The Role of the Historian As an Author/Narrator: the Case of Herodotus’S the Histories 7

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Spiel Siegener Periodicum zur Internationalen Empirischen Literaturwissenschaft

spiel Siegener Periodicum zur Internationalen Empirischen Literaturwissenschaft

Jg.. 30 (2011), Heft 1

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Jg. 30 (2011), Heft 1

Auf dem Weg zu einer Narratologie der „Geschichtsschreibung“ Towards a Historiographic Narratology

Herausgegeben von / edited by Julia Nitz (Halle) & Sandra Harbert Petrulionis (Altoona)

Siegener Periodicum zur Internationalen Empirischen Literaturwissenschaft

Herausgeber dieses Heftes / Editors of this issue: Julia Nitz & Sandra Harbert Petrulionis

Inhalt / Contents SPIEL 30 (2011), H. 1

Julia Nitz, Sandra Harbert Petrulionis (Halle/Altoona) Towards a Historiographic Narratology: Résumé 1

Penelope Frangakis (Athens) The Role of the Historian as an Author/Narrator: The Case of Herodotus’s The Histories 7

Stephan Jaeger (Winnipeg) Poietic Worlds and Experientiality in Historiographic Narrative 29

Hanna Meretoja (Turku) An Inquiry into Historical Experience and Its Narration: The Case of Günter Grass 51

Alun Munslow (Dodsleigh) The Historian as Author 73

Julia Nitz (Halle) In Fact No Fiction: Historiographic Paratext 89

Yair Seltenreich (Upper Galilee) Personal Diaries as Historical Narratives: Yossef Nachmani and the Galilee, 1935-1941 113

Beverley Southgate (London) “All their Feet on the Ground”?: Tidy (Hi)stories in Question 131

RUBRIC

Norbert Groeben (Heidelberg) Empirisierung (in) der Literaturwissenschaft: wissenschaftsinterne und -externe Dynamiken 151

Thomas Wilke (Halle) Mashup-Kultur und Musikvideos. Aktuelle Entwicklungen audiovisueller Auflösung und Verdichtung in Mashup-Videos 159

SPIEL 30 (2011) H. 1, 7–28 10.3726/80121_7

Penelope Frangakis (Athens, GR)

The Role of the Historian as an Author/Narrator: The Case of Herodotus’s The Histories

Dieser Artikel widmet sich dem Historiker in der Rolle des Autors bzw. Erzählers von Geschichte. Die Funktion des Historikers beschränkt sich nicht allein auf das Festhalten historischer Fakten zur Information des Lesers. Im Gegenteil, häufig fungiert der Geschichtsschreiber als narrativer Vermittler der Vergangenheit, der darauf abzielt, eine lebendige Darstellung zu kreieren, die den Leser dazu anregt, didaktische, ethische und philosophische Perspektiven einzunehmen bzw. zu evaluieren. Dieser Beitrag betrachtet die narrative Struktur und Organisation von Herodots monumentalem Geschichtswerk The Histories. Eine Untersuchung des narrativen Habitus Herodots als Autor und Erzähler erlaubt Einblick in für Geschichtsschreibung spezifische Erzählkategorien. Herodot führt uns zu den Wurzeln der Historiografie der westlichen Welt mit ihren Traditionen und Besonderheiten.

Herodotus, born in Halicarnassus in the fifth century BCE, was one of the most important historians of his time. His work, The Histories, can be regarded as one of the early examples in the tradition of narrative history, which serves well the purpose of illustrating the complexity of the role of the historian in undertaking the exigent tasks of observing, researching, collecting, recording, evaluating, and presenting historical data. As do modern historians, Herodotus had to engage in a selection process of what to include or exclude from the set of data and ideas gathered, and he had to make decisions about how to adapt, structure and display such historical information in narrative form. When analysing the role of Herodotus as an author/narrator, we see that he fulfills a scientific and artistic role, which, among others, has to deal with issues of narrated and narrative time, cohesion, sources, and credibility. Unlike many ancient authors such as Diodorus Siculus, who without variation reproduced historical sources (Pitcher 2009, 89, 216), the historiographic narrative produced by Herodotus was a literary work of art, and, by extension was a work that its author intended to be a pleasure to read. Herodotus was one of the earliest authors who set himself the goal of pleasing his readers, and consequently accomplished creating a much more sophisticated style than that of his Ionian predecessors (Brock 2003, 12–13). Using as guidelines some of Homer’s narrative techniques, such as headlines, conclusions, ring-composition, repetition of prolepses and analepses, and narrative integration of descriptions (cf. De Jong 2002, 263), Herodotus established a close connection between history and poetry, attempting to turn historical prose writing into a fine art. Herodotus’s emphasis on the connection between poetry and ancient historiographical texts is also shared by Quintilian, who considers “ancient historiography ‘as close to poetry’ and ‘in a sense a kind of prose poem, which is told to narrate, not to win a case’” (in De Jong 2004, 9). Herodotus is an excellent example of a historian who tries to achieve a fine balance between presenting facts in the most credible

8 Penelope Frangakis way possible while making the information presented effectively educative and entertaining. He is the type of author/narrator who attempts to make his narrative stimulating and exciting to the audience, something that is more commonly a goal of historical fiction writers rather than historians. He is a prototype of an author/narrator who shaped his historiographic narrative based on an intertwining of scientific and literary methods. In the preamble of The Histories, Herodotus announces that the purpose of his work is to preserve events and achievements of the past as produced by both Greeks and non- Greeks, and to show, among other matters, the various causes of the hostilities between these groups. The wars between the Greeks and the Persians (499–479 BCE), in particular, become a pivotal subject for Herodotus, and he brings in numerous sub-stories of a historical, geographical, and ethnographic nature to his main narrative thread. The Histories is composed of nine books, divisions that were created not by Herodotus but by later Hellenistic editors. Herodotus’s long work presents the known ancient world, including Greece and its people and culture, the Persians and the places they encountered during the course of their imperial expansion, the succession of Persian kings and their conquests, and the wars between the Greeks and the Persians. More particularly, Book 1 deals primarily with the stories of Croesus and Cyrus (557–530 BCE), including background on Croesus’s lineage, Lydian and Persian ethnography, and the growth of Median power. Book 2 concentrates on Cambyses’s accession and on Egypt, while Book 3 discusses Cambyses’s reign (530–522 BCE); Darius’s reign (521– 486 BCE), empire and campaigns; and provides an overview of the Arabs and Indians, Samos, and the Lacedaemonians’ war on Samos. Book 4 mainly deals with Scythia and Darius’s expedition there, Scythian ethnography, Libyan ethnography, and history. Books 5 and 6 present Darius’s European campaign as well as the Ionian revolt and its aftermath; while Books 7, 8, and 9 focus on Xerxes and his invasion of Greece (486–479 BCE), the three-year war between the Greeks and Persians, and the victory achieved by the Greeks in Greece and in Ionia (481–479 BCE). Herodotus’s structural decisions impact the interpretation of his narration. His structure of The Histories allows the audience to make connections between the stories narrated and to think about the emerging analogies he draws between them. Further, it enables them to comprehend the sequence of events and to understand similarities and differences between the peoples of the then known world.

Narrative and Time

When composing his historiographic narrative, one of the major tasks Herodotus had to deal with was temporal organisation. The relationship between narrative time and narrated events is a relevant issue not only in Herodotus’s but in all historians’ narratives. Time is essential to history, both in relation to what historians purport to represent about the past and in how they go about representing it (cf. Berkhofer 1997, 106). Herodotus subordinated “historical time,” otherwise known as “fabula” (the story, the order in which events actually happened), to the “narrative time,” otherwise known as the “plot” of a text (the order in which events appear sequentially in the narrative).

