Alexander the Great in Arrian’s Anabasis: A Literary Portrait [ebook ed.] 3110659972, 9783110659979

Table of contents :
[9783110659979 - Alexander the Great in Arrians Anabasis] Frontmatter......Page 1
Foreword......Page 7
Contents......Page 9
Introduction......Page 13
Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism......Page 26
March-Narrative and Characterization......Page 93
Atemporality and Characterization......Page 134
Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero......Page 175
General Conclusions......Page 238
Bibliography......Page 251
Index nominum et rerum......Page 269
Index locorum......Page 281

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Vasileios Liotsakis Alexander the Great in Arrian’s Anabasis

Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes

Edited by Franco Montanari and Antonios Rengakos Associate Editors Evangelos Karakasis · Fausto Montana · Lara Pagani Serena Perrone · Evina Sistakou · Christos Tsagalis Scientific Committee Alberto Bernabé · Margarethe Billerbeck Claude Calame · Jonas Grethlein · Philip R. Hardie Stephen J. Harrison · Richard Hunter · Christina Kraus Giuseppe Mastromarco · Gregory Nagy Theodore D. Papanghelis · Giusto Picone Tim Whitmarsh · Bernhard Zimmermann

Volume 78

Vasileios Liotsakis

Alexander the Great in Arrian’s Anabasis

ISBN 978-3-11-065873-6 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-065997-9 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-065879-8 ISSN 1868-4785 Library of Congress Control Number: 2019936535 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2019 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Editorial Office: Alessia Ferreccio and Katerina Zianna Logo: Christopher Schneider, Laufen Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com



… for Semina

Foreword This book was composed in the period between March 2016 and March 2019, and there have been a great number of people to whom I am grateful for their precious help and kindness. First and foremost I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my PhD supervisor, Professor Antonios Rengakos, for his support and encouragement during these years and for carefully re-reading all the parts of this book as well as its final manuscript. It is no exaggeration to say that he once again stood by me as a mentor with the same eagerness and generosity as he did with my dissertation on Thucydides some years ago. I am especially grateful to him and Franco Montanari for hosting my second monograph too in their excellent series Trends in Classics. I am also deeply indebted to Professors Ioannis M. Konstantakos and Christos Tsagalis for reading drafts of the book and generously providing me with their invaluable comments. Different segments of this monograph were written at different places, which is why I wish to thank the various institutions and colleagues who contributed to the maintenance of a serene atmosphere, in which I was indeed fortunate to work on my Arrian project. I am thus grateful to the Onasis Foundation and Boğaziçi University of Bosporus (Istanbul) for offering me the position of a Visiting Lecturer at the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, Department of History in the spring semester of the academic year 2015-2016. The warm hospitality of the Department Chair Professor Çiğdem Kafescioğlu, the rest of my colleagues, as well as of the library staff, established the ideal circumstances, under which I was allowed to focus undistracted on my research of the associations between Arrian’s style and the Homeric epics (Chapter IV of this book). I would also like to warmly thank the staff of the library in the School of Classical Philology at the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens. Although since 2011 I officially do not belong to the School of Classical Philology of the NKUA, the people working on the library never forget that I had my BA and MA at their department and always welcome me as a member of their academic family by providing me with bibliography. My research activities are always immensely facilitated by them during my stays in Athens. From November 2016 until November 2018 it was a great honor for me to work as an Alexander-von-Humboldt Post-Doctoral Fellow at the Department of Classical Philology at Ruprecht-Karls University of Heidelberg. I thus wish to express my deepest gratitude to Professor Jonas Grethlein for our excellent cooperation during these two years. He and Professor Lisa Hau read the initial drafts of this book and generously offered me many insightful observations on how to improve my argumentation, style, and methodology. The present book, as it stands, owes https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-202

VIII  Foreword much to both of them, while any errors, deficiencies, or problems in this book are my fault. I was also fortunate enough to benefit from the engaging discussions with my colleagues in Heidelberg during my lectures within the framework of our weekly ‘Forschungskolloquium’. Special thanks also go to Dr. Luuk Huitink for his precious friendship and the company he kept with me during the first year of my stay in Heidelberg. Our wonderful discussions gave birth to many intriguing thoughts on sundry aspects of human culture, ranging from classical philology and literary theory to philosophy and politics, thoughts which had a significant impact on the intellectual properties of this book. I also wish to express my appreciation to the Center for Hellenic Studies (CHS) Fellowships Program and the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, Department of Classics (AUTH) for accepting me as a CHS-AUTH Fellow in Hellenic Studies from May 22, 2017 until May 21, 2018. In this respect, I would like to thank Professors Gregory Nagy, Richard Martin, Lucia Athanassaki, and Antonios Rengakos for their precious guidance in my project “Nearchus’ Nostos: Narrative Suspense in Arrian’s Indikē”. Apart from appearing in two forthcoming articles, the outcomes of my research on Arrian’s Indikē were also incorporated at various points of this book. I am also deeply grateful to my friends and colleagues Dr. Nikos Manousakis, Dr. Andreas Panoutsopoulos, and Professor Mario Baumann for providing me with bibliography. The book also benefitted the most from Dr. Jonathan Griffith’s editing of the English language. Last but not least, I would like to thank Professors Kostas Vlassopoulos and Andrew Erskine for their help in the conception of the research proposal “Between Tradition and Innovation: Arrian’s Place in Classical Historiography”. The book is dedicated to Semina Rouni, who, since we met, has never ceased embracing with affection and patience my inexplicable keenness to serve the field of Classical Philology. Without her support and sweet smile, nothing of all this would have been possible in the same colours.

