = Indirect Discourse; dd = Direct Discourse; rsa = Record of Speech Act (on the different speech modes, see above, p. 4).

Table (cont.)

Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode

7.209.5 Xerxes Demaratus rsa 7.209.5 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.210.1 Xerxes Demaratus rsa

8.57.1 Mnesiphilus Themistocles id 8.57.1 Themistocles Mnesiphilus id 8.57.2 Mnesiphilus Themistocles dd 8.58.1 Themistocles Mnesiphilus rsa (silence)

8.58.1 Themistocles Eurybiades id 8.58.1 Eurybiades Themistocles rsa 8.58.2 Themistocles Eurybiades rsa 8.59 Eurybiades Greek generals id 8.59 Themistocles Greek generals rsa 8.59 Adeimantus Themistocles dd 8.59 Themistocles Adeimantus dd 8.60α–γ Themistocles Eurybiades dd 8.61.1 Adeimantus Themistocles & rsa Eurybiades 8.61.2 Themistocles Adeimantus id 8.62 Themistocles Eurybiades dd

9.53.1 Pausanias Spartans rsa 9.53.2 Amompharetus Pausanias id 9.53.4 Pausanias & Amompharetus rsa Euryanax 9.55.2 Amompharetus Pausanias id 9.55.2 Pausanias Amompharetus rsa

9.90.2–3 Hegesistratus Greek generals id 9.91.1 Leotychides Hegesistratus dd 9.91.1 Hegesistratus Leotychides dd 9.91.2 Leotychides Hegesistratus dd Appendix 2 Catalogue of Greek and Persian Debates (books 5–9)

Following the definition of debate given in chapter 2,1 I have been able to identify the subsequent sets of speeches in the Histories as debates:2

Greece

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

1. 5.30.3 Naxians Aristagoras rsa 5.30.4–5 Aristagoras Naxians dd 5.30.6 Naxians Aristagoras id

2. 5.36.1 Aristagoras Council rsa 5.36.2 Supporters Council rsa 5.36.2–3 Hecataeus Council rsa/id

3. 5.49.2–8 Aristagoras Cleomenes dd 5.49.9 Cleomenes Aristagoras dd 5.50.1 Cleomenes Aristagoras id 5.50.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes id 5.50.3 Cleomenes Aristagoras dd 5.51.1 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.1 Cleomenes Aristagoras rsa 5.51.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.2 Cleomenes Aristagoras rsa 5.51.2 Aristagoras Cleomenes rsa 5.51.2 Gorgo Cleomenes dd

1 See above, p. 105: “I take debate to denote a formal public discussion entailing exchange of opposing opinions, between two or more interlocutors, over important issues that affect the whole community, such as matters of national strategy”. 2 id = Indirect Discourse; dd = Direct Discourse; rsa = Record of Speech Act (on the different speech modes, see above, p. 4).

Table (cont.)

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

4. 5.79.2 Thebans Assembly dd 5.80.1 Theban Assembly dd

5. 5.91.2–3 Spartans Council of allies dd 5.92α.1 Socles Council of allies dd 5.93.1 Hippias Council of allies id 5.93.2 Allies Council of allies rsa

6. 5.97.1–2 Aristagoras Athenians id 5.97.2–3 Athenians Aristagoras rsa

7. 5.103.1 Aristagoras Athenians rsa 5.103.1 Athenians Aristagoras id

8. 5.118.2 Carians Council rsa 5.118.2 Pixodarus Council rsa 5.118.3 Carians Council rsa

9. 5.124.2 Aristagoras Council id 5.125 Hecataeus Council rsa 5.126.1 Aristagoras Council rsa

10. 6.11.1 Ionians Council rsa 6.11.2–3 Dionysius of Phocaea Council dd 6.12.1 Ionians Council rsa

11. 6.100.1 Eretrians Athenians rsa 6.100.1 Athenians Eretrians rsa

12. 6.100.2 Eretrians Council rsa 6.100.2 Eretrians Council rsa

13. 6.106.2 Philippides/ Spartans dd Athenians 6.106.3 Spartans Philippides/ id Athenians Appendix 2 321

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

14. 6.109.1 Athenian generals Council rsa 6.109.2 Athenian generals Council rsa 6.109.3–6 Miltiades Callimachus dd

15. 7.142.1 Athenians Assembly rsa 7.142.2 Athenians Assembly id/rsa 7.142.3 Interpreters Assembly id 7.143.1–3 Themistocles Assembly id

16. 7.145.1–2 Greeks Council id/rsa

17. 7.148.3 Greek messengers Argives rsa 7.148.4 Argives Greek messengers id 7.149.2 Spartan messengers Argives id 7.149.3 Argives Greek messengers id/rsa

18. 7.157 Greek messengers Gelon dd 7.158 Gelon Greek messengers dd 7.159 Syagrus Gelon dd 7.160 Gelon Syagrus dd 7.161 Athenians Gelon dd 7.161.1 Gelon Athenians dd

19. 7.168.1 Greek messengers Corcyreans rsa 7.168.1 Corcyreans Greek messengers id

20. 7.169.1 Greek messengers Cretans rsa 7.169.2 Cretans Greek messengers rsa

21. 7.172.2 Thessalians Greeks dd 7.173 Greeks Thessalians rsa

22. 7.175.1 Greeks Council rsa

23. 7.207 Peloponnesian Council rsa generals 7.207 Leonidas Council id 322 Appendix 2

Table (cont.)

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

24. 7.219.2 Greeks Council rsa 7.219.2 Greeks Council rsa

25. 8.2.2 Greeks Council id 8.3.1 Greeks Council id 8.3.1 Greeks Council rsa 8.3.2 Athenians Council rsa

26. 8.9 Greeks Council rsa

27. 8.49.1 Eurybiades Council rsa 8.49.2 Peloponnesian Council id generals 8.50.1 Athenian messenger Council id 8.56 Greeks Council rsa

28. 8.58.1 Themistocles Eurybiades id 8.58.1 Eurybiades Themistocles rsa 8.58.2 Themistocles Eurybiades rsa 8.59 Eurybiades Greek generals id 8.59 Themistocles Greek generals rsa 8.59 Adeimantus Themistocles dd 8.59 Themistocles Adeimantus dd 8.60α–γ Themistocles Eurybiades dd 8.61.1 Adeimantus Themistocles & rsa Eurybiades 8.61.2 Themistocles Adeimantus id 8.62 Themistocles Eurybiades dd

29. 8.74.2 Peloponnesian Council id generals 8.74.2 Athenian, Aeginetan, Council id Megarian generals Appendix 2 323

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

30. 8.81 Aristeides Council id 8.81 Greeks Council rsa

31. 8.108.2 Themistocles Council rsa 8.108.2–4 Eurybiades Council rsa/id

32. 8.140α.1–β.4 Alexander Athenians dd 8.142 Spartan messengers Athenians dd 8.143 Athenians Alexander dd 8.144 Athenians Spartans dd

33. 9.5.1 Murychides Athenians id 9.5.1 Lycides Athenians id

34. 9.7α.1–β.2 Athenians Spartans dd 9.8.1 Spartans Athenians rsa 9.9.2 Chileus Spartans dd 9.11.1–2 Athenians Spartans dd 9.11.2 Spartans Athenians id 9.11.3 Athenians Spartans rsa

35. 9.26.2–7 Tegeans Spartans dd 9.27 Athenians Spartans dd 9.28 Spartans Council id

36. 9.51 Greeks Council rsa

37. 9.90.2–3 Hegesistratus Greek generals id 9.91.1 Leotychides Hegesistratus dd 9.91.1 Hegesistratus Leotychides dd 9.91.2 Leotychides Hegesistratus dd

38. 9.98 Greeks Council rsa

39. 9.106.2 Greeks Council rsa/id 324 Appendix 2

Table (cont.)

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

9.106.3 Peloponnesian Council rsa generals 9.106.3 Athenian generals Council rsa

Persia

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

1. 5.31.1–3 Aristagoras Artaphrenes id/dd 5.31.4 Artaphrenes Aristagoras dd

2. 5.106.1–2 Darius Histiaeus dd 5.106.3–6 Histiaeus Darius dd 5.107 Darius Histiaeus rsa

3. 7.8α.1–δ.2 Xerxes Persian grandees dd 7.9.1–γ Mardonius Xerxes dd 7.10α.1–θ.3 Artabanus Xerxes dd 7.11 Xerxes Artabanus dd

4. 7.13.2–3 Xerxes Persian grandees dd

5. 7.18.4 Xerxes Persian grandees rsa

6. 7.46 Artabanus Xerxes dd 7.47.1 Xerxes Artabanus dd 7.47.2 Artabanus Xerxes dd 7.48 Xerxes Artabanus dd 7.49 Artabanus Xerxes dd 7.50 Xerxes Artabanus dd 7.51 Artabanus Xerxes dd 7.52 Xerxes Artabanus dd Appendix 2 325

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

7. 7.101.1–3 Xerxes Demaratus dd 7.101.3 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.101.3 Xerxes Demaratus id 7.102 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.103 Xerxes Demaratus dd 7.104 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.105 Xerxes Demaratus rsa

8. 7.209.2 Xerxes Demaratus rsa 7.209.2–4 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.209.5 Xerxes Demaratus rsa 7.209.5 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.210.1 Xerxes Demaratus rsa

9. 7.213.1 Ephialtes Xerxes rsa

10. 7.234.1 Xerxes Demaratus dd 7.234.2 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.234.3 Xerxes Demaratus dd 7.235 Demaratus Xerxes dd 7.236 Achaemenes Xerxes dd 7.237 Xerxes Achaemenes dd

11. 8.67.2 Xerxes (via Generals id Mardonius) 8.68 Generals Xerxes (via rsa Mardonius) 8.68α.1–γ Artemisia Xerxes (via dd Mardonius) 8.69.2 Mardonius Xerxes rsa 8.69.2 Xerxes Generals rsa

12. 8.100.2–5 Mardonius Xerxes dd 8.101.1 Xerxes Mardonius id 326 Appendix 2

Table (cont.)