The Role of the Historian 9

Herodotus opted for a complex temporal arrangement: presenting his narrative only roughly chronologically, inserting causal links and detours throughout. He played with temporal relations, feeding one chronological sequence into another, engaging his audience as players in a temporal puzzle. Although Herodotus risked confusing the audience with this method, his choice ultimately proves effective: it intrigues the audience into creating causal links and helps readers gain a greater overall perspective on events and developments in the ancient world. For the temporal ordering of his discourse, Herodotus used a variety of strategies well known from fictional prose but that were rather innovative for fact-based history writing. One of these methods is the insertion of what Gérard Genette (1986) termed “analepses” and “prolepses” as well as pauses into the present or enunciative time of the narration. He employs them to establish the importance of the subject matter at hand, to discuss the historical significance of an event or a person in relation to past or future developments, and to highlight cause-effect relations.

Analepses and Prolepses

With analepses, or flashbacks, Herodotus makes the audience backtrack in time. The flashback stories that interrupt the flow of his narrative are clearly marked off, e.g., “I shall now return to a point in my account where something was omitted before” (H, 7:239, 488)1. These flashback stories enrich and broaden the context by providing relevant background information, as is the case in the following scene, where Herodotus describes the custom of putting up for auction young women who were old enough to be married, a custom that Assyrians practiced annually: “I now turn to their customs, the most sensible of which, in my opinion, is also practised, I hear, by the Illyrian tribe, the Eneti. Once a year, in every village, this is what they used to do. [...]” (H, 1:196, 86). In many instances, Herodotus uses retrospection in order to provide information about new characters entering the narrative. The following passages well illustrate this technique: “There is a story about two of the three hundred, Eurytus and Aristodamus [...]” (H, 7:229, 484); “There were ten military commanders in charge of the Athenian forces, one of whom was Miltiades, whose father Cimon the son of Stesagoras had been forced into exile from Athens by Pisistratus the son of Hippocrates. It was during his exile [...]” (H, 6:103, 388). Sometimes flashbacks occur as part of exemplary stories or as explanations attributed to certain parties or persons, e.g., “The Carthaginians themselves have a plausible explanation for this. They say that throughout the battle [...], Hamilcar stayed in the camp [...]” (H, 7:167, 463). Analeptic accounts of the history of characters are conveyed either by the author/narrator himself or by mise en abymes, that is, stories of informants inserted into the overall (hi)story. In one instance, for example, Herodotus (2:102, 133) starts narrating the story of Sesostris: “Passing over them, then, I will mention the person who reigned over them, whose name was Sesostris.” Later, he repeatedly resumes his account of Sesostris, including retrospective accounts of priests he interviewed: “The priests told me

1 H is the abbreviation used for Herodotus, 2008. 7 is the book number, 239 is the paragraph number, and 488 is the page number. For other examples, see also H, 7:164, 462.

10 Penelope Frangakis that he [Sesostris] first launched a naval expedition of the Arabian Gulf [...]” (H, 2:102, 133); “So he turned back towards Egypt. When he reached the River Phasis, [...]” (H, 2:103, 133); “Now to return to Sesostris, the Egyptian king: the priests told me that he brought with him on his return from abroad [...]” (H, 2:107, 135). These flashbacks provide details about the achievements of Sesostris, one of the Egyptian kings, including his naval expedition. At the same time, such retrospections allow interrelated stories to be explained, such as the Colchians’ association with the Egyptians. Additionally, we can also see that Herodotus uses flashbacks to provide credibility and to present other figures’ accounts of events. Herodotus makes also frequent use of prolepsis, that is, the narration of a story-event occurring prior to earlier events already mentioned. He thereby interrupts the chronology of the represented story-world and indicates that some events in the historical present will affect those of the future. This use of prolepsis often creates suspense, as in the following passage: “However, Leotychidas paid for what he did to Demaratus [...]. But this was all in the future. At the time in question, [...]” (H, 6:73, 377). Apparently, Herodotus meant to tease his readers’ desire to learn how the reported end came about. In other instances, he foreshadows the involvement of characters who appear later in the narrative, creating contextual links, as in “[t]he design and ornamentation of the walls and sanctuaries of Babylon were the work of a number of Babylonian kings (who will feature in my Assyrian narrative), [...]” (H, 1:184, 80). Herodotus (3:155, 232) also uses prolepsis in the speeches delivered by his characters: “‘If I’d told you what I was intending to do,’ Zopyrus said, ‘you’d have stopped me. [...]. Ten days after I have entered the city, post a thousand expendable men opposite the Gate of Semiramis.” In this passage, Zopyrus’s report to Darius of the details for capturing Babylon briefly foreshadows what will happen to the city, the fall of which is related in more detail later in the narrative. Thus, the author captures the reader’s attention and creates suspense by previewing how the fall of Babylon will occur. Herodotus also uses indirect prolepses, that is, analepses that fulfill proleptic functions, usually in the form of dreams or oracles that prepare readers for the development of the plot. Prolepses of this type occur quite often in The Histories and create anticipation and suspense (cf. H, 1:66, 29; 6:19, 358; 6:76, 378). For instance, in the following passage, readers are prepared for what is to become of Leonidas, who fought valiantly at the battle of Thermopylae: “For in the very early days of the war the Spartiates had consulted the oracle at Delphi about the coming conflict, and the Pythia had predicted that either Lacedaemon would be laid waste by the Persians or their king would die” (H, 7:220, 481). Herodotus both backtracks his narrative to “the very early days” of the battle and alludes to the future, in this case the prediction that either Sparta or Leonidas, its king, would be destroyed. Through an indirect prolepsis such as this, he also explains the actions and/or motives of Leonidas later on in the narrative. And so, for example, right after referring to the prediction of the oracle at Delphi as to Leonidas’s future, Herodotus (7:220, 482) gives an interpretation based on this prediction regarding the reasons that Leonidas sent away most of his troops, except for the Thebans and Thespians: “So I think it was a reflection on this prophecy, combined with his desire to lay up a store of fame for the Spartiates alone, that prompted Leonidas to let the allied personnel go.”

The Role of the Historian 11

Herodotus, furthermore, uses prolepses as one of the implicit ways of making his own view clear. Consider, for example, the following passage: “Ariston died and Demaratus became king. But apparently it was fated that these things would become general knowledge and would lead to Demaratus losing his kingdom, [...]” (H, 6:64, 374). Herodotus wants to imply here the fact that Demaratus’s legitimacy as king of Sparta had been questionable since his birth, a fact that would later be used as a pretext for over- throwing him. Hence the audience then realizes why, prior to the prolepsis of Demaratus’s fate, the author narrates the story about this character’s birth. Readers also get a preview of how Demaratus’s fate will unfold. As exemplified in this passage, Hero- dotus the author/narrator interrupts his narrative with prolepses in order to explain the status of a character and to highlight unexpected, random events.

Ellipsis, Summary, and Scene

Herodotus also uses some of the basic forms of narrative movement that belong to the temporal category of speed, which relates story duration to textual space. These forms include ellipsis, summary, and scene, as termed by Genette (1986). Ellipsis, by means of which the narrative says absolutely nothing about some part of the event-story, apart from being used strategically to avoid giving information for certain periods of time, also moves the Herodotean narrative forward. An example of ellipsis can be found in the following passage: “After forty days, the Lacedaemonian blockade of Samos was still getting nowhere, so they returned to the Peloponnese” (H, 3:56, 193)2. Summary is the narration of several days, months, or years of existence in only a few paragraphs, pages, or even phrases, without providing details about action or speech (Genette 1986, 95–96); it is an additional method by which the historian can manipulate temporal order. By summarizing, Herodotus (4:151, 285) creates a discrepancy between the duration of referred-to time and that of its representation in textual or discursive time, as exemplified in the following passage: “For the next seven years, however, no rain fell on Thera, and all their trees, with a single exception withered.”3 Such compressed time periods contrast with detailed scenic depictions and are useful in allowing Herodotus not only to cover lengthy spans of time (as necessitated in historical narratives that often cover entire eras) but also to emphasize key details and figures that significantly impact the course of events. In the course of the narrative, Herodotus as a narrator varies his pace and often recounts events as scenes in which narrative time corresponds to the story’s time, usually in the form of dialogues: “[U]ntil Artabanus the son of Hystapes broke the silence, relying on the fact that he was Xerxes’ uncle. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘unless [...]. Xerxes was furious at Artabanus’ words. He responded as follows: ‘It is only because you are my father’s brother [...]” (H, 7:10, 409–7:11, 411). Herodotus usually chooses to expose the audience to such scenes at the same pace as the historical figures themselves experienced them. He thereby creates clear, vivid, and seemingly “authentic” narrative sections.