Heidelberg, March 19, 2019 V.L.

Contents Foreword    VII Introduction  1  . . .. .. .. .. .. . .. .. .. .. .. .. .  . . .. .. . .. .. .. .. .

Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism  14 The pivotal digression (4.8–14): res gestae and arrogance  18 Alexander besieging cities  24 ‘Saving’ Thebes, Halicarnassus, and Tarsus  24 Tyre: divine favor and moral justification  28 Gaza: the king’s aidōs  32 The three rocks: from aidōs to vanity  35 Nysa: predisposing the reader for Books V–VI  43 Alexander and the barbarians  47 Marching against the peoples of Europe: the great conqueror’s debut  47 Conquering Lycia, Pamphylia, and Cilicia: a divine gift to the prudent king  51 Uxians, Mardi, Cossaeans: Alexander the civilizing hero  56 The Scythians’ justice vs. Alexander’s vanity  59 The inhabitants of the river Tanais/Syr Darya and the king’s cruelty  65 The Indians: the king’s lust for conquest  67 Conclusion  77 March-Narrative and Characterization  81 The historical context  87 The march-narrative of ch. 3.19–22: the pursuit of Darius  92 Framing  93 Material on the army and its stations  96 The march-narrative of ch. 3.23.1–30.5: Alexander avenging the murder of Darius  100 Framing  102 Individuals and peoples loyal to the Persian king  105 The regicides  108 Geographic data  112 Conclusion  118

X  Contents  . . .. .. .. .. . . . .

Atemporality and Characterization  122 Anachronies that cover the gaps generated by the individualfocused narrative  124 The atemporal collections of episodes in the overall design of the Anabasis  125 Emphasis  128 Transition  132 Framing  136 Retardation – escalation  139 Emphatic anachronies beyond the atemporal collections of episodes  143 Anachronies in the treason episodes  149 The two pivotal analepses: the Macedonians’ opposition towards Alexander’s decisions  156 Conclusion  161

. .. .. .. .. .. .

Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero  163 Heroic patterns: the Macedonian code of honor  166 Alexander at Troy and Arrian’s Second Preface  172 The Route to Troy  175 The Second Preface and Alexander’s words to Parmenio  179 The battle of the Granicus: Alexander’s first aristeia  185 From Issus to Gaugamela: the ‘anti-Homeric’ Darius  190 Alexander against the Malli: pursuing glory by death  195 Alexander mourning Hephaestion and Achilles mourning Patroclus  201 Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  205 Stylistic purposes  208 Generic limitations  210 Historical interpretation  211 From praise to criticism  213 Omitting the ‘Homeric’ sites of Hellenistic encomium  215 Conclusion  224

 . .

General Conclusions  226 Originality of style  227 Originality of judgment  231

 . . .. .. . . . .

Contents  XI

Bibliography  239 Index nominum et rerum  257 Index locorum  269

Introduction In the First Preface of his Anabasis of Alexander,1 Lucius Flavius Arrian from Nicomedia invites us to read his work in the light of Alexander the Great’s narrative tradition. In this way he recognizes that a comparative examination of his work would be the best method for us to appreciate the historical and artistic merits of his account (Arr. An. Praef. 3): ὅστις δὲ θαυμάσεται ἀνθ’ ὅτου ἐπὶ τοσοῖσδε συγγραφεῦσι καὶ ἐμοὶ ἐπὶ νοῦν ἦλθεν ἥδε ἡ συγγραφή, τά τε ἐκείνων πάντα τις ἀναλεξάμενος καὶ τοῖσδε τοῖς ἡμετέροις ἐντυχὼν οὕτω θαυμαζέτω.2 Anyone who is surprised that, with so many historians already in the field, it should have occurred to me too to compose this history should express his surprise only after perusing all their works and then reading mine.

This rhetorical exhortation to the readers emerges as particularly prophetic, and indeed prophetic in a tragic way. This is because, in comparison with the small

 1 The title Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀνάβασις is first found in Stephanus of Byzantium (α 489 Billerbeck (s.v. Ἀσσακηνοί): Ἀρριανὸς τετάρτῃ τῆς Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀναβάσεως). It also occurs in Suda (π 1619 Adler (s.v. περὶ Πινδάρου): Ἀρριανὸς ὁ ἱστορικὸς ἐν τῇ α΄ ἀναβάσει Ἀλεξάνδρου) and in the codex Vindobonensis (12th century CE). However, Arrian never mentions this title and, when once referring to his work, he names it “the account about Alexander” (7.3.1: ἐν τῇ περὶ Ἀλεξάνδρου συγγραφῇ). In his Bibliotheca, Photius refers to the work using the phrases τὰ κατὰ Ἀλέξανδρον τὸν Μακεδόνα (Bibl. cod. 58: 17a24), τὰ κατὰ Ἀλέξανδρον (cod. 91: 67b23), and τὰ περὶ Ἀλέξανδρον (cod. 93: 73b12). For further parallels from the works of authors who do not use the title Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀνάβασις, see Roos 1967, 1 and HCA I, 7–8. Most scholars (Krüger 1851, 1; Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1236; Roos 1967, 1; Sisti (AAA I, XVIII) too seems to accept the title) have spoken in favor of the originality of the title. Bosworth’s (HCA I, 8; 1988a, 26; HCA II, 4) suggestion that it must have been a later fabrication as one further parallelization between Arrian, the ‘New Xenophon’, and his literary model Xenophon (Κύρου ἀνάβασις), although tempting (cf. Burliga 2013, 1–2 n. 8), is difficult to prove. The fact that Arrian does not name his work ἀνάβασις in ch. 7.3.1 does not suffice to prove that he did not give it this title. Even today, an author, when speaking of her work in the work itself, very rarely refers to it by using its title. In such cases, authors usually use the phrases “in the present book / study” or “in my book on…”, which is, in a way, what Arrian seems to have done in the phrase ἐν τῇ περὶ Ἀλεξάνδρου συγγραφῇ. On the other hand, Bosworth has a point in noting the scantity of the sources that use the title Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀνάβασις and the frequency with which other titles occur. 2 For the texts of Arrian’s works, I use Roos’ edition. I also use Brunt’s (1976–1983) translation. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-001