Debate Passage Speaker Addressee Speech mode number

13. 8.101.1 Xerxes Persian grandees rsa 8.101.2–4 Xerxes Artemisia dd 8.102 Artemisia Xerxes dd 8.103 Xerxes Artemisia rsa

14. 9.2.1–3 Thebans Mardonius rsa/id/dd 9.3.1 Mardonius Thebans rsa

15. 9.41.2–3 Artabazus Mardonius id 9.41.4 Mardonius Artabazus id/rsa 9.42.1 Generals Mardonius rsa

16. 9.42.1 Mardonius Persian & Greek id commanders serving under the Persians 9.42.2 Persian & Greek Mardonius rsa commanders serving under the Persians 9.42.3–4 Mardonius Persian & Greek dd commanders serving under the Persians Bibliography

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Aeschines Antiphon

Speeches Speeches 1.1 29n141 3.4.8 288n200 3.16 29n141

Archilochus Aeschylus 5 W 243n26 Agamemnon 7a–b W 243 604–12 46n46 611 23n111, 46 1035 ff. 40 Aristophanes

Choephoroi Acharnians 900–2 40 179–85 244n32 496–501 29n141 Persians 530–4 125n74 59–60 213n150 676–702 244n32 72 95n224 79–80 15n71 Assembly Women 93–9 96 151–2 29n141 144–6 15n71 179–96 15 Clouds 233 95 206–17 314 252 213n150 400–5 243 Frogs 444 254n78 907–46 40 591–7 115 653–7 95 Knights 719 95 1113–14 131n93 722 95n224 1334 244 749 95 753–8 95 Lysistrata 754 95 273–82 244n32 759–86 95, 96n227 667–9 244n32 785–6 96 1242–70 16

Seven Against Thebes Wasps 1–3 243n29 682–5 244 10–16 243n29 711 244 1075–90 244n32 index of passages cited 355

Aristotle Callinus

Rhetoric 1 W 243 1358b8–9 240 1358b20–8 173 1359b33–1360a5 173, 182n39 Cicero 1362a17–21 173n3 1362b10–28 182n39 Laws 1362b27–8 173 1.1.5 1n2 1365a30–2 213 1367b37–68a1 241n18 1370b31–1371a8 118 Ctesias 1378a6–8 174 1378a18–19 174 FGrHist 688 1380b35–6 174 F 1b 12n55 1381b34 174 F 5 12n55 1395a8–13 253n68 1395a10–18 239, 253 1395a14 240 Demosthenes 1402a17–28 25 1402a17–24 25 Speeches 1402a24–8 25 5.4 29n141 1409a27 13n59 18.4 29n141 1411a2–4 213 18.170 119n47 1417a16–35 173 19.184 66 1417b34–6 173n3 19.261 210n138 20.146 29n141 27.2–3 28 Athenian Constitution 59.94 283n170 60.8–11 287n195 58.1 264 60.23 213n150

Augustus Diodorus Siculus

Res Gestae Divi Augusti Library 34 77 10.27 181n30 11.34.4–5 185n51 11.35.4 186n51 Bacchylides 12.35 18n88 12.53 25 11.104 23n111, 46 13.98.1 252n61 15.74.5 252n61 19.81.6 252n61 Caesar

Gallic War 2.20.1–2 239 356 index of passages cited pseudo-Dionysius of Halicarnassus Phoenician Women 1143–8 243n30 Art of Rhetoric 1252–3 243n30 255–92 Usener/Radermacher 240 283.20–292 Usener/Radermacher 240 Suppliants 285.5–8 Usener/Radermacher 240 438–41 119n47 286.5–9 Usener/Radermacher 240 447–9 213n150 290.5–292 Usener/Radermacher 240 576–7 283n173 701–5 243n30 711–12 243n30 Ephorus

FGrHist 70 Gorgias F 180 24 n114 Funeral Oration 82 B 5a D–K 124n65 Euripides 82 B 6 D–K 28n138

Andromache Helen 234 118n43 8 25n120 10–11 26n127 Electra 11 25n120 700–40 224 Olympic Oration Hecuba 82 B 8 D–K 118 107–40 55n81 929–32 243n30 Testimonia 82 A 8 D–K 118 Helen 1033 121 1593–5 243n30 Hecataeus of Miletus 1597–9 243n30 1603–4 243n30 FGrHist 1 F 1a 22 Heraclids F 30 23, 46 116 118n43 T 20 23 824–9 243n30

Hippolytus Hellanicus 310 40n12 FGrHist 4 Medea F 59–60 15n71 403 243–4n31 F 161 210n138 546 290n211 912 119n45 Hermogenes Orestes 638–9 66n114 Progymnasmata 15.24–8 Spengel 240 index of passages cited 357

Herodotus 1.206.3 57n89, 121n55 1.210.2 148 Histories 2.111.2 93 Prologue/proem 74n145, 75 2.116 20 1.1–5 23n109, 26 2.118.3 209 1.5.3–4 315 3.1.4 74n147 1.5.3 315 3.16 91n207 1.20 132 3.20–1 234 1.21–2 179 3.21.1 234 1.22.1 179 3.25 234 1.27 124n65 3.34.3 259 1.29.1 179n23 3.38 12n51 1.34–5 49n65 3.46 127n79 1.53–70 17 3.46.1 66, 66n116 1.56–7 210 3.46.2 67 1.60.3 189n63 3.47 221n179 1.65.1 278 3.47.1 67, 221n179 1.66–8 206 3.56 197 1.66 278 3.71 149 1.67–8 278 3.71–87 94n218 1.69 197 3.71.4–5 149 1.69.2 157n189, 179, 219n175 3.72.1 149n161 1.69.3–4 179 3.72.2 6n23, 94 1.70.1 179 3.72.4–5 26n127, 94, 149 1.82 61, 157n189, 184n43 3.76.3 117n35 1.85.4 44 3.80 132n96 1.86.3 44 3.80–2 12n51, 97, 104, 128, 1.86.4 121n54 130n90, 150n164 1.94.1 179n23 3.80.1 5n18, 150, 309 1.95–6 129n83 3.80.2 121n55, 148n154 1.97.2–98.1 104, 147n150 3.81.1–2 147 1.98.2–100 147n150 3.81.3 147n151 1.99.1 123 3.82 94 1.118 47n49 3.82.5 148 1.125.2 47n49 3.83.2 118n43, 148 1.133.3–4 116 3.85–7 95, 149 1.135.1 195n82 3.89–96 136n108 1.142 18 3.122–4 179 1.143.3 193 3.127 95 1.152.1–2 67 3.134.5 200 1.152.1 67 3.134.6 6nn23–4 1.153.1 106 3.142–3 128, 260 1.153.2 106 3.148 199 1.163–7 142n132 3.156.2–3 47n49 1.170 128, 142n132, 260 4.77.1 77 1.170.2 191n66 4.83.1 272n137 1.206.3–208 97, 104 4.83.2 51 1.206.3–207.1 57n90 4.84 273n144 358 index of passages cited

Herodotus (cont.) 5.32 274n150 5.35 58 Histories (cont.) 5.35 136 4.97.2–98 97 5.35.1–2 192 4.97.2 120n50 5.35.1 136, 191 4.98 127 5.36 136, 138n118 4.98.2 121n54 5.36.1 136, 138n117 4.110–17 280 5.36.2–3 58, 136 4.110.1 280 5.36.2 56–7 4.118 23, 47n49 5.36.4 58, 119n44 4.118.2 142n132, 180 5.37.2 128, 137, 137n115, 195 4.118.3–5 180 5.38.2 128, 188 4.120.1 180 5.42–8 197 4.126–7 234 5.42–6 205n114 4.131–135.1 94n219 5.45.1 205n115 4.131–2 234 5.49–51 178, 188, 198n95 4.131.2–132 98, 104 5.49–50 67 4.133 127 5.49.1 137n115, 194–5 4.136.3–4 127 5.49.2–9 76 4.137 127, 129 5.49.2–8 59, 256, 268 4.137.1–2 56n86 5.49.2–3 184, 256 4.137.1 86n189, 266 5.49.2 157n189 4.137.2 51, 128, 128n81 5.49.3–4 188 4.138.1 127n80 5.49.3 157n189, 181, 256 4.139 129 5.49.4–8 183 4.140–1 129 5.49.4–5 194 4.142 129, 260 5.49.5–7 197n90 4.147–65 197n89 5.49.5 194, 314n32 5.11 110n19 5.49.6 197n90, 314n32 5.21.1 254n77 5.49.7 196 5.23.2–3 94, 138 5.49.8 188, 196 5.24 94 5.49.9 68 5.24.1 6n24, 23, 94n220 5.50 198 5.24.3–4 94 5.50.2 198, 199n98, 201n104, 5.24.3 94n220 202 5.28 183, 190 5.50.3 68, 71n135, 203 5.30–5 188 5.51 43, 50, 67, 113 5.30–1 178 5.51.1 43, 43n32 5.30.2 181 5.51.2–3 43, 199 5.30.3–6 50 5.51.2 199 5.30.3 189, 191 5.55–96 193 5.30.4 51, 189 5.55 265, 265n109 5.30.5 181, 183–4, 189 5.57 263n103 5.30.6 190–1 5.58 265n109 5.31.1 23, 47n49 5.62 265n109 5.31.2–3 183, 190 5.67 206n122 5.31.2 185 5.67.1 129, 129n85 5.31.3 188 5.69.1 129, 129n85, 193 index of passages cited 359

5.70–4 195n80 5.99.1 63 5.70.1 133, 189n63 5.100–102.1 261n94 5.72.3 68n119, 207 5.103.1 178n18, 193 5.73 109, 178n18, 225, 232, 5.103–4 261n94 233n225 5.105 136n110 5.74–5 109 5.106.3–6 76 5.74 131n94 5.106.6 191n66 5.74.1 6n24 5.107 202n108 5.75 134 5.118 58n93 5.75.1 134, 134n103 5.118.2–3 58n92 5.75.3 134 5.118.2 56n87 5.77 109 5.118.3 119n44 5.78 108–9, 184n44 5.121 261n94 5.79–80 107, 112–13, 206n122 5.124–6 137 5.90 130 5.124.2–126 142n132 5.91–3 49 5.124.2 138n117, 191n66 5.91 131, 133 5.125 138n118 5.91.1–2 184n44 5.126.2 136, 138 5.91.1 30–1, 130 6.6–7 257 5.91.2–3 30, 67, 130 6.9 234 5.91.2 133 6.9.1 258n88 5.92–93.1 50 6.9.3–4 178 5.92 76, 112 6.10 261 5.92.1 54n77, 131n94 6.11 245n37, 246n37 5.92α.1–2 132 6.11.1 56n87, 253 5.92α.1 132, 134n103, 223 6.11.2–3 76, 82, 245n37, 247, 257 5.92β–η 132n95 6.11.2 250–1, 253 5.92ζ.1–η.1 179n19 6.11.3 250 5.92ζ.1 132 6.12.1 261n93 5.92η.2 133 6.12.2 261 5.92η.5 133, 135 6.12.3–4 259 5.93 131, 221 6.12.3 76, 128, 259 5.93.1 50, 135 6.12.4 260 5.93.2 44, 131, 134, 221n181 6.13.1 261 5.94.1 225 6.14.1 261 5.95.2 133 6.14.3 74n147, 261 5.96.2 193, 193n75 6.17 259n90 5.97 58, 108–9, 178, 188 6.19 63n104 5.97.1–2 59n94, 183, 202 6.19.2 63n103 5.97.1 183–4, 188, 192n71, 193, 6.43.3 128, 150, 150n164, 201n104 150n166, 309 5.97.2 59, 110, 151, 181, 184, 6.45.2 118n40 189, 191–3, 201n104, 6.48–9 233n225 203 6.50.3 68n119 5.97.3 110, 136n110, 193, 6.54 235 222n188 6.61–70 67n118 5.98.1 192 6.62–5 264 5.98.2 137n115 6.63.3 75n152 360 index of passages cited