2 For further examples of ellipses, cf. H, 3:42, 187; 3:53, 192; 3:65, 197; 5:41, 318; 5:119, 350; 7:4, 405. 3 For further examples of summaries, cf. H, 1:18, 9; 5:92, 340; 8:100, 521; 9:121, 589.

12 Penelope Frangakis

Summaries typically allow the historian to emphasize the importance of one event on the course of other events, to focus attention on occurrences about which Herodotus either has little information or wishes to provide additional brief background. In certain instances, Herodotus presents one aspect of a specific historical moment as a discrete scene and also summarizes another aspect of this same event. As a result, he shifts the balance in favour of a particular version of an event and thereby creates sym- pathy for this interpretation. For example, in the following passage, Herodotus (8:79, 514–8:80, 514) narrates partly through the devices of summary and scene the meeting between Aristides and Themistocles just before the battle of Salamis: While the commanders were locked in argument a man called Aristides the son of Lysimachus crossed over to Salamis from Aegina. Aristides 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 honourable man in Athens. He presented himself at the meeting and asked Themistocles to come outside with him. [...]. When Themistocles joined him outside, Aristides said, “The rivalry between us should only be about which of us will do our country more good – that goes not just for now, but for any other occasion too.” [...]. “That’s a very good idea,” Themistocles replied. “And you’ve brought good news” [...]. In this passage Herodotus uses summary in order to introduce an event that occurs parallel to the main narrative strand (the argument between the commanders), namely the crossing of Aristides from Aegina to Salamis. He then pauses in order to provide his verdict on Aristides, whom he considers “the best and most honorable man in Athens.” Aristides had previously been exiled through ostracism by Themistocles for being a supporter of a conservative policy as well as a chief opponent of the latter’s proposed naval policy. In accord with the decree recalling exiles to help in the defense of Athens against Persian invaders, Aristides returned to Athens and gave loyal support to Themi- stocles in the Battle of Salamis. Although Herodotus claims that his judgment is based on “all I hear,” he supports this assertion by providing the scene of dialogue between Themistocles and Aristides. By presenting directly the speech of these two men, Herodotus allows the reader to access directly their behavior. Readers can now judge for themselves what kind of person Aristides is. His statement that his rivalry with Themistocles should focus only on who does his country more good is meant to mark Aristides as a noble, wise, and good-hearted man. This impression is heightened by Themistocles’s positive reaction. From this example we see how Herodotus effectively employs scenes to shift the balance in favor of particular portrayals of characters or events in the direction most favorable to his interpretation. Although he states his own opinion of these matters, he also (seemingly) leaves room for readers to form their own judgment based on the scenes he inserts.

The Role of the Historian 13

Narrative and Cohesion

As mentioned before, Herodotus didn’t set out only to inform his readers but to create a cohesive, forward flowing narrative that would be enjoyable to read and easily accessible. Thus, his decision-making process wasn’t restricted to his choices of sources and archival/oral material but extended to the narrative management of these sources and their organisation into a coherent and entertaining story. In comparison to his predecessors in prose-writing, proto-historians/logographers such as Hecateus of Miletus, Herodotus is a special case, since through various narrative techniques he created a much more complex and rich work – a multi-threaded text (cf. Griffiths 2006, 135; Hornblower 1994, 15). Herodotus’s idea of how to organize written prose has its roots mainly in the Homeric epics, and in Attic tragedy (as Athenian tragic poets provided his narrative with a model of episodic structure) (cf. Lateiner 2004, xxix). Unlike later rhetorically trained writers, including Thucydides, who openly kept control at all times of the overall argumentative direction (cf. Dewald 2008, xviii), Herodotus often tries to convey different versions and possible interpretations of events, and, thus, to some extent, does not present a stringent authoritative historical account or argument. Herodotus frequently tries to convey the thought process he went through regarding his selection of contents, as in the following passage: “Enough has been said about all this. Others have explained how and through what achievements they became kings over the Dorians, despite being Egyptians, and so I will not go into that. I will record things which others have not picked up” (H, 6:55, 370). At certain points in the narrative he states his reasons for including certain material: “My reason for mentioning this incident is as follows. [...]” (H, 8:55, 505), cf. (H, 8:85, 516). Additionally, he refuses to include information when it is not required for certain accounts of his investigations: “I know their names but I will not write them down” (H, 2:123, 144); “[...] but I am not going to give the names of these officers, because they are not required by this account of my investigations [...]” (H, 7:96, 437). Generally, there is no discernible pattern as to when and why Herodotus chooses to include meta-commentary on his creation process or on his sources, and when he doesn’t. He usually provides rather few source citations when he deals with events closer to his own time. Obvious areas for occasional obliqueness and selectivity in the handling of source material are religion and politics. According to Hornblower (2002, 382–83), this omission is because critical discussion and judgment of sources on these subjects was completely out of place in the mid-fifth century when Athenian heroism against the Persians had become a national myth.

Narrative Space

Herodotus demonstrates unusual literary finesse in his arrangement of details and progressive narrative flow, at times creating almost a cinematographic effect. Throughout the narrative there are fluctuations in the level of detail. On the one hand, parts of the narrative are not overly elaborated; instead, through ellipses or summaries, he refers only briefly to a substantial lapse of time. Consequently, the speed of narration is increased, an acceleration that speeds up the rhythm of the narrative and enhances the forward flow.

14 Penelope Frangakis

On the other hand, the enormously detailed parts of the narrative decelerate the pace and place the focus on aspects that Herodotus finds remarkable and/or essential to the course of the story. His description of customs in Thrace is an excellent example to demonstrate these alterations in “speed” and level of detail (cf. H, 5:6, 305). When choosing to make the narrative as exhaustive as possible, Herodotus (4:103, 269–4:118, 273; cf. 4:85, 263–64; 4:188, 298) zooms in to provide not only the most intricate details, concerning “customs and practices of these tribes [...],” but also, for example, to relate characteristics of historical personalities, e.g., “[t]his is how Xerxes left Sardis, but he used to get out of his chariot and into a covered wagon instead, if he felt so inclined [...]” (7:41, 422; cf. 8:90, 518); genealogical particulars of historical figures, e.g., “[t]he marriage of Megacles and Agariste produced Cleisthenes who fixed the tribes and established democracy at Athens. He was named after his mother’s father, the tyrant of Sicyon [...]” (6:131, 399); land- scapes, e.g., “[n]ow, Athos is a large, famous, inhabited mountain jutting out into the sea; where it joins the mainland, it is shaped like a peninsula [...]” (7:22, 416); flora, e.g., “[t]he way they get cinnamon is even more extraordinary. They [...]” (3:111, 215; cf. 1:193, 85; 2:92, 129; 3:107, 213–14; 4:23, 242); fauna, e.g., “[...] and they have small, short-faced, long-haired horses; the hair, which grows all over these horses’ bodies is up to five fingers long [...]” (5:9, 306; cf. 2:68, 122; 2:71, 123); and measurements, e.g., “[t]he method used to reach these measurements was as follows [...]” (4:86, 264); “I will now describe the size of the coastline of Scythia from the Ister eastwards” (4:99, 268). By zooming into details, such as the above, Herodotus decelerates the pace of the narrative and focuses on remarkable and significant aspects that he presents with an almost cinematographic effect. Unlike many of his successors in the art of history writing, Herodotus takes the audience not only into the council chambers (H, xvii–xviii), e.g., “[a]ll the people who voted at this meeting were highly valued by the Persian king. Present at the meeting were the [...]” (4:138, 281; cf. 8:49, 503); to the battlefields whether at sea or at land and lets them partake in the preparations leading up to fights, e.g., “[s]o when it was his turn, the Athenians took up battle positions. The War Archon was in command of the right wing [...]” (6:111, 392); “The total number of triremes was 1,207, supplied by various nations as follows [...]” (7:89, 435); “[t]he Greeks who stood against the Persian king at Thermopylae were as follows. As regards heavy infantry, there were 300 Spartiates, 500 from Tegea and another 500 from Mantinea, [...]” (7:202, 475); but he also takes them into the streets and fields, e.g., “[i]n fact, here is a description of the route. There are royal staging-posts and excellent inns all along it, and every region the road passes through is inhabited and safe [...]” (5:52, 322). Most of these intriguing details complement his narrative and encapsulate the audience’s attention. Take, for example, his description of the way the peoples of Xerxes’s army were dressed: “Here are the peoples which made up Xerxes’ army. First, there were the Persians, dressed as follows. [...]” (H, 7:61, 429–7:79, 433). By providing a wealth of detail within certain sections of his narrative, Herodotus increases the vividness of the text, thereby enhancing its overall credibility. As outlined in the preceding paragraphs, Herodotus, like all writers of history, found himself making decisions about how to apportion narrative space. He had to determine