2  Introduction handful of the fully preserved ancient accounts at our disposal,3 modern scholarship considers Arrian’s text to indeed be the most valid and comprehensive source we possess on Alexander’s campaign in Asia (334–323 BCE).4 As things stand at present, Arrian’s presumption on the superiority of his work has been proven right. Nonetheless, a fleeting glance at the modern scholarship of the Anabasis makes someone feel the tragic irony that is also latent in Arrian’s advice for us to compare his account with other works. For whereas intertextuality and the scarcity of Alexander’s historical sources have brought to the foreground the historical value of the Anabasis, the very same factors have also contributed to the neglect of its literary qualities. This is especially so at the level of narrative arrangement. On the one hand, Arrian’s sources are either lost or unidentifiable, or, in some cases, both. As Arrian informs us in the First Preface of his work (§§ 1–3), his primary sources were the accounts of two participants in Alexander’s expedition: first that of the Macedonian bodyguard Ptolemy, son of Lagus (later, Ptolemy I, king of Egypt 305–283/2 BCE) and second of the Greek Aristobulus of Cassandreia, son of Aristobulus. Both works are, however, lost. As a result we contend with mere conjectures about their title, scope and purpose. Our picture of Ptolemy’s history of Alexander is based almost exclusively on Arrian’s account (thirty fragments),5 while Aristobulus’ text has been slightly more fortuitous (sixty two fragments).6 With regard to Arrian’s other sources, Nearchus, Alexander’s navarch in India, is commonly believed – and with good reason – to have been just as trusted by Arrian as Ptolemy and Aristobulus, and to have been used by him especially

 3 Book XVII of Diodorus’ Historical Library, Curtius Rufus’ History of Alexander, Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, and Justin’s Epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ Philippic History. 4 Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1235; Kornemann 1935, 8, 16; Brunt 1976, xvi–xvii; Bosworth 1988a, 13– 15; Green 2007, XXVII; Heckel 2008, 8, 11–12; Rhodes 2010, 348; Burliga 2013, 4. 5 FGrH 138. Twenty five out of thirty fragments are found in Arrian. As for the other five, we have one in Strabo, two in Plutarch, one in Synesius, and one in Stephanus of Byzantium. See Strasburger 1934; Kornemann 1935; Pearson 1960, 188–211; Errington 1969; HCA I, 22–27; Stadter 1980, 67–72; Pédech 1984, 215–329; Roisman 1984; Tonnet 1988, 179–219; Delfino 2000; AAA I, XXVI–XXXVII. 6 FGrH 139. Of sixty two fragments thirty three are found in Arrian. One is also found in Lucian, twelve in Strabo, eight in Plutarch, four in Athenaeus, and one in Menander. See Tarn 1948 II, 29–43; Pearson 1960, 150–188; Brunt 1974; HCA I, 27–29; Stadter 1980, 69–72; Pédech 1984, 331– 405; Tonnet 1988, 133–177; Delfino 2000; AAA I, XIX–XXXVII.