Herodotus (cont.) 7.2 88 7.2.3 89 Histories (cont.) 7.3.2–3 51 6.67.2 157n191 7.3.4 88n193 6.68–9 157n190 7.5–6 88, 151 6.70.3 6n23 7.5.1 152n175 6.75.2 259 7.5.2–6.1 152 6.77.2 63, 63n103 7.5.2–3 202, 256 6.84.2–3 178n18 7.5.2 90n197, 131n91, 202, 6.86 165 256, 293n216 6.94–120 68 7.5.3 89n197, 200 6.94 136n110, 233n225 7.6.1 152n175, 202 6.100.1–2 116n32 7.6.4 90n199 6.105 267 7.8–11 12n51 6.106 178, 263 7.8 89–90 6.106.2 184, 257n85, 266 7.8.1 151 6.106.3 67, 228n206 7.8α 256 6.108 177, 280 7.8α.1–2 88n194, 90n200 6.108.1 282 7.8α.2–β.3 131n91, 256 6.108.2–4 178 7.8α.2 89, 89n197 6.108.2–3 219n175 7.8β.1–3 89n197 6.109.1–2 116n32 7.8β.1 90, 95n224 6.109.1 18 7.8γ 256 6.109.2–6 49 7.8γ.1 13n56, 124n64 6.109.2 58n92, 112, 119n44 7.8γ.3 90n200, 131n91, 256, 6.109.3–6 25, 27n135, 82, 86, 273, 293n216 245n37, 246n37, 247, 7.8δ.1 90n200, 256 250–1, 255, 262, 314 7.8δ.2 120n50, 121n55, 151 6.109.3 251, 256n83, 7.9 152 263nn100–102, 264, 7.9.1–2 131n91, 202, 256 265n111 7.9.1 152 6.109.4–5 268 7.9.2 202 6.109.4 265n111 7.9α 202 6.109.5 250 7.9α.1 202, 256 6.109.6 263n100, 265, 265n111 7.9β.1–γ 202 6.112.3 195 7.9β.2–γ 256 6.114 86, 267, 267n119 7.9β.1–2 19n92 6.120 228n206 7.9β.1 164n215 6.121–4 265 7.9γ 90n198 6.123.2 264–5, 314 7.10 ff. 165n219 6.131.1 128–9 7.10.1 54n77, 152–3, 165n217, 6.131.2 133 220 6.132–3 86n189 7.10α.1 25, 153 6.132 201, 266 7.10α.2 153 6.133.1 201 7.10α.3 291 6.135.1 201 7.10β.1 95n224, 153, 282n169, 6.136.1 201, 266 291 6.140.1 86n189 7.10δ.1 154 index of passages cited 361

7.10η.1–2 202 7.99.1 159, 159n195 7.10η.2 24n116, 156 7.99.2 159 7.11 90, 154 7.101–5 75, 90, 156, 301 7.11.1 92n208, 152–3, 161n205, 7.101–4 124n65 274n147 7.101 90 7.11.2 89n194 7.101.1 92n208, 161n205 7.11.3 118n40 7.101.2 111n20, 292 7.11.4 13n56 7.102 19n92, 157n190 7.12–18 88, 154n182 7.102.1–2 156n188 7.12 154 7.103 90 7.12.2 154 7.103.1 92n208, 157n191 7.13.2–3 155 7.103.4 292, 301 7.13.2 95, 155 7.104 19n92, 157n190 7.13.3 153 7.104.5 184n43 7.14 88, 155 7.105 91n203, 92n208, 121n54, 7.15–17 155 157n191 7.15.1 92n209 7.131 233n225 7.18.2 153n178 7.132 110 7.28–9 92 7.133 233n225 7.28.3 92n208 7.133.1 157n189, 233 7.32 233n225 7.134–6 157n189 7.33 13 7.135 234 7.35.1–2 91 7.135.1 6n24 7.35.2–3 91 7.136.2 92–3, 205n117, 273 7.37.3 92n208 7.139 4n14, 230n213, 232, 309 7.39.1 92, 92n208, 114n27 7.139.4 221 7.39.3 91, 273n144 7.139.6 108n15 7.43 13 7.140–1 107 7.45–46.2 92 7.142 108 7.46.1 153n177 7.142.1–2 56n86 7.50.2 90n198 7.142.2 116n32 7.50.3 90n198 7.143 51, 79 7.51.2–3 236 7.143.1–2 108 7.51.2 184n48 7.143.3 108 7.52.2 92 7.144 79 7.53 82, 90, 204, 246, 7.144.1 137 246n37, 247, 291, 301, 7.145 17, 278n159 315 7.145.1 17, 178, 278n159 7.53.1 90n200, 251, 291–2, 7.145.2 60–1, 182, 184n46 292n215 7.146–7 93 7.53.2 90n200, 250–1, 291, 7.147.1 93 291n214 7.148–52 61, 110 7.54 91 7.148–9 58, 212 7.54.3 91n206 7.148 63n105 7.56.2 124 7.148.2 61 7.61 15n71 7.148.3–149 61, 178 7.61.1 195n82 7.148.3 60 7.99 129n84 7.149.3 212 362 index of passages cited

Herodotus (cont.) 7.173.3 220n177 7.173.4 220n177 Histories (cont.) 7.174 187 7.150–2 15n71 7.175 57n91 7.150 13, 181, 235 7.175.1–2 73 7.150.1 13n56 7.175.1 56, 57n91, 80, 119n44 7.150.2–3 178 7.176–7 57n91 7.150.2 23, 182 7.178.2 110 7.150.3 212 7.187.2 274n148 7.151 178, 181 7.201–39 68 7.153–63 311n27 7.202 186n52 7.153–6 184n46, 205n114 7.203 178, 186 7.155.1 26n124 7.203.1 186n54 7.156 184n46 7.203.2 186n54 7.157–63 110 7.204 74, 74n146, 89n194 7.157–62 53, 58, 60, 111, 203 7.205.3 73, 73n144 7.157–62.1 178 7.206 228n206 7.157.1 208 7.206.1–2 186 7.157.2–3 60, 268n121 7.207 57n90, 73, 186, 186n52 7.157.2 184, 204, 213n147 7.208.1 74n146, 186n52 7.157.3 183, 204 7.209–210.1 91 7.158.1–2 182 7.209 75, 156, 157n190, 301 7.158.1 204, 212n145 7.209.2–210.1 50n68 7.158.2 182, 205 7.209.2 91n204, 92n208, 7.158.3 205 157n191 7.159 76, 205, 208, 216n162, 7.209.3–4 156n188 285n182 7.209.4 184n43 7.159.1 213n147 7.210–11 186n53 7.160.1 114n27, 210n135 7.210.1 91n205, 92n208 7.160.2 214 7.212.1 92 7.161 76, 210 7.213 121n54, 186n53 7.161.1 210n136, 213n147, 7.213.1 90 215n156 7.215 90, 92n208 7.161.2 29, 211 7.219.1 73 7.161.3 210–11 7.219.2 73 7.162 213n147 7.220.2 73, 74n149, 75 7.162.1 212–13, 216n162 7.220.3–4 74 7.163 215 7.220.4 15n71, 74n146, 75 7.165 214 7.219.2 57n90, 116n32 7.166 214 7.223.3 119n49 7.168–9 58, 110 7.224.1 75 7.168 61 7.225.1 117 7.168.1 60, 178 7.226.2 73, 73n143, 301 7.169 61, 63n105, 178, 285n182 7.233 233n225 7.169.1 60 7.234–7 90, 156 7.172 178 7.234–5 75 7.172.2–3 187 7.234.1 91, 156 7.172.2 182, 187 7.234.3 91, 157 index of passages cited 363

7.235 19n92, 157 8.58.1 80 7.236 158 8.58.2 119n46, 140, 160 7.236.1 111n20, 158 8.59–63 50n67, 84, 124n68, 138 7.236.2 158 8.59–62 80 7.237 92, 158 8.59–60.1 112, 141n127 7.237.1 161n205 8.59 51, 83–4, 83n180, 7.238.1 91 117–18, 140n126, 141 7.238.2 92, 92n208 8.59.1 119n46 8.1–26 68 8.60.1 141nn127–8 8.2.2–3.1 208 8.60α–γ 25, 82, 86, 141, 255 8.3.1 139n122, 211 8.60α 25n121, 182n38 8.3.2 118n40, 211, 274n150 8.60γ 183n41, 256 8.4.1 139 8.61 51, 83, 112, 141n127 8.4.2 139 8.61.1 141 8.5 139 8.61.2 141 8.5.1 139n121 8.62.1 142 8.5.2 80, 80n167 8.62.2 112, 142, 160, 187n56, 8.5.3 162 231 8.9 56n88 8.63 83n180, 119n48 8.15.1 248, 248–9n49 8.64.1 110n19, 117, 119n48 8.15.2 240, 247–9, 8.65 114 248–9n49 8.65.4–5 114 8.19 80 8.67–9 50n67 8.19.1 185n50 8.67.1–2 120n51 8.22.1–2 80, 178 8.67.2 113, 119 8.22.1 182, 184 8.68–9 160n201 8.22.2 185 8.68 160 8.22.3 162, 185 8.68.1 56n89, 57n90, 120, 8.26 196 120n52, 152n176 8.27–8 298 8.68α–γ 160, 161n207 8.29–30 298 8.68α.1–γ 25 8.30.1–2 298 8.68α.1 159n196 8.30.2 299n235 8.68β 230n213 8.31–3 298n231 8.68β.2 19n92, 111n20 8.39.2 165 8.68γ.2 158 8.40–125 68 8.69.1 158n194, 159n196, 160, 8.49–81 111 160n201 8.49–50 140 8.69.2 90n201, 120n53, 160–1, 8.49 50n67, 80 160n200 8.49.1 83n180, 119, 119n46 8.73.1 210n138, 286 8.49.2 56n89, 119n46 8.74–5 143 8.56–8 143n138 8.74 50n67, 138 8.56 50n67, 80, 119, 138, 140, 8.74.2 55–6, 110n19, 119n46, 140n124 121, 143n137 8.57–58.1 50n68 8.75 162 8.57 50n67, 113 8.75.1 120 8.57.2 80, 112 8.78–83.1 143 8.58.1–62 50n68, 68n122 8.78–82 86n186 364 index of passages cited