The Role of the Historian 15 the scale of event coverage as well as the amount of textual space to spend on each narrative section. He then proceeded to create thoughtful variations in proportion by varying the lengths of passages on different topics or time periods. At some points in the narrative, he conveys clearly his reasons for these decisions, as in the following passage: I will cover minor and major human settlements equally, because most of those which were important in the past have diminished in significance by now, and those which were great in my own time were small in times past. I will mention both equally because I know that human happiness never remains long in the same place. (H, 1:5, 5) Herodotus (2:35, 108) tends to apportion more textual space to what he considers remarkable – “I am going to talk at some length about Egypt, because it has very many remarkable features and has produced more monuments which beggar description than anywhere else in the world. That is why more will be said about it” – or what he deems most important and most relevant; e.g., in the following passage, he conveys that more will be said about Cyrus than other figures because of his importance: “The next task of this account of ours is to learn more about Cyrus, the man who destroyed Croesus’s empire, and about how the Persians came to be the leading race in Asia” (H, 1:95, 45). Herodotus narrates at length what he expects is largely unknown to the audience, especially local information. Moreover, he spends considerable time relating events for which he has gathered much information from an abundance of sources. Not surprisingly, he also devotes more attention to instances when he wants to push an argument, whereas otherwise he only briefly mentions an incident: “I suppose that, having criticized the theories that have been proposed, I should state my own theory about this obscure issue. [...]. So this is why I think [...]. That sums up my view as briefly as possible [...]. If I am to express my view in more detail, it is as follows [...]” (H, 2:24, 103–2:25, 104). Obviously, Herodotus believes that it is the right of the author of history to present his interpretation of the “facts” rather than attempt to objectively relate the “facts” themselves, as many contemporary historians believe they are trying (or should try) to do.4 Herodotus usually employs ellipsis or summary when he does not want to focus attention on a topic or time-period for which he has little information or when this scene or event might contradict his interpretation: That was the response the Delphic oracle gave Croesus. I am not in a position to give details of the response given by the oracle of Amphiaraus to the Lydians when they had performed the traditional rites at the temple, because there is no record of it either; all I can say is that in Croesus’s opinion this oracle too gave him an accurate response. (H, 1:49, 21) Herodotus also gives minimal attention to issues almost certainly known by the audience. Moreover, he is brief when he does not want to repeat a story recounted earlier or when he desires to arouse the audience’s curiosity. In the following passage, for example, he avoids giving extensive information on Priam’s rule: “When Xerxes reached the Scamander he wanted to see where Priam had ruled, so he climbed up to the citadel,

4 For a discussion of the methods and objectives of contemporary historians see the contribution of Alun Munslow to this volume.

16 Penelope Frangakis looked around, and heard the whole story of what had happened there. Then [...]” (H, 7:43, 423). In this particular passage, information on Troy and its ruler are not expanded on for reasons that include Herodotus’s (2:120, 140–41) previous recounting of that particular story as well as his intention to create suspense, since this visit by Xerxes may be considered by the audience a symbolic prolepsis of what is to become of the Persians, given that readers have already been made aware what happened to those under Priam’s rule, that is, the heavy Trojan losses resulting from the Trojans’ encounters with the Greeks. Another challenge of cohesion for Herodotus is the manner in which he handles the presentation of simultaneous events. He must frequently deal with reporting chains of events that occur in different localities at the same time. Herodotus (4:147, 284; cf. 5:113, 348; 6:23, 359–60; 6:94, 385; 6:97, 386; 7:33, 419; 8:71, 511; 8:106, 523; 8:117, 528) tackles this problem by simply inserting time markers such as: “now, when,” “meanwhile,” “in the meantime,” “[n]ow, it so happened that at the same time as all this was going on preparations were being made for a colonizing expedition from Lace- daemon, under the leadership of Theras the son of Autesion (whose own father was Tisamenus the son of Thersander and grandson of Polynices).” Remarkably, by this simple means, Herodotus guides the audience through time and space, zooming in on events in different geographic locations, thereby creating a historical space much larger than its individual parts.

Ring Composition

Herodotus successfully manages to make a long work comprised of many variegated elements appear coherent. The individual fragments are combined in such a way as to create coherent patterns, and one story recalls another. One of the most important structural devices he employs to create cohesion is that of ring-composition, an organisational feature that some claim originated in Homer’s Iliad (Griffiths 2006, 141). It is one of Herodotus’s most characteristic narrative techniques and is employed to connect or resume topics after an interruption (Lateiner 2004, xxi). Ring-composition defines Herodotus’s method of framing each narrative unit by opening and closing with a similar or identical phrase. This technique assists the reader in identifying the beginning of a new topic’s presentation and, thereafter, a topic’s conclusion. Following are two typical examples: “Here is a description of the path. [...]. So this is what the path is like” (H, 7:216, 480–7:217, 480); “The kings have the following privileges, assigned to them by the Spartiates [...]. These are the rights the kings are granted by the Spartan government during their lifetimes” (H, 6:56, 370–6:58, 371; cf. H, 5:1, 304–5:2, 304; 5:29, 313–5:30, 313). As evidenced in the examples below, to create unity, Herodotus uses narrative devices such as 1) cross-reference, 2) conclusion, 3) headline, and 4) repetition of prolepses and analepses. Via cross-references, he either highlights that he has already recounted something earlier in his work: “As I explained earlier, Scythia produces no donkeys or mules; in the whole country there is not a single donkey or mule, because it is too cold” (H, 4:129, 278), or notes that he will report something later on: “I will explain the reason for this expedition later, but first there are other matters to go through” (H,

The Role of the Historian 17

4:145, 283). To finish a story or narrative section, he usually provides a concluding statement to mark it off, such as “[s]o that is how Babylon fell for the second time” (H, 3:159, 233). Furthermore, headlines announce what a story or section will be about: “Here is a list of the contingents, starting with those from the Peloponnese” (H, 8:43, 502); “I now resume my earlier narrative” (H, 1:140, 64). Finally, prolepsis and analepsis are used repeatedly to resume narrative strands or remind the audience of certain events mentioned earlier. An example of the repetition of prolepsis occurs at a point in the narrative when one of the characters, Croesus, relates, an event that had been forecast for his future: “[...] he told them how Solon had arrived at his court in the first place, all the way from Athens, how he had seen all his wealth and dismissed it as rubbish (or words to that effect), and how in his case everything had turned out as Solon had said it would, [...]” (H, 1:86, 40). Through the repetition of in this case an indirect prolepsis, the audience can reconnect with and more easily understand the relevance of what has been narrated earlier, in particular the role of Solon in Croesus’s life. Repeated analepses serve primarily to refresh the reader’s memory of something previously reported, e.g., “[w]hen his uncle Artabanus (the one who had at first freely expressed his opinion and advised Xerxes not to attack Greece) noticed that Xerxes was crying [...]” (H, 7:46, 424). Through the cohesive narrative techniques described above, Herodotus connects his various digressions, which have been undertaken to narrate other relevant episodes, to the main storyline. As a result, as Dewald (2008, xvi) argues, he “does something much more complicated and interesting: he constructs a huge road-map of the known human world, past and present, in which everything is linked through story to everything else. He weaves a dense web of causal connections [...].” Even though these digressions may at times detract the reader from the main story and interrupt the flow of the main narrative thread, they nevertheless make the overall narration of The Histories more compre- hensive, interesting, and informative. They complement and explain the primary story, providing the reader with further information and details. The interweaving of these different narrative detours adds colour to the narrative while further enlightening the audience, offering readers of that time a more global view of the known world.