Introduction  3

from Book VI onwards on the Macedonian army’s march in India.7 Nearchus’ account was also the core of Arrian’s Indikē, the Anabasis’ satellite text, in which Arrian relates the Macedonian fleet’s voyage under Nearchus’ command in the Indian Sea, from the Indus’ delta up to the Persian Gulf. Parallel citations of Nearchus’ periplus in Strabo help us to assemble a hazy idea of Nearchus’ work and of the way in which Arrian might have exploited it in compliance with his own compositional goals.8 Still, all these goals concern the Indikē. On the other hand, in the Anabasis, we have only four explicit citations of Nearchus (6.13.4–5; 6.24.2; 7.3.6; 7.20.9), from which we can draw merely the conclusion that in these cases Arrian drew from the Cretan author geographical data, anecdotal material, and judgments on Alexander’s motives and thoughts. As a result of this fragmentary source background, scholars have been deprived of the opportunity to fulfill Arrian’s wish to proceed with a comparative penetration into the strategies he followed in organizing his material. We cannot reach a precise definition of the narrative techniques through which he composed his own account on the basis of the histories at his disposal. This consequence of happenstance has further negative implications for those who wish to examine the circumstances under which Arrian developed certain narrative aspects, such as time, space, authorial comments, digressions, etc. Most importantly, we are not in a position to know which parts – be they words, phrases, sentences, or even larger segments – of his account are his own or which parts are borrowed verbatim from others. Besides being faced with the scarcity of the narrative tradition of Alexander, modern examination of the Anabasis in the light of its sources has also failed to illustrate Arrian’s style. This certainly owes something to the traditional tendency of such treatises not to focus on Arrian but on the author whom Arrian has occasionally been compared with. At the beginning of the 20th century, there was a series of efforts to reconstruct Aristobulus’ and Ptolemy’s accounts on the basis of Arrian’s text. These attempts inevitably left to rot any hope of approaching and analyzing Arrian’s style. The scholars who attempted to reconstruct these “lost  7 Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1239; FGrH, IIB, Komm., 467–468; Kornemann 1935, 20; Strasburger 1952, 458, 465; Pearson 1960, 112; cf. Brunt’s (1976, xxx) thoughts: “whom he regarded as no less reliable than Ptolemy and Aristobulus”; HCA I, 32; Bosworth 1988a, 13–14; HCA II, 361–365; AAA I, XXVI, XXXII; Müller 2014, 65–70; Gilhaus 2017, 394. Arrian also mentions two further authors, Aristus (FGrH 143 F4) and Asclepiades (FGrH 144 F1) (7.15.5). On opinions about them, see AAA II, 622. 8 The most influential efforts to compare Arrian’s and Strabo’s use of Nearchus’ account are those of Pearson (1960, 119–125) and Bosworth (1988a, 40–46). Cf. Stadter’s (1980, 118–131) insightful remarks.

4  Introduction histories of Alexander”9 by using the citations found in Arrian’s work were not interested in the latter’s style and compositional strategies. On the one hand, there were those, such as Hermann Strasburger in his monograph Ptolemaios und Alexander, who believed that there was no point in trying to seek signs or locate seeds of Aristobulus’ and Ptolemy’s style in Arrian’s way of writing. First, all we know about those authors stems from either Arrian or the works of others. Second, it is difficult to see whether they were quoted verbatim by him or not. Any stylistic approach would therefore be doomed to end where it would begin, namely at the text of Arrian.10 There have also been those who, in the belief that Arrian’s text reflects nothing but his sources, doubted even that the Anabasis is a result of its author’s own stylistic and ideological choices. In his book Die Alexandergeschichte des Königs Ptolemaios I. von Ägypten, Ernst Kornemann reexamined the relationship between the Anabasis and Ptolemy’s history of Alexander, basing his reconstruction on the presumption that Arrian’s work mirrors Ptolemy’s narrative even in Arrian’s most personal moments, such as the authorial comments.11 Similar views can be traced even four decades after Kornemann. For Peter A. Brunt, the Anabasis is marked by its author’s ‘absence’ at all levels. There Arrian is seen as a spiritless compiler, who, in the process of writing, left aside his personal ideological background, lacked acumen, and did not proceed to undertake any literary embellishment of the stories found in his sources: How far he was permanently influenced by Stoicism must be doubted; I can detect no Stoic coloring in the Anabasis. […] Nor can it in my view be maintained that Arrian contributes much, if anything, of his own that is important to understanding Alexander. His merit was to have unearthed better accounts than were current in his day, and to have followed them without the embellishments of a Curtius, but just as his style is less brilliant than that of Curtius, so his own judgment is more naïve. He was a simple, honest soul, but no historian.12

Views such as those of Kornemann and Brunt undoubtedly overlook both Arrian’s literary range as well as the text of the Anabasis itself. Arrian, the man whom Lucian (Alex. 2) described as “a life-long devotee of letters”13 and whom Photius (Bibl. cod. 92: 72b40) called an author “second to none of those who composed histories excellently”, was in a position to demonstrate a rich agenda of

 9 This is the title of Pearson’s (1960) study on Alexander’s first historians. 10 Strasburger 1934, 12. 11 Kornemann 1935, 27. 12 Brunt 1976, x and xxxiv. 13 Harmon’s (1925, 177) translation.

Introduction  5

literary works both before and after writing the Anabasis. In the early years of his life, which were spent in Nicopolis of Epirus, he had kept notes of his teacher Epictetus’ doctrines, which were later on published in two works, the Discourses of Epictetus (Diatribae) and the Manual (Encheiridion). During his legateship in Cappadocia and on the occasion of a circumnavigation of the Black Sea, he wrote his report in Latin and sent it to Hadrian. In addition to this, he also composed a refined version of this report in Greek (Periplus Ponti Euxini) and gifted it to the Emperor. He also wrote a historical work on the battle formation of the Roman phalanxes under his command against the Alani (Battle Formation against the Alani) and a military handbook (Essay on Tactics). He also emulated Xenophon in writing a handbook on hunting (Cynegeticus), while his Indikē is an exhibition of his clear acquaintance with the Herodotean Ionic dialect.14 Last, the Anabasis of Alexander itself, alongside the biographies of another two individuals, Dion and Timoleon, was partly a preparatory phase for Arrian, during which he would bring his style to perfection in order to compose the history of his homeland, the Bithyniaca (Phot. Bibl. cod. 93: 73b11–15 = F1).15 In the Second Preface of the Anabasis, Arrian recapitulates his rich literary activity in his statement that “country, family, and offices I find and have found from my youth in these tales”.16 This is the reason why, he boasts, he did not consider himself “unworthy to make Alexander’s deeds known to men”, given that he is “not unworthy of the masters of Greek speech” (1.12.5). In this way Arrian reveals to the reader that, when he implied at the outset that his work will excel, he was referring not only to the reliability of his account, but also importantly to its literary supremacy. Arrian, as a man of letters, identified both by others and by himself as the ‘New Xenophon’, could have hardly deigned to invite the demanding readership of the Second Sophistic to assess the literary virtues of his Anabasis, had he composed it by merely ‘copying and pasting’ scenes from his sources without embellishing them.17