Herodotus (cont.) 8.108.4 55n84, 84 8.109 145 Histories (cont.) 8.109.1 144, 144n139 8.78 50n67, 117 8.109.2–4 83 8.79–81 84 8.109.3–4 144 8.79–80 50n67, 86n186, 162 8.109.5 144 8.79.1–2 85n185 8.110 202n108 8.79.2 119n46 8.110.3 144 8.79.3–4 85 8.111–12 144, 260n90 8.79.3 85 8.114.2 92n208 8.80 143 8.118 91 8.81 50n67, 85, 117, 117n37 8.123–4 112 8.83 81, 245n37, 247, 252, 8.125 112, 141n130 309 8.131.2 74n147, 89n194 8.83.1 25, 82 8.132 178n18 8.83.2 83, 248 8.135–6 217 8.84 146 8.135.3 166n222 8.86 119n49, 301n239 8.136 235 8.87 162, 162n209 8.136.1 182, 224 8.87.2 163n210 8.139 74n147, 89n194 8.87.4 162 8.140–4 53, 58, 62, 111, 178, 217, 8.88.1–2 162 233, 233n224 8.88.3 159, 162 8.140 62, 113, 187, 217, 228, 8.90.4 74n147 228n207 8.93.2 159n196, 249n49 8.140α.2 183, 228n207 8.94 146n147 8.140α.3 217n166 8.95 84 8.140α.4 178, 219, 228n207 8.100–3 162 8.140β.1 182, 218, 224 8.100–1 161 8.140β.3 218 8.100.2–5 90 8.140β.4 183 8.100.3 131n91, 202, 256 8.141.1 221 8.100.4 256 8.141.2 62, 223, 227 8.101–2 125n71 8.142 220, 229 8.101.1 90n201, 120, 162, 8.142.1 62, 221n181 162n208 8.142.2 185, 220n178, 222n186, 8.101.2–4 90 222n188 8.101.4 120, 158, 162, 162n208 8.142.3–4 226n202 8.102 163n211 8.142.3 184, 220n178 8.102.1 120 8.142.4 219 8.102.3 161 8.142.5 219, 221 8.103–4 159n196 8.143–4 84, 84n183, 229 8.103 90n201, 158, 161, 235 8.143 223 8.104 159n196 8.143.2 219n174 8.108–9 143, 149n161 8.143.3 182, 224 8.108 55n84, 84 8.144 6n24, 231n218 8.108.1 119n46 8.144.1 62, 225, 227n203 8.108.2 83, 84n181 8.144.2 18, 225, 299n235 index of passages cited 365

8.144.3–5 227 9.18.2 299 8.144.3 226 9.18.3 299 8.144.4 227n202 9.19.3–24 276, 289 8.144.5 68n123 9.20–4 262, 299 8.154.2 215n159 9.20 299 8.156.2–3 215n159 9.21.2 76, 178, 187 9.1–3 62, 228 9.22.1 289n207 9.2 47n49 9.25–89 68 9.2.1–3 164n214 9.25 276 9.2.2–3 76, 164n214 9.25.1 274n148 9.2.3 111n20, 164, 296 9.26–28.1 276 9.3.1 164n215 9.26–7 17, 28, 53, 58, 70, 82, 111, 9.3.2 228 210n139, 212, 248, 255, 9.4–5 178 262, 268, 270, 311n27, 9.4.1 59, 62 314 9.4.2 164n215, 235 9.26 251 9.5 231, 235 9.26.1 117, 276, 279n161, 288, 9.6–11 69, 178, 232n222 288n198 9.6 30–1, 228–9 9.26.2–5 276 9.7–11 53, 58, 111, 233n224 9.26.2 279n162, 288n198 9.7.1 228 9.26.3 277, 288n203 9.7α–β 30 9.26.5 251, 277, 279, 279n162 9.7α.1–β.2 67, 69, 76 9.26.6 279 9.7α.1 219n175, 228n207 9.26.7 278n157, 288n198, 9.7α.2–β.1 299n235 288n201 9.7α.2 183, 229–30, 230n215 9.27 6n24, 251, 279 9.7β.1 229, 229n211, 230n215 9.27.1 29, 70, 286, 286n191, 9.7β.2 229 288–9, 288n198, 9.8.1 69, 69n124 290n211, 315 9.8.2 228, 229n210 9.27.2 250, 280, 286 9.9.1 69 9.27.4–5 287n194, 315 9.9.2 76, 118n40, 230 9.27.4 280–1 9.10.1 69, 230 9.27.5–6 271, 281 9.11.1–2 69, 187, 230 9.27.5 251, 281, 288n203, 9.11.1 69, 230 290n212 9.11.2 69, 230–1, 230n214 9.27.6 270, 286n192, 9.12.3 76 288nn202–3, 289 9.16.2–5 76 9.28.1 70, 289 9.16.3 114n29 9.28.3 289 9.16.4–5 115 9.28.6 282 9.16.5 115n30 9.31 298 9.17.1 298 9.31.2 164n215 9.17.4 76, 82, 245n37, 9.33.3 118n40 247–8, 251, 254, 297–8, 9.35.2 278 299n232 9.37.4 278 9.18 297 9.38 294 9.18.1 248 9.38.2–39.1 164n215 366 index of passages cited

Herodotus (cont.) 9.60.3 250n56, 270, 270n129 9.61–4 296 Histories (cont.) 9.61.1 269 9.38.2 294 9.61.2 277 9.40 195 9.62.2 117, 117n33 9.41–42.1 246, 293 9.62.3–63 195 9.41.1 121n54, 163, 294 9.63 119n49 9.41.2–3 111n20, 163, 296 9.64.1–2 74n147, 89n194 9.41.2 294n220 9.64.1 4n14, 118n40, 289 9.41.4 163–4, 164n215, 296 9.71.1 195 9.42 165n219 9.73 285n182 9.42.1–2 294 9.76 272 9.42.1 164n214, 165 9.76.2 224, 272n135, 274 9.42.2–4 247, 294 9.76.3 274 9.42.2 54n77, 165 9.78–9 272 9.42.3 165 9.78.2 273n140, 274n148 9.42.4 294n219 9.79.1 205n117, 272n136 9.43.2 280 9.79.2 6n24, 274n147 9.44.1 221, 247n44, 248 9.82 202n107, 272 9.46–7 288, 295 9.82.3 70n133, 272n137, 275 9.46.2 282n169 9.85 291 9.48–49.1 70, 288 9.86 280 9.48 277, 295n224 9.87–8 272 9.48.1–3 295 9.87 164n213 9.48.3 277 9.88 272 9.49.1 70n129, 277 9.89 163n212 9.51–7 288 9.90–113 68 9.51.1–2 71n136 9.90.1 202–3 9.51.1 56n88 9.90.2–91.2 178 9.52–7 269 9.90.2–3 202, 300–1 9.53–5 71, 269 9.90.2 181n34, 183–4, 203, 9.54–5 72 256 9.54.1 219n175 9.91.2 71n134, 203 9.55.2 71n137 9.92.1 6n24 9.56–7 269 9.96.2 274n148 9.58 297 9.98.2–3 178 9.58.2–4 248, 250, 294 9.98.2 182 9.58.2 250n56, 269, 295, 9.98.3 184 295n223 9.98.4 185 9.58.3 250n56, 296 9.102.2–3 195 9.58.4 131n91 9.102.2 203, 248–9n49 9.59.1 296 9.103.1 195, 203 9.60 245n37, 248, 250, 9.104.2 275n151 250n55, 268, 297 9.106.2–4 181n34 9.60.1 250, 250n56, 270n129, 9.106.2–3 116n32, 142n132 271n130, 271n132 9.107.1 159n196 9.60.2 269n122, 270–1, 270n129 9.108–13 91, 273n143 index of passages cited 367

9.111.5 92n208 4.1 253, 254n73 9.114–21 275n151 4.231–421 242n19 9.114.2 17 4.422–45 14n63 9.116–20 13n57 4.437–8 14 9.116 13 6.119–236 273 9.122 272n137 6.164–5 45 7.76 23n110 7.125 209 Hesiod 7.298 118n43 7.350 209n132 Theogony 8.2–40 123n62 222 224n192 8.28–30 42, 53n76 8.160–71 70n130 Works and Days 8.228–44 242n19 249 224n192 8.230 253, 254n73 706 224n192 9.149–53 206n119 9.204 175 9.260–98 175 Hippias 9.430–1 42 9.442–3 6 86 B 17 D–K 24n116 9.630–1 175n12 9.642 175 10.68 74n147 Homer 10.173 253–4, 253n71 11.602–6 51 Iliad 11.656–803 40n14 1.24–32 209n131 13.47–59 242n19 1.304–5 118n41 14.90–4 42 1.531–69 123 15.346–9 23 2.5 ff. 154n182 16.198–209 242n19 2.701–2 13 16.388 224n192 2.110–41 242n19 17.414–23 249 2.190–7 54 18.497–508 21 2.198–201 42 19.86–90 209n131 2.200–6 54 19.137–8 209n131 2.211–12 53n74 20.4–30 123n62 2.212–69 141n131 20.353–73 250 2.244–64 41 22.395 ff. 273 2.284–333 242n19 24.33–119 123n62 2.482–3 209n131 24.723–776 21 2.546–56 210n142 12.243 240 2.555 210n142 2.867 14 Odyssey 3.70 209n132 1.26–95 123 3.149–52 125 1.325–65 45n39 3.154–60 54 1.353–59 41 3.212–23 21 2.6–257 125, 125n72 368 index of passages cited

Homer (cont.) 4.158–9 284n176 12.72–89 209n134 Odyssey (cont.) 4.514–20 206n119 5.3–42 123 Longinus 8.10–15 125 8.25–47 125 On the Sublime 8.532–3 53n74 13.3 20n97 10.46 119 27.1–2 23 11.563 40 14.12 224n192 16.90 40 Lysias 16.342–408 125n72 16.379 254 Fragments 16.393–4 54 F 350 288n200 20.215 224n192 20.240–7 125n72 Speeches 21.28 224n192 12.3 29n141 24.421–64 125n72