Historical, Ethnographical, and Geographical Digressions

The digressions that frequently interrupt Herodotus’s main narrative are historical, ethnographical, and geographical in nature. Historical digressions, usually in the form of anachronies, either provide background information and assist in the understanding of the main thread of events as they unfold, or clarify certain aspects of the story by providing an analogy. The episode describing how the Athenians freed themselves from their tyrants is such a historical digression: “After being thrown out of Sparta, Aristagoras went to Athens, which had become free of its tyrants. This is how it happened. [...]” (H, 5:55, 323–24), and it ends as follows: “So that is how the Athenians rid themselves of tyrants” (H, 5:65, 327). Within this digression, Herodotus inserts briefer digressions, which help to explain some aspect of the Athenians’ efforts to get rid of the tyrants. For instance, he begins one analepsis as follows: “The Gephyraei – the family to which Hipparchus’s assassins belonged – came originally, [...]” (H, 5:57, 324), while the other is a proleptic analepsis: “Hipparchus’s dream, which occurred [...]” (H, 5:56, 324). Both

18 Penelope Frangakis digressions conclude as follows: “Anyway, now that I have described Hipparchus’s dream and the origins of the Gephyraei, the family to which Hipparchus’s assassins belonged, I had better return to the story I started out to tell, about how the Athenians freed themselves from their tyrants” (H, 5:62, 325). As you can see from this example, Herodotus masterfully combines different types of digressive material without losing track of the main plotline, or rather, as soon as he seems to lose it, he reminds himself to return to his main idea – a pattern very much in the tradition of oral storytelling and one that allows the narrator both to provide special insider information and to digress repeatedly, always at the risk of exasperating the audience. Through the use of ethnographical digressions, Herodotus (4:59, 254–4:65, 256) lists and describes customs and practices: “[...] their customs are as follows. [...]. So much for these practices of theirs”; “Here is how the Libyans live. [...]. On the subject of Libya I can also say that there are four (and, as far as anyone knows, no more than four) nations living in it, [...]” (4:168, 292–4:197, 301). Moreover, he sometimes uses ethnographical digressions to create analogies between customs and practices of different peoples, e.g., “[t]here is another Egyptian custom which is similar to a Greek custom – or to be precise to a Lacedaemonian one. [...]. Something else the Egyptians do, however, is not Greek at all: [...]” (H, 2:80, 125). Similar to historical and ethnographical digressions, Herodotus tends also to establish analogies through geographical digressions, e.g., “[w]hen the Nile covers the land, only the towns are visible above the water, and they look like nothing so much as the Aegean islands” (H, 2:97, 131). The following example of a geographical digression is not only an analogy of animals in Scythia and Elis but is further proof of Herodotus’s (4:30, 244– 45) desire to attach as much information as possible to his ongoing account: “Anyway, that is what happens as a result of the cold. But there is one thing that puzzles me (this may be a digression, but then this account has sought out such digressions ever since its beginning): what stops mules being born anywhere in Elis, which is not a cold place?” Primarily, however, he uses geographical digressions as a means of describing, as in the following passage: “I will list the most notable rivers – that is, those which can be sailed up from the sea. There is the Ister with its five mouths, then the Tyras, the Hypanis, the Gerrhus, and the Tanaïs. And here are their courses. [...]. It is clear then that Scythia is very well off for notable rivers” (H, 4:47, 250–4:58, 254).

Narrative Voice and Focalisation

In addition to authoring his narrative, Herodotus takes on the prominent role of being the “voice” who exercises tight control over all levels of discourse. Genette (1986, 213), when describing narrative agents differentiates between “focalizer” and “voice.” “Voice” as defined by Genette, is a narrative category that describes who is actually speaking/ narrating, in contrast to the “focalizer,” who perceives the story being related. Yet inter- estingly, Herodotus as historian and author is not only the “voice” of the (hi)story but also functions as a kind of “focalizer.” Before explaining this latter function, I will first elaborate on his role as “voice.”

The Role of the Historian 19

As has been illustrated by earlier examples, Herodotus frequently intervenes in the flow of narrative events by offering meta-commentary, either in the first or second person. Such comments draw attention to his own presence by referring to his activity as organi- zer of the text – the historian who has to choose from and assist the audience in assessing the credibility of each source. Meta-commentary is also an important tool that allows Herodotus (7:139, 451) to express his own judgment on events or to offer explanations as to the cause and effect of events, which are usually introduced in the following manner: “At this point I feel impelled to express an opinion which I am not going to keep to myself, despite the fact that it will offend a great many people, because I believe it to be true”; “On reflection it seems to me that Xerxes ordered the digging of the canal out of a sense of grandiosity and arrogance, [...]” (7:24, 417; cf. 5:3, 304; 8:30, 498). Apart from such direct statements, the author voices his scepticism, criticism, or doubts by means of tone or irony. With expressions such as “as though” and “as if,” Herodotus (6:121, 395) indirectly contradicts common assumptions, as for example, when he writes: “I find the story about the Alcmaeonidae too implausible to believe, as if they would ever have signalled the Persians by prior agreement with a shield, because they wanted Athens to be controlled by foreigners and Hippias!” Herodotus organizes his complex and multifarious material, a time-frame of two centuries and a large cast of characters, by adopting an ever-present authorial “voice,” guiding the audience along the route of the narrative. As a third person overt narrator, he established a tradition of historiographic narration that survives until this day – a view of the historian whose task it is to inform and to instruct the audience through comments, explanations, interpretations, and criticism while, most importantly, self-consciously commenting on this process. Herodotus’s overt and continuous authorial interventions reassure the audience that the narrative is in the hands of someone who knows what he is doing but who is by no means without flaws or omniscient. He maintains contact with the audience, often offering signposts to ensure that readers follow him with full compre- hension. On certain occasions he adopts the first person plural in order that the audience will empathize with his efforts to locate reliable sources that will allow him to present, as far as possible, a credible narrative: “So far, the Lacedaemonian and the Theran accounts agree, but for subsequent events we have to rely on the Therans alone” (H, 4:150, 285). On other occasions, Herodotus (2:11, 99) poses rhetorical questions to involve the audience (or primary narratees, as such) and to cause them to ponder: So if the Nile decided to change its course and flow into this Arabian Gulf, what would stop the gulf from silting up within twenty thousand years? [...]. Now, in all the time which has preceded my own lifetime, would even a much larger gulf than the one I am talking about not have become silted up by such a large and vigorous river? However, while Herodotus seems in control of his narrative, and while he certainly tries to maintain a close relationship with his readers, he is not insisting on firm causal rela- tionships between events. On the contrary, he manages to make everything seem poten- tially important and interconnected; readers must draw their conclusions. As a narrator, Herodotus does not always inform the audience which episodes or events he thinks are