 14 Brunt 1976, xiv; HCA I, 35. 15 Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1235. On Arrian’s life and literary development see Schwartz RE II, 1, cols. 1230–1236; Hartmann 1907; Wirth 1964; Bosworth 1972 and for further bibliography up to his time see 163 nn. 1 and 4; Brunt 1976, xix–xxiv; Wheeler 1977; Stadter 1980, 1–18; Syme 1982; Vidal-Naquet 1984; Bosworth 1988a, 16–37, especially on Arrian’s historical production; Tonnet 1988, 1–101; Swain 1996, 242–248; AAA I, XI–XIX. 16 This passage has repeatedly been the object of dispute. Some posit that in the phrase “these tales” Arrian means to refer exclusively to the Anabasis, while others take him to mean his whole literary production up until that time. I consider the second view more likely for reasons which I discuss in Chapter IV, p. 181 n. 56. 17 Cf. Bosworth 1988a, 14 and 40.

6  Introduction Of course, the skepticism mentioned above concerning the Anabasis’ literary and ideological merits never represented the communis opinio. For the majority of scholars, the choice between Arrian as an ‘Exzerptor oder Referent” was always a pseudo-dilemma.18 From the very beginning of the studies of Arrian, his compositional skills and personal style were generally admitted.19 Rather, the absence of literary studies on the Anabasis should be attributed to the fact that scholarly interest had for a long time been focused on the issue of the Anabasis’ sources. Nor did anyone ever take into serious consideration thoughts such as those expressed by Brunt on Arrian’s Atticism, namely that “his works illustrate how derivative were its ideas and literary forms.”20 Long before Brunt, and since the end of the 19th century, Meyer, Doulcet, Grundmann, and Boehner’s meticulous studies had already shown the other side of the picture, namely the dexterity with which Arrian imitated his literary models from the Classical era (Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon).21 Nonetheless, these studies could naturally offer no solid answer about whether and how Arrian distanced his account from the interpretive scope of his sources and how this distancing – where there was any – took shape through certain narrative techniques. Such answers could be addressed more effectively by narrative-analysis treatises, which were however only to come many years later. Indeed, the narrative arrangement of the Anabasis was first examined as late as 1965 by Hugo Montgomery. Montgomery’s work marked the beginning of a new era for the studies of Arrian’s work, in that the last chapter of his study Gedanke und Tat zur Erzählungstechnik bei Herodot, Thukydides, Xenophon und Arrian inaugurated a shift in scholarly interest towards Arrian’s narrative techniques. Montgomery examined those passages in the Anabasis where Arrian analyzes Alexander’s inner world (e.g. his decisions, wills and desires), and the role of these passages in the representation and interpretation of the events.22 Fifteen years later, Philip Stadter published his monograph on Arrian’s life and works. His chapter on the Anabasis constitutes a pioneering literary approach of Arrian’s

 18 This phrase for this issue was coined by Strasburger (1934, 12–13). 19 Schwartz RE II, 1, cols. 1238–1239; Strasburger 1934, 12. 20 Brunt 1976, xiii–xiv. Bogdan Burliga (2013) offers a successful challenge to Brunt’s view. 21 The outcomes of these studies have exercised great influence over modern scholarship, with their most representative descendant being Henri Tonnet’s book Recherches sur Arrien. Sa personnalité et ses écrits atticistes in 1988. Bosworth (HCA I, 34–38 and, generally, throughout the two volumes of his commentary) is equally influenced by these studies and especially by Grundmann’s. Cf. Stadter 1981, 157ff. See, contra, Floristán Imízcoz 1994 and 1995. 22 Montgomery 1965, 162–233.

Introduction  7

account. Apart from touching on the traditional issue of the sources, Stadter offers an overall book-by-book presentation of the work’s narrative arrangement. He also elaborates on certain techniques through which Arrian delineates Alexander’s portrait.23 Equally significant in this respect is Bosworth’s book From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation, whose “focus is the literary techniques and historical method”.24 Combining skillful historical research, source-criticism, and literary analysis, Bosworth’s study has contributed significantly to the understanding of Arrian’s art of conflating his sources (e.g. in terms of imagery, speeches, stylistic alterations, excisions, and the handling of the events’ order).25 These works, alongside with Hidber’s papers on narratorial interventions and time,26 constitute the main bulk of existent narrative studies on Arrian’s Anabasis of Alexander. All these studies are either short papers or chapters in books. As a result of this, the only autonomous monographs we essentially possess on the Anabasis of Alexander are those of Bosworth, Tonnet, and Burliga, of which only the first, and only in some of its parts, can be considered to touch upon narrative issues. In 1980, Bosworth wrote in his introduction to the first volume of his commentary on Arrian:27 The tendency of modern historians is to regard Arrian as a direct reflecting mirror of Ptolemy and his own characteristics as historian and stylist have been relegated to the background – or, more often, ignored altogether. A corrective is both salutary and urgently needed.