Mimnermus Horace 13a W 22 Art of Poetry 14 W 243 401–2 243

Nicolaus of Damascus Hypereides FGrHist 90 Speeches F 44 24 6.5 224n190 F 47 24 6.37–9 314

Onasander Ion of Chios Strategikos FGrHist 392 1.13 240 F 16 216 F 6 24 Pausanias tgf 63 66 Description of Greece 1.8.5 264 Isocrates 1.27.5 157n193 7.1.8 206n120 Speeches 4.83 284n176 4.85–7 16 index of passages cited 369

Pindar Plutarch

Isthmian Aristeides 5.58 224n192 5 79 8.31–5a 23n111, 46 5 84 10 84 Nemean 10.3–6 84n183 3.60 14n63 8.12 206n119 Cimon 11.34 206n119 14.3–5 23

Olympian Concerning Talkativeness 1.89–96 208n128 513a 66 2.6 224n192 10.24–77 208n128 Crassus 32 91n207 Pythian 8.71 224n192 On the Malice of Herodotus 11.16 206n119 866a 75n150 11.31–2 206n119 869d–f 140n125

Pericles Plato 3.3 125n75 28.5 217, 284 Ion 540d 240, 252n64 Precepts of Statecraft 540d–541b3 242 803b 238n1

Menexenus Sayings of Spartans 246c 256n84 225 73n143

Phaedrus Table-Talk 267a–b 25 628d 263n103 271e–272b 28n138 273a–c 25 Themistocles 11.3 142 Protagoras 316d–e 118 Tiberius Gracchus 335a 118 9.5 239 339e 118 342d–343a 66 pmg Sophist 232d–e 118 893–6 263 370 index of passages cited

Polybius Simonides

1.60.5 251n60 11 W 2.64.1 251n60 11.15 273n142 12.25a.3 239–40 11.28 273n142 12.25.7–9 238n1 11.35 273n142 12.26a 238n1 14 W 22

Quintilian ‘Simonides’

Institutes of Oratory fge xl 284 5.11.21 253n68 10.1.47 242n22 Solon

Rhetoric to Alexander 1–3 W 243 1421b9 240 34.3 W 220n176 1422a4–15 173, 182n39 1424b27–1425a8 172 1424b27–8 172 Sophocles 1424b29–33 172n2 1424b35–1425a6 172 Ajax 1425a4–6 177 1059 254n78 1425a9–28 173, 201 1142–9 66n114 1425a14–15 174 1425a27–8 176 Electra 1436b10 173 1491–2 118n43 1436b18–29 174 1436b31 173 Oedipus at Colonus 1436b36 173 1252 ff. 40n12 1438b19 173 1439a8–40 173 Philoctetes 1439b15–36 174 1329–31 224n190 1440a26–9 174

Stephanus Byzantius Samuel Θούριοι 13n59 1 Sam. 8: 11–20 150 n164

Stesichorus Sappho fr. 39 pmg 206n119 1.18 L–P 46 index of passages cited 371

Stesimbrotus of Thasos 1.67–88 51, 126, 143n136 1.71.4 174n7 FGrHist 107 1.73.2 286n188, 287n197 F 5 23 1.73.4 282n169 F 7 23 1.74–5 260n92 F 9 23 1.79.2 54n80 1.86.1 64 1.87.2 70n127 Suda 1.88 131n92 1.90–91 70n126 Ἡρόδοτος 13n59, 18n87 1.95.1 174n7 1.95.3 275 1.99 260n92 Theocritus 1.118.3 63n105 1.124.1 174n7 25.4 224n192 1.130.1 275 1.135–8 144 1.139.4 6n21, 54n80 Theognis 2.8.4 222n185 2.10.3 241n13 53–60 107n11 2.12.2 119 2.13 137n112 2.22.1 125, 308n13 Theon 2.35–46 241 2.36.4 287 Progymnasmata 2.39.1 65n113 115.12–16 Spengel 240 2.40.1–2 65 2.41.4 284, 287 2.41.5 256n84 Thucydides 2.51.5 175n10 2.63.3 131n93 History 2.65.9 133n101 1.1 23n109 2.68.3–5 18n86 1.2.3 210n138, 286 2.86.6 55, 241n14 1.12.3 207n123 2.87 250n54 1.18.1 222n185 2.88.1 241n14 1.18.2 16 2.89 250n54 1.21–2 29 3.9–14 173 1.22.1–2 6 3.13.3–7 174n6 1.22.1 5, 5n18, 31 3.36.6 54n80 1.25.1 63n105 3.37–49 126 1.32–6 173 3.37.2 131n93 1.32.1 174n6 3.52–68 126 1.33.1 173n6 3.53–68 175, 288 1.36.3 173n6 3.54.3 282n169, 283n170 1.40.5 173 3.67.6–7 287 1.41.2 173 3.67.6 70n128, 118n43, 290n211 1.44.1 55n83 4.9.4 241n14 372 index of passages cited

Thucydides (cont.) 7.65.3 55 7.66–8 250n54 History (cont.) 7.69 74n147 4.11.1 241n14 7.69.2 251 4.17–20 173 7.70.7 241n13, 249, 249n50 4.17.1 174n6 7.76–7 55n84 4.17.2 65, 65n111 4.53 157n193 4.58.1 54n80 Tyrtaeus 4.84.2 65, 72n140 4.85.1 222n185 2.13–15 W 207n123 4.87.2–3 182n36 10–12 W 243 4.88.1 55n82 11.1 W 207n123 4.92 250n54 4.95 250n54 4.108.5 219n175 Virgil 4.114.4 182n36 5.6–11 149n160 Aeneid 5.9.1 260n92 6.467–71 40n10 5.9.10 65n112 5.10.11 65n112 5.45.2 189n63 Xenophon 5.68.2 65n113 5.69 239 Anabasis 5.69.1 239, 241n14 1.7.3–4 126n78 5.69.2 65n110, 239, 241n14 1.10.1 91n207 5.84–113 126, 175 3.1.17 91n207 5.89 287 4.6.10–16 72 6.8–26 126 4.6.14 72 6.9.3 260n92 4.6.16 73 6.46 179n20 6.2.12 119n45 6.46.3 179n20 6.53–9 266 Cyropaedia 6.53.3 265 1.2.3 107n11 6.59.4 265 3.3.34–45 301n240 6.67.3 249n50 3.3.43 240 6.70–1 137n112 6.75–88 173 Hellenica 6.77.1 260n92 1.1.23 66n115 6.85.1 131n93, 175 6.3.6 177 6.88.7 174n7 6.5.41 177 7.5.4 260n92 6.5.45–7 177 7.14.2 260n92 6.5.45 177 7.60.5 241n14 7.61–4 250n54 Memorabilia 7.65.1 241n14 3.2 209n134 General Index

Abydos 291 Alcmaeonids 130, 264–5, 265n109, 314 Xerxes and Artabanus at 90, 92, 235–6 Herodotus and 265, 265n109 Achaemenes (brother of Xerxes) 92, 111, Alexander I of Macedon 111n20, 156–8 advises the Greeks at Tempe 220n177 Achilles 6, 14, 14n64, 19, 21, 40, 40n14, 42, speech to the Athenians 62, 96–7, 112–13, 51, 55n81, 122–3, 175, 175n12, 209, 211, 250, 182–3, 187, 217–27, 231–2 259n89, 273, 273n42, 275 alliance speeches in Herodotus Acropolis Alexander, Spartans and and ‘wooden wall’ oracle 118 Athenians 217–27 Cleomenes on the 68n119, 207 Aristagoras 187–203 Adeimantus 50–1, 83–4, 112, 117, 118n39, 135, Athenians and Spartans 227–33 139–42, 139n121, 141nn130–1, 146n147 Greeks and Gelon 203–17 Aegina, Aeginetans 56, 107, 133, 146, Alyattes 179 206n122, 210n139, 272, 278n159 Amasis 91n207 Aeneas, speech of in the Aeneid 40 ambiguous Aeschylus arguments 280, 314 Agamemnon 40, 46 Greekness 18, 226 alliance speeches and 176 motivation 208–9, 208n128, 227, 233, 266 alternation of speech modes in 46, see also Greeks 46n45 Amompharetus 66n116, 71–2, 269 and Herodotus on Xerxes 95–6 Amphinomus 53–4 barbarians in 13–15, 115–16 Anacharsis 77 Eumenides 22n106, 176 Andros 143–4, 190 exhortations in 243 Greek debate at 55n84, 83–4, 149n161 Greek disunity and 19 antilogiai, dissoi logoi 25 Persians 10n42, 13–15, 13n61, 15n71, 95–6, Antiphon 25, 27, 244 95nn225–6, 115–16, 213n150, 243, Dissoi Logoi (treatise) 25 254n78 Protagoras 25 Seven Against Thebes 19 Antinous 53–4, 125 silence in 40, 40n13 Archilochus 243 Suppliants 13, 15, 176 Argos, Argives 12–13, 15, 58–65, 63nn103–4 see also Darius and 106, 76, 129n85, 176–8, 181–2, 181n32, Agamemnon 42, 80n169, 96, 96n230, 122–4, 196, 198, 206n122, 212, 212n146, 235–6, 236n, 205–9, 206nn118–19, 209nn131 and 134, 239, 278, 280, 282, 309 210–11, 216–17, 281, 284, 285n182, see also Aristagoras Herodotus, Xerxes Artaphrenes and 187–91, 200–1 agon/antagonism/contest Hegesistratus and 202–3 competition among the Greeks passim Miltiades and 200–1 and see also debates in Herodotus, Naxians and 50–1, 189–90 Greeks ‘rhetoric of deceit’ 187–203 competitive climate of fifth century 27 speech of, at Athens 58–9, 187–203 ‘contest of words’ 22, 91, 118–19, 290 (passim) literary competition 27, see also speech of, at Sparta 43, 50–1, 67, 187–203 metahistory (passim) 374 general index