20 Penelope Frangakis relatively more important than others (Dewald 2008, xxvii), but allows readers to judge for themselves. The historian-author’s function as a primary narrator allows him to relinquish the presentation of events to secondary narrators, or characters, whose accounts, “logoi,” are usually presented in direct or indirect speech and are used by Herodotus for several reasons: 1) to reveal various versions of the story, 2) to emphasize or to elucidate specific facts, and 3) to account for the various sources of a particular story. In the following example, Herodotus (7:8, 406–7:11, 412) directly presents the speeches of Xerxes, and his courtiers Mardonius and Artabanus, in order to clarify the main arguments of the Persians in determining whether or not to invade Greece: When the meeting was convened, Xerxes said, “Men of Persia, I am introducing no new custom here; [...]. I intend to bridge the Hellespont and march an army through Europe and against Greece, so that I can make the Athenians pay for all that they have done to Persia and to my father. [...].” After he had finished, Mardonius spoke up. “Master,” he said, “you are the greatest Persian there has ever been, [...].” There Mardonius stopped, once he had made Xerxes’s proposal seem plausible. No one else had anything to say – certainly, no one dared to voice an opinion contrary to the one before them – until Artabanus the son of Hystapes broke the silence, relying on the fact that he was Xerxes’s uncle. [...]. “But this campaign you’re planning, my lord, is against men who are vastly superior to the Scythians; they have the highest reputation for bravery on both land and sea. There is danger involved, and it is only right for me to point it out to you. [...].” In this passage Herodotus conveys the Persian arguments in favor of proceeding with the campaign against the Greeks (Xerxes’s and Mardonius’s speeches) as well as of those against mounting an expedition against Greece (Artabanus’s speech). At the same time Herodotus conveys what had taken place earlier (within the speeches previous Persian campaigns are being mentioned) and what was going to happen (carrying out the expedition narrated in Xerxes’s and Mardonius’s speeches, and the outcome of this expedition in Artabanus’s speech). Herodotus clearly takes on the role of the narrator, exercising full control over the story being narrated while at the same time integrating secondary narrators in the form of speakers who allow readers to actually “hear” the original voices of historical person- ages. Thus he creates the impression of a direct and authentic account. One of the most significant aspects of the tradition of history writing that Herodotus ascribes to, and partly establishes, is the use of zero focalisation. Herodotus is not only the “voice” who tells or reports what he observes but is a narrator with direct access to his characters’ thoughts, feelings, and perceptions. While for modern historiographers, direct (omniscient) insight into the minds of historical figures is a fraught issue because of the difficulty of accessing the consciousness of historical agents, Herodotus, like most ancient historians, provides detailed and in-depth accounts of interior lives without expressing any qualms about providing glimpses into the mind of his characters via psycho-narration: “To Darius’ mind, no Persian ever performed a greater act of service than Zopyrus [...]” (H, 3:160, 234). Apart from thoughts and opinions, Herodotus (1:88– 90, 41) also reveals the feelings of some of his characters, as with this example:

The Role of the Historian 21

That is what Croesus said. Cyrus untied him and had him seated nearby. He was very impressed with him, and he and his whole entourage admired the man’s demeanour. But Croesus was silent, deep in thought. [...]. Cyrus was delighted with what Croesus was saying; he thought the suggestion was excellent. Through zero focalisation, Herodotus allows for a more intense historical experience that enables the audience to infer what historical characters saw, and, correspondingly thought or felt. In the following passage, the author/narrator transports the audience to the very moments when Xerxes was on a hill on Abydus surveying his army while at the same time describing his feelings. From this vantage-point he could look down on to the sea-shore and see both the land army and the fleet. As he watched them he conceived the desire to see the ships race; the contest duly took place and was won by the Phoenicians from Sidon. Xerxes took great pleasure in the race, and indeed in the whole army. (H, 7:44, 423) Another example of spectacles triggering emotions is Xerxes’s sighting of Hellespont: “The sight of the Hellespont completely covered by his ships, and the coast and plains of Abydus totally overrun by men first gave Xerxes a feeling of deep self-satisfaction, but later he began to weep” (H, 7:45, 423–24). The following example offers a chain reaction of the characters seeing and then correspondingly thinking and feeling: From Therma Xerxes could see the vast bulk of Mount Ossa in Thessaly. He found out that half-way between them there was a narrow ravine, with the River Peneius flowing through it, and was told that there was a way into Thessaly there. This made him want to sail to see the mouth of the Peneius, because his plan was to take the inland route, according to the information he had. Having conceived this desire, he acted on it. [...]. Once he got to the mouth of the Peneius, Xerxes was astonished at what he saw. (H, 7:128, 447) The passage illustrates that at the same time as Xerxes enjoys the grandeur of nature he also deliberates how he might subdue Thessaly. In these instances when we literally “watch” one of the characters view a scene, we feel as if we are watching with this character; thus Herodotus closely approaches using internal focalisation. He renders the historical figures of his narrative as individuals who perceive, think, and feel – as characters with whom the reader can sympathise. He thus establishes a tradition that would later be taken up by historians such as Plutarch (cf. Parallel Lives), who also leaned strongly towards poesis and offered insights into his protagonists’ thoughts and feelings.5

Sources and Credibility

While reading Herodotus’s account, the reader is constantly aware that it is based on “real”-world references, that is, actual events outside the textual world. The notion of referentiality and how it must continue to inform the work of historians has been

5 Today, this tendency of portraying the thoughts and feelings of historical figures is especially predominant in popular history writing, but it can also be found in accounts purporting to be scientifically sound.

22 Penelope Frangakis discussed by scholars such as Mink (1978, 148–49), Berkhofer (1988, 450) and Ricœur (1988, 142–56). Literary scholars such as Dorrit Cohn and Roland Barthes have especially emphasized the historians’ task, or rather obligation, to discuss and mention their sources. From such discussions it has become established that one aspect particular to any historiographical discourse, including the Herodotean narrative, is its extratextual logic, or what is termed by Ricœur (1983, 311–22) a pre-compositional logic. In The Histories, this logic is usually expressed via the use of devices that Roland Barthes describes as shifters of discourse,6 and Dorrit Cohn calls perigraphic apparatus.7 In the Herodotean narrative, the “perigraphic apparatus” and the “shifters” can be found as direct, meta-narrative comments, or what is termed by Fludernik as “ruminations” (cf. Lippert/Nitz 2009, 236), reflections by the narrator on the process of writing, researching, and composing this particular version of history. Herodotus quite often makes use of inferential and conjectural syntactical devices to mark his creation process, as in the following example: Now, I am not in a position to say with absolute certainty that Xerxes did send this message to Argos and that an Argive delegation did go to Susa to ask Artaxerxes about their friendship. The only version of events I am prepared to affirm is the one told by the Argives themselves. (H, 7:152, 457; my emphasis) He also frequently comments directly on how he arrived at his conclusions, on his sources in general, and on problems he encountered trying to find reliable sources: “According to learned Persians, it was the Phoenicians who caused the conflict” (H, 1:1, 3). Another example is the following: No one knows for sure what lies further inland from the region this account has set out to describe. I cannot get information from anyone who claims to have firsthand knowledge [...]. However, I will put down all the reliable information I have been able to gain as a result of my enquiries. (H, 4:16, 241) Herodotus doesn’t include footnotes or endnotes to reference and explain his process of composing The Histories. He sometimes implicitly but primarily explicitly cites and discusses his sources and explains his selection criteria. Quite often he preludes or appends an account of how he arrived at this particular version of events: “My version will be based on what certain Persians say, those who seek to tell the truth rather than

6 Barthes (1989, 128–31) differentiates between “shifters of listening” and “organization” on the one hand and “signs of the writer/sender” on the other. He uses the term “shifters of listening” to indicate that besides the event reported, the discourse mentions the origins of facts. “Shifters of listening” basically designate all mention of sources and testimony, all reference to a “listening” of the historian. Explicit listening relates the historian to the ethnologist who mentions his informant. The second type, “shifters of organization,” covers all the declared signs by which the “writer,” in this case the historian, organizes his or her own discourse, revises it, and modifies it in the process of expression, in short, arranges explicit references within it. 7 According to Cohn, the varied and potent impact of referential constraints on the discursive level of historical narratives is associated with the presence of an entire “perigraphic” apparatus (foot- or endnoted, prefatory or appended), which constitutes a textual zone intermediating between the narrative text itself and its extratextual documentary base, which penetrates into the narrative itself (cf. Cohn 1990, 782).