Considering that almost four decades after Bosworth’s invitation we still lack a monograph devoted to Arrian’s narrative skills, his words still re-echo as a voice crying out in the wilderness. In 2015, Sabine Müller, in her review of Bogdan Burliga’s book, again draws our attention to this desideratum in Arrian scholarship within the context of ancient historical writing:28 Monographien zum kaiserzeitlichen Schriftsteller Arrian, einem der bekanntesten Autoren der Zweiten Sophistik, sind Mangelware. […] Zu Arrians berühmtestem Werk, der Anabasis Alexandrou, ist From Arrian to Alexander von Brian Bosworth aus dem Jahr 1988 einschlägig.

 23 Stadter 1980, 60–114. 24 Bosworth 1988a, v. 25 Bosworth 1988a, 38–156. 26 Hidber 2004 and 2007. 27 HCA I, 20. 28 Müller 2015, clvii.

8  Introduction In this book, I thus aspire to offer a narrative analysis of Arrian’s history of Alexander, which will shed light on certain aspects of Arrian’s way of writing. Given that Arrian’s innovativeness in the Anabasis has been repeatedly questioned, I will endeavor to shed new light on the ways in which Arrian contributed to the literary production of Alexander, importantly in terms of both style and interpretation. We need only read the first thirty pages of the work – from the First Preface up to the Second – in order to understand Arrian’s compositional strategies and scope.29 The Anabasis begins with the First Preface, in which, as we have already said, Arrian generously reveals to us his principal sources and the criteria by which he assessed the validity of his material. The next eleven chapters are dedicated to Alexander’s operations in Europe. There we read of the Macedonian army’s march from Amphipolis to the Danube and back again to Thebes, as well as the battles against the Thracians, the Triballi, and Clitus, and the destruction of Thebes. Thereafter, Arrian focuses on the main subject of his account, the campaign in Asia. He begins with Alexander’s visit to Troy and, on the occasion of the king’s offering to Achilles’ tomb, composes a second prologue, which is supplementary to the first. In this Second Preface Arrian stresses the literary value of his work, extolling his own education and writing skills. Furthermore, he claims that his account aims to restore an injustice: although poets and prose writers have glorified the feats of men much inferior to Alexander, his own deeds have not been praised as they truly deserve to be. Arrian thus aspires to satisfy Alexander’s wish to have his own Homer. After reading these opening pages, we are ready to accompany Alexander through his journey in Asia, having a full picture of the nature of the text in our hands. To pick out three features of this text: (a) it is a military narrative that follows the march of the Macedonian army from place to place; (b) it has a laudatory character; and (c) its author wishes to become Alexander’s Homer. However, in this last goal, Arrian also aims to keep the balance between his intention to praise his hero and his need to pay particular attention to the critical use of his sources. These features of the work, although having repeatedly been noticed by modern scholarship, have not been analyzed in detail. In this book I thus aim to cover specific parts of this scholarly gap, focusing on the following aspects of Arrian’s modus narrandi:

 29 Stadter 1981, 157–164.

Introduction  9

(a) Arrian’s criticism of Alexander in the Anabasis, namely the narrative techniques through which Arrian shares with the reader his disapproval of certain aspects of Alexander’s character in the process of composing his account (Chapter I); (b) reports of the account that can be defined as “march-narratives” (Chapter II); (c) time (Chapter III); and (d) the Homeric aspects of the work (Chapter IV). Chapter I focuses on the nature of the laudatory element in Arrian’s narrative. It is commonly admitted that the plot development in the military descriptions foregrounds Alexander’s dexterities. Accounts in which Alexander lays out and implements a plan highlight his cleverness and insight, while also inviting us to admire his bravery. Furthermore, another basic pattern of the work concerns the chapters that repeatedly emphasize the king’s wise administrative decisions. In general, Alexander’s intellectual skills, and particularly his dexterity in the conduct of war, are a basic thematic axis of the work. Although modern scholarship has focused on the narrative techniques through which Arrian draws our attention to these intellectual qualities of his hero,30 the various means by which he delineates the king’s moral values have been relatively neglected. It is thus of great interest to examine how the plot development contributes to the evaluation of Alexander’s system of moral values. Scholars admit that, although Arrian admired Alexander as a general and fighter, his account, especially from a certain point onwards, has a more intense moralizing, critical tone. However, this view has been based mostly on the authorial comments on Alexander’s mistakes and flaws, such as his immoderate temperament, his imperialistic greed and his hubristic overestimation of his own abilities. In the first chapter, inspired by the focus of Montgomery and Burliga on Arrian’s critical attitude towards Alexander, I examine how the narrative arrangement reflects Alexander’s character both in interaction with, as well as independently of, these negative comments. My main conclusion will be that, although on an intellectual level the author’s admiration for his hero stays undiminished throughout the work, on a moral level the plot unfolds as a route from praise (first three books) to criticism (last four books). Chapter II follows up the main argument of Chapter I. In particular it will be argued that the construction of Alexander’s dynamic portrait develops in extensive ‘march-narratives’ as well. The term ‘march-narrative’ was coined by Philip