use of map by 67, 193–5, 197–9, 311, Plataeans, pre-battle speeches in 313–14 Herodotus, Salamis, self-interest, Sparta, see also debates in Herodotus, deception, Themistocles, tyranny expediency, Hecataeus, Histiaeus, Atossa Ionian revolt, kinship, manipulation, in Aeschylus 15, 96 Mardonius, opportunism, self-interest, Xerxes and 88–9 vested interests Attica 140, 227–8, 229n211, 235, 280, 284n175 Aristeides 50n67, 84–6, 84n183, 86n186, 143, autochthony 210, 215, 266–7, 284, 286–7 146n146 Aristophanes Bacchiads 132n98 alternation of speech modes 46–7 Bakhtin 8, 305–6, 305n1, 306nn2–3 and 5 and barbarians 15n74 Boeotia, Boeotians 69, 109, 131, 227, 228–9 and Greek unity 16 Brasidas 38n6, 55, 65, 72n140, 149n160, criticism of rhetoric 28 182n36, 219n175, 260n92 exhortations and 244 parody of Aeschylus in 40 Callimachus 49, 86, 247n42, 255, 262–7, 314 sophists and 314 Callinus 243 Aristotle Cambyses 91n207, 95n221, 148, 153n178, 234, Rhetoric 3, 13n59, 21, 24, 27, 34, 118, 173–7 259, 301 (passim), 213, 239–40, 241n18, 253 Chalcidians 63, 109, 131 Artabanus 12, 12n51, 24n116, 25, 38, 51, 78, Chileus 67, 69, 76, 230, 230n213, 232, 89–90, 92, 114, 166, 184n48, 196, 235–6, 232nn221 and 223 272n137, 274, 291 Cicero Herodotus and 202n108 called Herodotus ‘father of history’ in the Persian council scene (book 1, 1n2 7) 152–6, 202 Cleisthenes (of Athens) 109, 128–9, 129n85, Artabazus 97, 111, 163–5, 246, 293–4, 296 193 Artaphrenes 135, 153, 177–8, 181, 183–5, Cleomenes 19n92, 59, 61, 67, 71, 109–10, 187–91, 187n58, 189n61, 200–1 113, 130, 133–4, 151, 177–8, 181, 183–4, 189, Artaÿctes 13, 275n151 195–9, 203, 232, 259, 268, 311, 314, see also Artemisia 19n92, 25, 74n145, 78, 89, 89n196, Acropolis, Aristagoras (speech of, at 90, 97, 111, 114, 120, 166, 230n213, 310, Sparta), Gorgo see also debates in Herodotus Cleon 42, 126 Artemisium, battle of 68, 160, 185, 202 Clytaemestra 46, 46n45 debates in the narrative of 68, 108, common 139–40 benefit 123 narrative of 80, 82, 249 cause 59, 62, 110–11, 140, 167, 206, 208, 211, Athena 55, 123, 125 216, 231, 298, 301, 312 Athenian patriotic rhetoric 293, 314, see also danger/threat 60, 184, 268 myth fight 204 Athens, Athenians passim and see also goal/aim 251, 290–2 Adeimantus, alliance speeches in good 106, 123, 144, 173, 191, 237, 316 Herodotus, ambiguous, Aristeides, interest(s) 131, 257 Athenian patriotic rhetoric, Cleisthenes, Constitutional Debate 5n18, 12n51, 25, 94, debates in Herodotus, democracy, 104, 121n55, 128, 130n90, 146–51, 309 epitaphios logos, freedom, Ionia, Corax 25, 25n119 Marathon, Mardonius, myth, oracles, Corcyra, Corcyreans 51, 55, 58–61, 64, 173–5, oratory (epideictic), Pericles, Plataea, 174n6, 182 general index 375

Corinth, Corinthians 50–1, 55, 84, 131–5, Danube bridge debate 127–30 141–2, 143n136, 174–5, 210, see also Salamis debates 140–6 Adeimantus, Socles Spartans and allies 130–5 Cretans, Crete 58–61, 64, 181n33, 182, in Persia 285n182 Constitutional Debate 146–51 Croesus 17, 38, 44, 87, 97, 121n55, 136, debate on the Greek expedition 157n189, 179, 206, 221, 272n137, 296, 301 151–6 Ctesias 12n55 Mardonius and Artabazus 163–6 cultural relativism 16 Xerxes and Artemisia 158–63 Cyclades 183, 190–1 Xerxes and Demaratus 156–8 Cypselids 132–3 deception/deceit, deceptive 26, 28, 94–5, Cypselus 132–3, 132nn97–8, 133n101 129, 132, 143, 149, 167, 179, 185, 189, 191, 202, Cyrus 219–20, 227, 234–6, 266, 304, 309, 314, in Herodotus 58n90, 67, 89, 94, 97, 104, see also Aristagoras, Darius, Mardonius, 106, 106n9, 107n12, 121n55, 132n97, 148, Themistocles 153n178, 272n137, 296, 301 Delphi, Delphic oracle in Xenophon Alcmaeonids and 264 Cyrus the Elder 15n71, 301n240 Argives and 63n104, 212 Cyrus the Younger 91n207, 126n78 Athens and 79, 107, 108n15, see also Cythera 157, 157n193 oracles (‘wooden wall’ oracle) Gelon and 215 Darius Leonidas and 74, 74n146 and Ionians 127–9 Mardonius and 165–6, 294 and moralization of deceit 26, 94 Spartans and 278 and Oebazus 93n214, 273n144 Thebans and 107 and Scythian expedition 93–4, 153, see also oracles 153n178 Demaratus 6n23, 19n92, 38, 50n68, 51, 67-, Coes of Mytilene and 110n19, 120 67n118 crossing the Ister 296 discussing with Xerxes 156–8, 292, 301, debate with Coes and Ionian tyrants 310 97 speech of 75, 78, 90–1, 166 Herodotus and 6n22, 26n128, 308n14 Xerxes’ succession and 88 Histiaeus and 94–5, 110n19, 138, 191n66, see also Dicaeus, Xerxes 202n108 democracy, democratic 17, 27–8, 44, 72, 77, in Aeschylus 15n71, 95–6 107–10, 119–21, 126–9, 133, 146–50, 154, 156, on the need for words and actions 6, 94 166–7, 223, 225, 244, 264–5, 304, 309 rhetorical skills of 94–5, 149–50 dialogue 22, 80, 114, 252, 302 Scythian gifts and 234 dialogism, dialogic 8, 58, 253, 275 sophistic reasoning 12n51 intertextuality, intertext 8–9, 13, 15, 19, speech of, in the Constitutional Debate 29, 32, 44–5, 62, 69, 95, 141n131, 208, 94, 147–50 216, 253, 274, 290 steamrolling debate 149–50 openness 89, 99, 105–7, 110–11, 113, 116, Themistocles, Aristagoras and 199n96 120–2, 125, 139, 141, 143, 145, 149, 151, 167, Xerxes and, in Herodotus 93–5 198n96 debates in Herodotus of narrative 253, 305–7 in Greece polyphony, polyphonic 305–6 Aristagoras and Hecateaus 135–8 see also Bakhtin, debates in Herodotus, Artemisium debates 138–40 Melian dialogue 376 general index

Dicaeus 114 fine Dieneces 73, 73n143, 301 arguments 225, 231 Diodorus words 26 exhortations and 244–5, 251–2 freedom, free 33, 121–2, 166–7, 171, 193, 196, pseudo-Dionysius of Halicarnassus 239–40 210, 223, 225, 233–6, 264, 266 Dionysius of Phocaea 76, 82, 128, 245–6n37, as an argument in alliance speeches 178, 246–7, 250–1, 253–4, 257–62, 300, 302 184, 188, 194–6, 203–4, 210, 217–26 display (epideixis) (passim) and Aristagoras’ map 314 as an argument in pre-battle and tyrants 227 speeches 250–7, 263–8 (passim), 271, display oratory 27, 290, 314–15 297, 301 see also Gelon, oratory, performativity Greeks and 17n83, 43, 60, 62, 98–9, 105–12 (Histories and performance), pre-battle (passim), 119, 121, 127–43 (passim) speeches Ionians and 127–9 in Herodotus (Tegeans and Athenians) Persians and 12, 113, 147–51, 153, 156–62 Dorian(s) 62, 68n119, 129n85, 181nn33–4, (passim), 165–6 207, 207nn123–4, 210, 221 violation of free debate 83 Ionians and 18, 174, 174n9, 181–2n34, see also democracy, dialogue 260n92 duplicity 60, 219n175 Gelon, exchanges between Greek messengers and Egypt, Egyptian(s) 15, 88, 94, 235 as alliance speeches 182–4, 203–17, 261 environmental determinism 16, 196 in terms of speech allocation (model Ephialtes 89n196, 90, 186n53 speech) 60–2 epitaphios logos 28n138, 216n161, 286, 289, see also paraleipsis 290n210, 292–3, 316 geographers, geography see Aristagoras (use see also oratory (display/epideictic) of map by), environmental determinism, Eretria, Eretrian(s) 59, 62–4, 262 Hecataeus, Herodotus ethos 3, 78, 174–5, 177, 181, 201 Gobryas 94n219, 234 Euboea, Euboeans 80, 139, 182–3, 188, Gorgias 25, 25n120, 26n127, 27, 28n138, 118, 189–90 124n65, 244 Euripides Gorgo 43–4, 50–1, 112–13, 199 alliance speeches and 176 Greeks alternation of speech modes 46–7 and barbarians passim and 10–16 criticism of rhetoric 28 Greek disunity passim and 16–19 debate in 122 Greek ethnicity/Greek identity/ exhortations and 243 Greekness 16, 18–19, 64, 194, 204, 223, representation of the ‘other’ in 15 225–6 Europe 89, 202, 291, 293 see also freedom, democracy, dialogue, Euryanax 71, 73n142, 269 debates in Herodotus Eurybiades 50n68, 55n84, 56, 68, 82–7 (passim), 110n19, 119–20, 138–44, 160, Harmocydes of Phocis 76, 82, 245–6n37, 187n56, 255, 301 247–8, 251, 253–4, 297–300, 302, see also expediency, expedient 26–7, 61, 106, 111, pre-battle speeches in Herodotus 128, 173, 174–5n10, 177, 183, 188–9, 199, Harmodius and Aristogeiton 222, 230, 242, 268n121, 296, 304, see also (tyrannicides) 262–6, 314 self-interest, self-regarding motivation, Hecataeus 13n60, 22–3, 46 vested interests in the Histories 57–8, 135–8, 310–11 general index 377