The Role of the Historian 23 exalt Cyrus’s achievements. But I know of three other versions of the Cyrus story” (H, 1:95, 45). As could be noted in the passages quoted above, Herodotus makes abundant use of “shifters of listening.” Their forms vary from simple interpolations of the type “as I have heard,” “to our knowledge,” to exact mentions of the informant and the written source. Occasionally, he marks references to his production process with the present tense, such as in “[i]f I am to express my view in more detail, it is as follows [...]” (H, 2:25, 104). In many instances, information is derived from personal experience, which Herodotus (2:147, 154) announces quite openly, emphasising the ensuing reliability of the information provided in such a manner: “[...] I will report views about this country shared by other people as well as by the Egyptians. This will be supplemented as well by what I personally saw.” The last quotation is also a nice example of how Herodotus comments on the manner in which his narrative is organized. Herodotus’s narrative draws on many different sources, and the author/narrator functions as what could be described as a “focalever” in arranging and presenting information and their origins. I introduce this term because Herodotus, as an ancient historian, takes on a singular role in navigating extra-textual references. “Focalever” is comprised of three words: focus, lever, verifier. In his The Histories, Herodotus seems to literally shift levers in order to focus attention on specific sources, and to verify their respective credibility. Herodotus navigates between numerous different sources, or, rather, informants, and he shifts the perspective and focus from one version of events and characters to another. He doesn’t always reveal his sources, but when he does so, he generally attempts to state whether they are verifiable and credible. The terms “shifters of discourse,” “perigraphic apparatus,” and “focalever” are associated with the integration of the citational process with an extratextual/pre-compositional logic, and, by extension, with extra-narrative comments/meta-commentary within the historiographic narrative. The term “focalever,” however, is complementary to terms such as “perigraphic apparatus” and “discourse shifters,” for while the other terms seem to be mainly associated with mentioning and arranging sources and the production process in general, the term “focalever” denotes the extent to which the historian makes the audience aware of the identity and credibility of the sources. As an illustration of the singular role of Herodotus (2:150, 156) as a “focalever,” the following episode is one in which the identity and credibility of the source are clearly stated: I did not see any earth heaped up anywhere from the excavation of the lake, and that bothered me, so I asked some people who lived right by the lake where the excavated earth was, and they told me where it had been taken. I found their explanation very plausible because I knew by report of something similar happen- ing in the Assyrian city of Ninus. This passage clearly conveys that the sources of information on the lake of Moeris are the people who lived by the lake, and it also reveals that these informants are credible since what they related could be verified by other reports. Quite in contrast to most current historians, Herodotus not only reveals the source of his information but also comments on its credibility.

24 Penelope Frangakis

One of the main sources on which Herodotus (7:228, 484; cf. 4:88, 264–65; 4:91, 265) relies is written material such as inscriptions: “The inscription on the memorial reads: Here once were three million of the foe opposed by four thousand from the Peloponnese.” Sometimes, Herodotus (2:29, 105) has to rely on his own observations: “I was unable to get any information from anyone else. However, I myself travelled as far as Elephantine and saw things with my very own eyes, and subsequently made enquiries of others; [...]”; and/or personal experience: “[n]ow, they decided to build monuments together to leave for posterity, and having reached this decision, they constructed a labyrinth just beyond the lake of Moeris, very close to the place called Crocodilopolis. I have personally seen it, and it defies description” (2:148, 154). Furthermore, as already described, he frequently names informants of various kinds as his source: “So far, then, my account has relied on what the Egyptians alone say, but now I will report views about this country shared by other people as well as by the Egyptians” (H, 2:147, 154); “So far, my account has relied on what I was told by the Egyptians and their priests” (H, 2:142, 152). As part of his role as a “focalever” and through the use of “shifters of discourse” and “perigraphic apparatus,” Herodotus assists the audience in assessing the credibility of each source as he verifies or judges accounts with a combination of hearsay, reports, and his own experience and knowledge: So far my account of Egypt has been dictated by my own observation, judgement, and investigation, but from now on I will be relating Egyptian accounts, supplemented by what I personally saw. (H, 2:99, 132) I am sure that those who give this account of Egypt are right, and, I am particularly convinced of its correctness because I have seen that Egypt projects beyond the adjacent landmass, that shells appear in the mountains, that salt forms crusts on the surface of the ground and corrodes even the pyramids, and that the only sandy mountain range in Egypt is the one overlooking Memphis. (H, 2:12, 99) It becomes apparent that Herodotus functions less as an authoritative historian than as a chronicler or detective – collecting data, opinions, and evidence to draw a complex picture of historical developments and the way they are perceived by its agents or wit- nesses. It is often up to the audience to judge the degree of the narrative’s credibility. The way in which prefatory or appended “perigraphic apparatuses” and “shifters of discourse” are used within the narrative text aid in the assessment of credibility: “Anyone who finds such things credible can make of these Egyptian stories what he wishes. My job, throughout this account, is simply to record whatever I am told by each of my sources” (H, 2:123, 144); “Anyone can adopt whichever of these alternative stories he finds more plausible; in any case, I have stated my own opinion” (2:146, 154); “I cannot vouch for the truth of this story; I am simply recording what is said. Still, it might all be true, since I have personally seen [...]” (4:195, 300). These examples also show that Herodotus does not, however, pretend to be un-biased. Verification, the assessment of evidence, and the reasonable deployment of sources are most important in factual reconstruction. When the evidence is seemingly inadequate, the task of the historian becomes even more difficult. In ancient times, historians encountered this challenge by using arguments of probability and presenting the fruits of

The Role of the Historian 25 these arguments with much less circumspection than their successors have done under similar circumstances. When evidence seems scarce, Herodotus turns to supplementing it with informed speculation and a plausible argument. For example, he announces that [his] estimate is that their numbers at this point were still as follows [...]” (H, 7:184, 469); “[...] but no one knows how many Greeks fought alongside the non-Greeks in Mardonius’s army, because no tally was made of them. Relying on guesswork, however, I would estimate that there were about 50,000 of them assembled there” (9:32, 555). In other cases, Herodotus clearly marks explanations as conjectures and distances himself from them (“they say”; cf. for the use of indirect speech as a distancing device, Hornblower 1994, 2). He also highlights what he thinks approximates the truth: “That was more or less what they said” (H, 7:136, 450); “That, or something like it, is what he said” (3:156, 233). Further, Herodotus often points to the amount of evidence available. In the following passage, for example, he reports something that is based on one piece of evidence: “The only evidence I can offer in support of this assessment [...] is that the Lacedaemonians took on the toughest opponents and won” (H, 9:71, 570). In his role as a “focalever,” Herodotus uses extra-narrative commentary, mainly “shifters of listening,” to inform or at least implicitly hint at non-verifiable or unlikely versions of events. He openly admits, for example, when he cannot provide information: “I am not in a position to say what happened to the Athenians as a result of their treat- ment of the heralds” (H, 7:133, 448–49); or, when he is not absolutely certain about something, e.g., “[n]ow, I am not in a position to say with absolute certainty that Xerxes did send this message to Argos and that an Argive delegation did go to Susa to ask Artaxerxes about their friendship” (7:152, 457); or, when he is speculating, e.g., “[a]nyway, if the painting was reliable, I can tell you something about the phoenix’s size [...]” (2:73, 123). He tries to identify rumor or hearsay, e.g., “[a]s they were advancing, a rumour sped its way to the entire army and a herald’s wand was seen lying on the beach; the rumour, which spread throughout the ranks was that the Greeks had defeated Mardonius’s army in a battle in Boeotia” (H, 9:100, 581). Herodotus (7:152, 457) does not suppress stories that he does not believe and, instead, claims that it is his duty to recount all versions: “I am obliged to record the things I am told, but I am certainly not required to believe them – this remark may be taken to apply to the whole of my account.” As a result, many fascinating tales are scattered throughout The Histories, including many that the historian himself may not have fully believed. Moreover, he often evaluates stories or versions of stories he does not believe are credible: “There is also however a story – albeit one which I find unbelievable that a Persian woman once came to visit Cyrus’s wives [...]” (H, 3:3, 170); “There is another story according to which Onetas the son of Phanagoras of Carystus and Corydallus of Anticyra were the ones who gave the king this information and showed the Persians the way around the mountain, but personally I do not believe it” (7:214, 479). Including unlikely versions of events and admitting to not being omniscient or certain by no means lessens the overall credibility of Herodotus’s account. On the contrary, these aspects of the narrative introduce “possible worlds” and a variety of perspectives, although, in most cases, the author’s own judgment accompanies these versions. In addition, Herodotus often attempts to provide as much credibility as possible with his