 30 Montgomery 1965, 162–201; Stadter 1980, 89–103; Miltsios 2018.

10  Introduction Stadter to describe the nature of the narration in the Anabasis. Indeed, the storyline regularly follows Alexander’s march from station to station, with its typical parts being visits and stays at cities, administrative decisions taken during these stations, Alexander’s meetings with ambassadors and other individuals, as well as geographical and ethnological digressions. Scholarly interest has repeatedly focused on Arrian’s depiction of Alexander in military descriptions (battles, sieges), the authorial comments, the timeless evaluative digressions, and the speeches. In contrast with these elements, the segments of the account that develop as pure march-narratives have been neglected in this respect. Often it is noted simply that one overriding characteristic of them relates to the fast pace and constant movement of the army. These sections have been considered parts, in which Arrian, passively following a routine recordkeeping source, was compositionally less creative in comparison with other units of his account. This section of the book questions this view, by aiming to shed light on the contribution of such passages of the Anabasis to the characterization of Alexander. Our test-case is the narrative section on the period from Alexander’s pursuit of Darius, after the battle of Gaugamela, until the capture of Bessus (3.19–30). Specifically, it will be argued that, in this extensive march-narrative, Arrian was equally cautious in choosing and transforming data of a seemingly neutral value into integral parts of rhetorical macrostructures that mirror Alexander’s inner world. What is more, I hope to demonstrate that Arrian shaped his march-narratives in such a way that they contribute the most to the transition from pure praise to a more critical attitude towards the king’s choices. In Chapter III, I show how the characterization of Alexander manifests itself on one further narrative level, the arrangement of narrative time. I will focus on five types of anachrony, or temporal displacement, discernible in the Anabasis: (i) anachronies that cover the gaps generated by the individual-focused narrative; (ii) the atemporal collections of episodes; (iii) emphatic anachronies beyond the atemporal collections of episodes; (iv) anachronies in the treason episodes; and (v) the two pivotal analepses on the Macedonians’ opposition towards Alexander’s decisions. The linear narration concerns those temporal aspects which buttress Arrian’s choice to narrate the events in a rectilinear march-narrative. By a rectilinear march-narrative, I intend to refer to those accounts that follow the Macedonian army’s route from place to place and in a chronological order, with Alexander being the focal point of interest. On the other hand, Arrian often disrupts the linearity of his account in order to emphasize certain aspects of Alexander’s character. Most importantly, as will be argued in this chapter, the element of ‘atemporality’ (i.e. in this case the disruption of the linear narrative flow) has a central role in the construction of Arrian’s dynamic portrait of Alexander.

Introduction  11

Chapter IV elaborates on the Homeric coloring of the narrative in the Anabasis. Given that the relationship of a Greek historiographer in the Imperial era with Homeric poetry manifests itself on multiple levels, some preliminary remarks on the aspects of the epic character of the work that will be examined in this chapter would be useful here. To begin with, the epic nature of Classical historiography, of which genre the Anabasis is an example, has been pointed out not only by ancient literary theorists but also by modern scholarship. It is today common knowledge that in the Homeric epics we meet for the first time elements that were later consolidated as distinctive features of Classical historiography. In Homer we can discern the first signs of the Greeks’ interest in the past and their need to preserve it for future generations (κλέος). The Iliad and the Odyssey reflect the first steps of the Greeks’ historical consciousness, namely their efforts to understand the past and thereby interpret their present and future. We may also trace in them seeds of genres closely related to ancient historiography, such as genealogy, geography, and ethnography. Other scholars have also examined the links between Homeric epics and ancient historiography from a literary point of view. They have tended to focus on the narrative schemes (e.g. speeches, catalogues, arrangement of narrative time, and internal focalization) and the vocabulary which ancient historiographers drew from Homer.31 The Homeric world entered the narrative of the Anabasis through the tradition of Alexander too. Indeed it is exactly this aspect of the Homeric coloring of the Anabasis that will be the object of our examination. His mother’s Molossian origins gave Alexander the opportunity to boast that he descended from both sides of the Trojan War, the Greeks and the Trojans. According to the myth, after the war Achilles’ son Neoptolemus enslaved Andromache, Hector’s wife, went to northwestern Greece, and became the king of Epirus. He had a son with Andromache, who was named Molossus, and who duly became the eponymous founder of the Molossians. Both Neoptolemus and Andromache were thus claimed as the ancestors of Olympias, Alexander’s mother. Seeds of this post-Iliadic genealogy were also implanted in Alexander’s value system by his teachers Lysimachus and Aristotle. Lysimachus of Acarnania flattered Alexander by calling himself Phoenix, Achilles’ pedagogue. Alexander would thus take the role of Achilles, and  31 For ancient views on the relationship between Thucydides and Homer see Grossi 2016. On Homer and historiography see collectively the most general and seminal studies of Strasburger 1972 (scope) and Rengakos 2006 (narrative techniques). On Homer and Herodotus see collectively Armayor 1977–78; Hollmann 2000; Bakker 2002; Boedeker 2002; Pelling 2006; Kim 2010; Wesselmann 2011; Grethlein 2012; Marincola 2018. For bibliography on Homer and Thucydides see Liotsakis 2017, 15–16 n. 56. On Homer and Xenophon see Howie 1996; Tsagalis 2002; Yamagata 2012.