Hegesistratus 71, 165n220, 178, 181n34, 183, barbarians in 13–14 201–3, 256, 300–1 Greek disunity 19 Hellespont, crossing of 90–1, 143, 296 Herodotus and 2–3, 20–1 Heraclids Homeric and Herodotean debate 118–19, Athens and, in Xenophon’s Hellenica 121–6 177 Leonidas and Homeric heroes 74 in the Tegean-Athenian debate 250–1, pre-battle speeches and 239, 242–3, 246, 276–7, 279, 282, 288 249–50, 253–4 Sparta and 206–7, 207n123 selectivity in reporting speeches 53–5 Hermogenes 240 silence in 39–43 Herodotus passim and words and action in 6 Agamemnon and 308n17 see also Agamemnon, Achilles, Trojan War, and ethnographers 313–14 Priam, Pericles and geographers 313–14 honourable arguments 173, 177, 242, 252, and Hippocratics 16 300, 312 and his readers passim and 3, 6–7, 8–10, Horace 243 44, 50, 58–9, 62, 69, 72, 82, 134, 150–1, Hyacinthia, festival of 69, 228, 228n206, 230 232, 252–3, 269, 301–16 (passim) hybris, Persians and 95, 124, 296–7 and his sources 4–5, 31, 37, 73n142, 87, Hyperbolus 42 212, 214–15, 218, 261–2, 265, 267n118, 269, 306, 308, 314 idealism 126, 144n142, 172, 267, 304 and power 44–5, 305–16 ideals 174, 312 and sophists 2, 12, 15–16, 20, 22, 24–7, idealistic arguments 302, 312, 146, 153, 199n97, 227, 313–14 idealistic/ideal motivation 33, 131, 191, Aristotle, Rhetoric to Alexander 192n72, 208, 222, 263, 266, 268, and 172–7 see also fine, freedom, moral interest in non-Greeks in predecessors considerations/arguments, nobility, of 10–16 panhellenism, patriotism sophisticated oratorical system passim imperialism 77, 87 and 3, 9, 33, 303, 305 imperialistic stance towards debate 106–16 purposes/policy 12, 165, 293, 309, use of speech in predecessors of 19–31 315–16 Zeus and 308n17 Persian nature 96, 171, 233, 291–2 see also dialogue, Homer, metahistory, nomos of Persian imperialism/ manipulation, performativity, expansion 151, 162, 164 Thucydides individualism, individualistic 19, 144n142, Hesiod 20–1 267 Hipparchus (brother of Hippias) 263, 266 Ion of Chios 22–3, 66, 216, 284 Hippias (tyrant of Athens) 44, 49–50, 130–1, Ionia, Ionian(s) 18, 64, 67, 76, 80, 106, 127–9, 133–5, 193, 221, 225, 262–5 129n85, 137, 142n132, 174, 178, 178n18, 181n34, Histiaeus 51, 76, 94–5, 110n19, 127–9, 135–8, 182–5, 184n48, 191n66, 192–5, 193n74, 197, 181, 189, 191n66, 200, 202n108 199, 203, 234, 235–6, 246, 254, 266, 268, 276, historical arguments 284, 302, 309, 313–14 combined with mythical 290 Athenians and 129n85, 174n9, 193, Homer 210n138 alliance speeches and 175 Ionian tyrants 97, 178, 234 alternation of speech modes in 45, 47–8, Danube bridge debate between 104, 51 127–30, 266 378 general index

Ionia, Ionian(s) (cont.) Maeandrius 128, 179, 199, 260 Sardinia and 137, 142n132, 191n66, 260 manipulation servility and self-interest of 128–9, 260 Darius and 26 see also Ionian revolt Herodotus’ manipulation of speech Ionian revolt 128, 137, 181, 189, 190, 197n89, passim and 37–99 200, 232, 284n175 of arguments 3, 19, 26, 126, 144n142, 171, Greek disunity and 17, 64, 257–62 193, 204, 221, 234–6, 281, 304 Herodotus’ treatment of 4n14, 63n104, of audience 30, 82, 126, 179, 195, 198n96, 136, 136n110, 200, 261–2 234, 312 self-centred motives of the instigators of debate 113, 145, 156 of 199–200 of democracy 110 see also Aristagoras, Cleomenes, Dionysius of past 12, 236, 290, 304, 314–15 of Phocaea, Hecataeus, Hegesistratus, of reality/truth 26, 51, 199, 202 Histiaeus Marathon, battle of isegorie 108, 108n17 Athenian generals at 18 Isocrates 16, 209n134, 241, 283, 284n176, Athens and 279, 281–3, 288–9, see also 314n34 Philippides Isthmus 50, 69, 80, 84, 111, 140, 143, 157, in Aristophanes 244 186n53, 228–30, 276–7 Miltiades and Callimachus at 49, 86, 262–8 Juan Luis Vives Mardonius 19n92, 25, 38, 62, 70, 89–90, 97, called Herodotus ‘father of lies’ 1, 1n3 128–9, 160, 182, 187, 200, 227–8, 231, 236, justice 246, 269, 272, 277, 288, 293, 304, 309 arguments from, in alliance and exhortations 250–1, 256, 293–7, 299, speeches 173, 175–6, 184, 301 arguments from, in pre-battle and Persian alliances 233–3 speeches 242, 288 and Persian debates 113–15, 120, 151–6, 160–1, 163–6, kinship 19, 30, 64, 129, 153–4, 171, 174, 176–7, Aristagoras and 201–2 180–2, 184, 188, 191–2, 235–6, 256, 280 convincing Xerxes to attack Greece 88 friend(s), friendship, 130, 133, 174–83, offer of subjection to Athenians 84, 188–9, 218, 221, 223–4, 233–4 217–20, 223–4 goodwill (εὔνοια) 174, 177, 180, 182 see also deception, manipulation, myth, guest-friendship (xenia) 92, 130, 132, 176, opportunism, self-interest 180, 188, 234, 272 maxims 21, 239, 253 mythical kinship, kinship diplomacy 174, Megara, Megarians 56, 76, 125n74, 187, 228 180 Megistias 73 kleos (glory) 75, 112n25, 273, 273n142, Melian Dialogue 126, 175, 287 313n29 Menelaus 21, 66, 66n114, 273 metahistory, metahistorical 4, 9, 28, 97n231, Lade, battle of Lade 63n104, 137, 257–8, 310–15 261n95 Milesians, Miletus 59, 63, 63nn103 and 104, Leonidas 73–5, 89n194, 91–2, 92n210, 186, 137, 181, 181n33, 190–2, 234, 257, 258 186n53, 272 see also Aristagoras, Histiaeus, Ionian revolt Leotychides 71, 74n147, 89n194, 157n191, 165, Miltiades 25, 82, 86–7, 112, 127, 201, 178, 181n34, 182, 185, 186n51, 203 245–6n37, 246–7, 250–1, 255, 292, 314, see Lesbonax 240 also pre-battle speeches in Herodotus local patriotism 262, 264, 267 Mimnermus 22, 243 general index 379 mise en abyme 277, 277n154, 298 motivation 197n89, 204, 209, 220, Mnesiphilus 50n68, 80, 80n169, 112–13, 266 112n25, 140, 140n125, 144, 146 rhetoric 224 moral considerations/arguments 173, 175, see also fine, freedom, idealism, 195, 312–13 moral considerations/arguments, combined with expediency 227, 304 panhellenism, patriotism vs. personal interests 167 see also fine, freedom, idealism, nobility, Odysseus 21, 40–2, 54, 55n81, 125, 141n131 panhellenism, patriotism Onasander 240 Murychides 58–9, 62, 178, 235 opportunism, opportunistic, opportunity, Mycale, battle of 17, 71, 142n132, 185, opportunist 28n138, 138, 175, 187–8, 202, 185–6n51, 195, 202, 255, 300–1, 312 231–2 account of 68, 165n220 see also expediency, manipulation, Myrcinus 94, 137–8 self-interest, vested interests myth oracles 22, 44, 62 88, 130, 133 blend of, with history 21 ‘epicene oracle’ 63–4 kinship myths/mythical kinship 13, 18, Mardonius and 235 107, 174, 180, ‘wooden wall’ oracle 79, 107, 108n15 Mardonius and 13, 164n216 see also Delphi, Delphic oracle mythicization of Marathon 267–8 oratory Persians and 235–6 criticism of 28–9 scepticism towards 22–3 deliberative/symbouleutic 27, 173–4, Tegeans and 276–7 240–1, 244, 255–7, 302, 311, 315 use of, by Athenians 177, 210–11, 222, display/epideictic (funeral and 279–88 panegyric) 27, 237, 241, 244, 255–7, use of, by Herodotus 22, 24 282–7, 293, use of, by Spartans 205–9, see also 302, 304, 311, 314–15, see also Pericles Agamemnon, Dorians, Heraclids, drama and 22 Orestes forensic/judicial 27, 34, 160n201, 173, 241, see also Trojan War 244, 283, 288–9, 290–1, 304 Hesiod and 21 narrative Homer and 21 duration/pace 10, 37, 48–9, 54, 58–9, 64, Pindar and 21 82, 98, 110, 245, 252n66 sophists 24–6 analepsis/flashback 10, 60, 75, 260 see also Brasidas, Darius, epitaphios prolepsis/flashforward 10, 120, logos, Gorgias, Herodotus, Isocrates, 141n127, 203, 216, 227, 258, 260, 278, paraleipsis, ‘rhetoric of anti-rhetoric’, 310 Themistocles, Thucydides economy of 10, 58–9, 82, 98, 123n63, Orestes 206, 206nn119–21, 278 suspense 10, 48n61, 49, 49n65, 50n67, 51, 69, 82, 245, 269, 276 panhellenism, panhellenic 16, 16n81, 17n83, Naxian(s), Naxos 17, 50–1, 71, 135, 178, 181, 110–11, 200, 204, 208, 208nn127–8, 211, 183–4, 187–90, 187n58, 191n68 214, 220, 226, 231n218, 266–7, 279, 281–2, Nero 284n176, 285, 290, 298, 304, 314 in Tacitus’ Annals 42 in Homer 14n62 nobility 15, 93, 191, 280, 316 vs. particularism 19 noble arguments 194 see also fine, freedom, idealism, moral aim 291–2 considerations/arguments, nobility, aspirations 313 patriotism 380 general index paraleipsis 29, see also ‘rhetoric of combined with public interest/ anti-rhetoric’ motivation 265–6, 292 parrhesia 108n17, 139 Themistocles combining common good pathos 3, 47, 174–5, 177, 181–2, 185, 270 with 144 patriotism, patriotic, patriot 30, 83, 144n142, vs. common good/benefit 123 219, 251, 262–3, 267, 292, 312, 314 vs. panhellenic cause 298 Patroclus 40, 40n14, 51–2, 249, 273 see also expediency, opportunism, self- Pausanias 73n142, 74n147, 89n194, 196, 211 interest, vested interests and Spartan silence 67, 70–2, Phaeacians 125 exhortation of, at Plataea 268–75, 300 Philippides 68, 178, 256–7, 266–7 vs. Mardonius’ exhortation at Phocian(s) 178, 186, 255n81, 297–300, see Plataea 250, 250nn55–6, also Harmocydes 297 Plataea, battle of 28, 53, 82, 85, 96, 163, 195, Peisistratids 49–50, 88, 130, 133–4, 263–4 202, 211, 248, 255, 261, 277, 293, 296–8, 300, Peisistratus 189n63 304, 312, 315 Peloponnese, Peloponnesian(s) 56, 62, account of 68, 70–1, 97, 114, 117, 262, 277, 84, 109, 111, 131n94, 140, 143, 157, 157n193, 288, 290 160, 186, 186n53, 198, 206–7, 212, 221, Plataeans 177–8, 262–3, 268, 272, 282 236, 250n54, 276–7, 279–80, 282, see also Plataean debate in Thucydides 126, Peloponnesian War 174–5, 287–9 Peloponnesian War 17–18, 23n109, 25, 30, Plato 2, 24, 24n117, 25, 28n138, 66, 118, 240, 51, 55, 64, 126, 131n92, 134, 135n106, 137n112, 242, 283 145n142, 174, 187n58, 216, 219n175, 221–2, Plutarch 227, 271, 275, 280, 293 criticism of Herodotus by 1, 75n150, Pelops 13n56, 205, 207–8, 208n128 140n125 Penelope 41, 45n39, 47n50 exhortations and 238–9 performativity 6–8, 98 Polybius Histories and performance/ exhortations and 238–40, 244–5, 251 performativity 7 Polycrates 66, 179, 197 performativity, theory of/speech-act power theory 7 and authority of characters 77–97 speech and narrative (logos and ergon) and authority of Herodotus 44–5, passim and 6–8, 33, 38, 98, 303 305–16 (passim) Periander 132–3, 132n97, 179n19 speech and 40–5 Pericles speech and power/authority 77–97 Cypselus and 133 pragmatism, pragmatic 96, 158, 228–9, 263 deprecation of Homer by 284, 287 in Thucydides 174, 177 Funeral oration in Thucydides 27, 241, pragmatic arguments 268 244, 284, 287, 289, 292–3 pragmatic motivation 209, 228 Samian funeral oration of 27, 213, 216–17, combined with high-minded 244, 284 motivation 193 Thucydides and 308n13 pragmatic purposes 312 Thucydides’ management of speech vs. idealism 126, 304 of 42, 125 pre-battle speeches in Herodotus words and deeds 6n21, 65 Dionysius of Phocaea 257–62 Perseus 15n71, 132n97, 181 Harmocydes of Phocis 297–300 personal interest(s)/benefit 8, 60, 85, 128, Mardonius 293–7 173, 203, 236, 296 Miltiades 262–8 general index 381