26 Penelope Frangakis accounts and tries to verify his “story” by the strongest evidence he can offer. The following passages convey his efforts to assure the audience that most of his narrative is based on substantial evidence: “However, my own researches have led me to conclude that they were Phoenicians, [...]” (H, 5:57, 324); “I saw there something astonishing, which I had heard about from the local inhabitants” (3:12, 173); “There is plenty of other evidence to support the idea that this opinion of one’s own customs is universal, but here is one instance” (3:38, 185); “I can mention these Persian customs with confidence because I know about them, [...]” (1:140, 63). His eagerness to base his account on valid evidence can also be detected in the following phrases: “there is substantial evidence to support this, [...]” (H, 8:120, 529); “I myself went through the ground-level rooms and saw them, and so I speak from firsthand knowledge, [...]” (2:148, 155). Herodotus is generally very concerned about the audience’s view, which finds expression in statements such as: I am not going to mention the size of the plants that grow from millet-seed and sesame-seed, although I know how big they are, because I am well aware of the sceptical response even my account of the crops has evoked in those who have not been to the Babylonian countryside. (H, 1:193, 85) The concern for the audience’s judgment motivates him consistently to relate the best version possible of the logoi he has heard or read: One also hears it said that Leonidas himself told them to leave because he wanted to spare their lives, but believed that it would be wrong for him and the Spartiates who were there to desert the post they had originally been sent to hold. On this version of events, which I myself strongly incline towards, when Leonidas saw that his allies were demoralized, and unhappy about facing the coming danger with him, he told them that they could go, but that it would not be right for him to leave. (H, 7:220, 481)

Conclusion

Herodotus is the prototype of the historian who constructs a historiographic narrative based on scientific and literary methods. He delivers a source-based narrative with literary finesse. The temporal organisation of The Histories, through the use of narrative techniques such as analepsis, prolepsis, ellipsis, summary, and scene, not only clarifies the narrative, varies its pace, and strengthens its argument, but also takes the audience on an informative and intriguing journey full of suspense and excitement. The unified textual arrangement of the Herodotean narrative, achieved to a great extent through the use of cohesive narrative devices such as ring-composition, cross-reference, conclusions, headline, and repetition of prolepses and analepses, guides the audience, retains its interest, and helps it understand the connections between the various topics and time periods. Crucially, Herodotus’s objective is not to provide a fixed account of events and circumstances but to investigate them systematically and critically through the aid of personal observation, research, collecting, recording, and evaluating historical data. As part of his factual reconstruction efforts, Herodotus continuously comments on his sources and their credibility; as a “focalever,” he enables the audience to assess this

The Role of the Historian 27 aspect as well. Herodotus as author/narrator is very much in control of his narrative even assuming omniscience when it comes to the interior worlds of his characters (zero- focalisation). However, he avoids giving the impression of imitating a fictional omniscient narrator by consistently questioning and discussing different versions and interpretations of events and their causal-relations. He leaves ample room for readers to judge for themselves while of course stating his own preferences and readings. We may question whether the very vivid accounts, details, and thoughtful presentations in his narrative are the product of actual memory. However, Herodotus does not wish to manipulate his audience through such presentations, nor does he expect his audience to believe everything he has written, although he does endeavor to provide the “best” version(s) of past events. For him and for his fifth-century audience, such narrative practices would not have seemed unusual. This ancient master of history telling doesn’t provide an altogether authoritative account of the then known world but, rather, depicts a complex, multifaceted, and sometimes perplexing one. With a passion for details, detours, and digressions, Herodotus paints a picture comprised of rumors, myths, personal observations, and fact based material.

Works Cited

Barthes, Roland. 1989. The Rustle of Language. Translated by Howard Richard. Califor- nia: University of California Press. Berkhofer, Robert F. 1997. Beyond the Great Story: History as Text and Discourse. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard UP. Berkhofer, Robert F. 1988. “The Challenge of Poetics to (Normal) Historical Practice.” Poetics Today 9.2, 435–52. Brock, Roger. 2003. “Authorial Voice and Narrative Management in Herodotus.” In: Herodotus and His World. Essays from a Conference in Memory of George Forrest. Edited by Peter Derow and Robert Parker. Oxford: Oxford UP, 3–16. Cohn, Dorrit. 1990. “Signposts of Fictionality: A Narratological Perspective.” Poetics Today 11.4, 775–804. de Jong, Irene J. F. 2002. “Narrative Unity and Units.” In: Brill’s Companion to Herodotus. Edited by Egbert J. Bakker, Irene J. F. de Jong, and Hans van Wees. Leiden: Brill, 245–66. de Jong, Irene J. F. 2004. “Introduction: Narratological Theory on Narrators, Narratees, and Narrative.” In: Narrators, Narratees, and Narratives in Ancient Greek Litera- ture: Studies in Ancient Greek Narrative, Volume One. Edited by Angus Bowie, Irene de Jong, and René Nünlist. Leiden: Brill, 1–10. Dewald, Carolyn. 2008. Introduction to The Histories by Herodotus. Translated by Robin Waterfield. Oxford: Oxford UP, ix–xli. Genette, Gérard. 1986. Narrative Discourse. Translated by Jane E. Lewin. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

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Griffiths, Alan. 2006. “Stories and Storytelling in The Histories.” In: The Cambridge Companion to Herodotus. Edited by Carolyn Dewald and John Marincola. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 130–44. Herodotus. 2004. The Histories. Edited by Donald Lateiner. Translated by G. C. Macaulay. New York: Barnes and Noble Books. Herodotus. 2008. The Histories. Edited by Carolyn Dewald and translated by Robin Waterfield. Oxford: Oxford UP. Hornblower, Simon. 1994. “Introduction: Summary of the Papers; the Story of Greek Historiography; Intertextuality and the Greek Historians.” In: Greek Historio- graphy. Edited by Simon Hornblower. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1–72. Hornblower, Simon. 2002. “Herodotus and his Sources of Information.” In: Brill’s Com- panion to Herodotus. Edited by Egbert J. Bakker, Irene J. F. de Jong, and Hans van Wees. Leiden: Brill, 373–86. Lateiner, Donald. 2004. Introduction to The Histories by Herodotus. Translated by G. C. Macaulay. New York: Barnes and Noble Books, xv–xxxii. Lippert/Nitz, Julia. 2009. “A ‘Natural’ Reading of Historiographical Texts: George III at Kew.” In: Narratology in the Age of Interdisciplinary Narrative Research. Edited by Sandra Heinen and Roy Sommer. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 228–43. Mink, Louis O. 1978. “Narrative Form as a Cognitive Instrument.” In: The Writing of History. Edited by Robert H. Canari and Henri Kozicki. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 129–49. Pitcher, Luke. 2009. Writing Ancient History: An Introduction to Classical Historio- graphy. London: I. B. Tauris. Ricœur, Paul. 1983. Temps et récit. L’intrigue et le récit historique. Paris: Seuil. Ricœur, Paul. 1988. Time and Narrative. 3 vols [1984–1988]. Translated by Kathleen McLaughlin and David Pellauer. Chicago: Chicago UP.

Author’s Address:

Dr. Penelope Frangakis P.O. Box. 66041 Post Code 15501 Cholargos, Athens, Greece E-Mail: [email protected]

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