Pausanias 268–75 and Syagrus 207 Tegeans and Athenians 275–91 motivation/motives/incentives 131, 221, Xerxes 291–3 266, 268 Priam 14, 275 self-interest, self-interested 17n83, 30, 61, 93, propaganda, propagandistic 12, 30, 107n11, 110, 128–9, 132, 144n142, 171, 173, 174n9, 175, 133, 149, 203, 206–7, 258n87, 260n92, 282, 177–8, 180, 182–3, 187–8, 190–2, 201–2, 204, 283n174, 289n206 208, 221–2, 227, 231–2, 267, 300, 304 Protesilaus 13 see also ambiguous, Aristagoras, Proteus, Herodotus and 311, 311n26 expediency, Greeks, Mardonius, proverbs, proverbial 213, 239, 253–4 opportunism, self-centredness, self- Pythermus 67 regarding motivation, Themistocles Pythia 61, 63, 107, 130, 212, see also Delphi, self-regarding motivation 33, 267 Delphic oracle selfish motivation 144, 205, 221n179, 235 Pythius 91–2, 93n214, 114n27, 273n144 selflessness 144, 267 selfless arguments 271, 313 revenge 61, 67, 89–90, 107, 129, 130n91, 154, Sicily 59, 61–2, 126, 174n9, 182, 189n62, 203, 202, 226, 231, 256, 297 213–17 (passim), 259n90, 260n92 see also rhetoric passim and see also Aristotle, Syracusans, Gelon epitaphios logos, Herodotus, oratory, ‘sideshadowing’ (‘might-have-beens’) 310 Rhetoric to Alexander Sigeum 130, 133 ‘rhetoric of anti-rhetoric’ 28, see also slander 24, 156, 158, 158n194, 185, 192n71, 194, paraleipsis 201–2, 202n108, 296, 300 Rhetoric to Alexander 3, 171, Socles 44, 49–50, 76, 112–13, 112n25, 113n26, alliance speeches and 172–8 (passim), 131–5, 132n96, 135n107, 142, 143n136, 223–4, 184–5, 201–2 310–11, 311n26 exhortations and 239 Sophocles 254 rivers, crossing of 93, 296–7, see also alliance speeches and 176 Hellespont, hybris alternation of speech modes in 46 Athenian compassion in 283, 283n173 Salamis, battle of/narrative of passim and debate in 122 see also Artemisia, Artemisium, Athens, representation of the ‘other’ 13, 13n61 debates in Herodotus, Eurybiades, Sparta, Spartans passim and see also Isthmus, oracles (‘wooden wall’ oracle), alliance speeches in Herodotus, Themistocles ambiguous, Aristagoras, Cleomenes, Samos 63 debates in Herodotus, Delphi, Demaratus, Pericles’ expedition against 216 Eurybiades, freedom, Gorgo, Leonidas, Pericles’ Samian funeral oration 27, 213, Leotychides, myth, Pausanias, Plataea, 216, 216n161, 244, 284 Themistocles, Thermopylae, tyranny Samian(s) 66–7, 71, 199, 202, 221n179, Spartan silence (vs. Athenian 260–2, 261n96, 284 eloquence) 64–77 Samian bag episode 66–7, 127n79, 221n179 speech passim and Scythia, Scythians 180 in Herodotus’ predecessors and and Athenians 180 contemporaries 19–31 and Ionians 127, 129, 260, 260n92 omission of/silence 39–45 and Spartans 77, 178n18 speech modes 4–5 see also Darius alternation of 45–52 self-centredness, self-centred 24, 211, 226 Sperthias and Bulis 92, 157n189, 234, 273 and Aristagoras 128, 189, 192, 199–200 Stesimbrotus 22–3 382 general index

Sthenelaidas 64 Theon 240 Syagrus 114n27, 205–10, 216n162, 285n182 Thermopylae, battle of 56, 57n90, 92, 117, Syracusans, Syracuse 137n112, 205, 210, 141n129, 156–8, 184n43, 186, 228n206, 282, 213, 215, 217, 249, 250n54, 314–15 see also 298, 300, 312 Gelon narrative of 57n91, 68–9, 74–5, 74n148, 90, 97, 301 Tegea, Tegean(s) 206, 271, 294, 296 see also Demaratus, Leonidas autochthony Thersander 114–15 debate between Athenians and 17, 28–9, Thersites 41–2, 53, 112n24, 122, 141n131 53, 70, 82, 97, 111, 117, 211–12, 248, 250–1, Thessalians, Thessaly 163n212, 182, 187, 255, 262, 268, 270, 304, 314–15 187n55, 220n177, 227, 294, 297–9 see also pre-battle speeches in Thrasybulus 132–3, 179, 179n19 Herodotus Thucydides 2, 3, 11–12, 33, 51, 62, 64–5, see also Chileus 143n136, 144, 149n160, 260n92, 265–6, 272, Telemachus 41, 45n39, 47n50, 125 274–5, 283, 287, 300, 303 Theban(s) 76, 107, 108n13, 111n20, 178, alliance speeches and 174–7 206n122, 210n139, 227–8, 280, 289n206, criticism of rhetoric in 28–30 294n220 debate in 118–19, 125–7 in Thucydides’ Plataean debate 70n128, Herodotus and 29–31, 103 287–9 on speeches 5 medizing of/medizers 111, 163–4, on words and deeds 6 164nn213–15, 227–8, 272, 275n, 289, Persian Wars and 16 294n220, 295–6 pre-battle speeches and 237–41, 244–7, Theban banquet 115 249–51, 253, 255 Theban debate in Herodotus 107, 108n13, selectivity in reporting speeches 54–5 110, 112–13 see also Pericles, Peloponnesian War Thebes 107, 111n20, 163, 206n122, 280, Thurii 13, 13n59, 18, 18n88 296–7 Thyrea 61, 157n189, 184n43 Athenian expedition against Tisias 25, 25n119 (epideictic topos) 279–80, 282–3, Trojan War 13, 206, 208, 210–11, 215, 279, 281, see also myth 284–7, 290, 315 Themistocles passim and see also Achilles, Agamemnon, myth Athens and 108, 137, 299 Trojans and Achaeans 14, 124, 250 backstage policy/intrigues 112, 120, 312 assemblies of 124–5 exhortation of at Salamis 81–3, 248, tyranny passim and 252–3, 300, 309, 312 and writing 44, 76–7, 308 in the debate at Andros 143–4 Athens and 77, 129–30, 133, 193, 215, message to the Ionians 182, 184–5 224–5, 227, 263–5 Persians and 143–5 Pausanias and 67n118, 274–5 rhetorical skills 25, 79–87 (passim) Spartans and 131–4, 196–7, 215, 221–2 vs. other Greek generals 79–87 Tyrtaeus 207n123, 243 see also Adeimantus, Aristeides, Artemisia, debates in Herodotus (Salamis debates, vested interests 18, 195, 262 Artemisium debates), deception, combined with common interests Eurybiades, expediency, manipulation, 257 oracles (‘wooden wall’), personal interest, self-centredness, selfish wise adviser/counsellor 6n24, 65n109, 136, motivation, slander, vested interests 163n212, 230n213, 272n137, 310 general index 383

Xanthus of Lydia 13n60, 22, 24 emotions of 92–3 Xenophon 11–12, 66, 72–3, 118n43, 126n78, laughter and 92–3, 157 209n134 speech of (in terms of power and alliance speeches and 177 authority) 87–97 exhortations in 240, 244–5, 301n240 truth and 156–8 Xerxes passim and Zeus and 123–4 and Sperthias and Bulis 92, 157n189, see also Abydos, Aeschylus, Artabanus, 234, 273 Atossa, Darius, debates in Herodotus Agamemnon and 96, 124, 124nn66–7, (debate on the Greek expedition), 154n82 epitaphios logos, pre-battle speeches in Artemisia and see debates in Herodotus Herodotus Demaratus and see debates in Herodotus Zeus 53, 80n169, 123–5, 154n82, 196, 224 dreams of 88, 151–7 (passim) see also Herodotus, Xerxes