12  Introduction Philip the role of Peleus. We also read that Aristotle had prepared an edition of the Iliad for Alexander, who always carried it with him during the expedition in Asia. Already before the expedition in Asia, Alexander’s admiration for the Homeric world must have been known even to his enemies all over Greece. As one piece of valuable evidence for this, the Athenian orator Demosthenes mocked him by calling him Margites.32 Alexander used his love of the epic heroes as a means of embellishing his personal aspirations and imperialistic aims. He encouraged his first historians to portray him as the new Achilles,33 or generally as the Homeric hero whose deeds and words emerge as a compilation of several epic features (bravery in battle, love for glory, companionship, etc.).34 To judge from the abundance of passages in both the surviving sources (Diodorus, Curtius, Plutarch, and Arrian) and the fragments of several lost works, we may legitimately conclude that such biographical information concerning the king’s admiration and emulation of Homeric heroes was a common practice in the historiographical tradition of Alexander. In most of these works one may also find Homeric language and epic battle descriptions together with the aristeia of Alexander or of others. Moreover, the king is also very often presented as mentioning specific Iliadic verses or as paraphrasing or uttering the exact words of Homeric heroes. This embellishing ‘weaponry’ is traceable in a vast range of earlier historians, such as the flatterer Callisthenes of Olynthus or Onesicritus, Hegesias of Magnesia, Menaechmus of Sicyon, as well as Arrian’s principal sources Aristobulus and Ptolemy. We may presume that it was transmitted by them to later historians of Alexander.35 These  32 On Alexander’s Molossian descent, see D.S. 17.1.5; Str. 13.1.27, p. 594C.26–29 (ed. Radt); Paus. 1.11.1; Plu. Alex. 2.1. On Lysimachus, Aristotle and his special edition of the Iliad see Plu. Alex. 5.8 and 8.2; Str. ibid. = Callisthenes FGrH 124 T10; Alexander Romance, rec. ε (ed. Trumpf) 3.5; Onesicritus, FGrH 134 F38. Since Margites was considered to be the caricature of Achilles, Demosthenes must have mocked Alexander (Harp. μ 6 Keaney (s.v. Μαργίτης) = Aeschin. In Ctesiph. 160 = FGrH 135 F3) for his admiration of Achilles, meaning that the young king would never manage to reach the Homeric hero’s glory (Adams 19885, 432 n. 2). See, contra, Weidner’s (1878, 154) unconvincing view that Demosthenes’ irony targets Alexander’s inferiority not to Achilles but to Philip. 33 On Alexander as the ‘new Achilles’, see Tarn 1948 II, 57; Edmunds 1971, 369–376 and 383; Hölscher 1971, 25–27; Brunt 1976, 464–466; Bosworth 1988b, 19–20 and 281–283; Ameling 1988; Mossman 1992; Stewart 1993, 78–86; Cohen 1995; Baynham 2001; Koulakiotis 2006, 204–207. 34 For further ancient sources testifying to this view and for further discussion on this subject see Erskine 2001, 49 n. 13 and 229–232. 35 FGrH 124 F25, F28, F31, F32, F35; FGrH 138 F11, F18 = Arr. An. 4.24.3–5 on Ptolemy’s aristeia; the epic elements in the military narrative of Hegesias of Magnesia (FGrH 142 F5); Plu. Alex. 15.8– 9 on Alexander’s admiration of Achilles’ friendships and glory; Curt. 4.6.29, where Alexander

Introduction  13

first historical sources and some of the later ones constituted the main bulk from which Arrian drew information for his own account.36 Given that from the outset Arrian admits that he intended to praise Alexander as Homer did Achilles, it is worth examining the ways in which Arrian took advantage of the Homerisms of previous accounts, including whether he transformed them or even rejected them. The book ends with the General Conclusions, where I address the issue of the originality of Arrian’s style and judgment of Alexander. My main argument will be that, in light of Arrian’s narrative techniques in the Anabasis and his political career in Rome, his portrait of Alexander should be seen as something much more than the result of Arrian’s naïve or blind trust in his sources.

 drags Betis’ body with his chariot as Achilles did Hector’s body (Il. 22.395ff.); Curt. 8.4.26, for a parallel between Alexander’s relationship with Rhoxane and Achilles’ with Brisēis. For further parallels, see Chapter IV, especially pp. 216–225. 36 See Brunt 1976; Hammond 1993. On the theory that there were two source traditions (the one stemming from Cleitarchus – as is discernible in Diodorus and Curtius Rufus – the so-called ‘vulgate’, and an ‘Arrianic-Plutarchan’), see Kaerst 1887, 3; Schwartz RE IV, 2, col. 1877; Rüegg 1906, 7, 13, 112; FGrH, IIB, Komm., 485; Strasburger 1934, 6.

 Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism The bias towards encomium explains much of Arrian’s work. It is basically a narrative of achievement, with a favorable verdict built into the texture of the narrative […]. It also explains the comparative dearth of moral comment. Arrian’s verdict was presupposed, and the main function of his comments was to mitigate the criticisms traditionally levelled at the figure of Alexander. He could therefore devote himself to the composition of a laudatory account of Alexander’s res gestae and concentrate on the stylistic presentation.1

No one can deny that the Anabasis of Alexander is “a laudatory account of Alexander’s res gestae”. The key question, however, is in what the dynamics of this praise consist. In this respect, Brian Bosworth’s assumption that Arrian aimed mainly to “mitigate the criticisms” towards Alexander is misleading. We should not forget that the Anabasis also contains pejorative comments and narrative segments that do not mitigate the criticism but, on the contrary, mitigate the encomiastic coloring of the work. This issue calls for further examination, especially since Bosworth is not the only scholar to focus mainly on the laudatory aspects of the work. J. Rufus Fears concludes that “for Arrian [...] Alexander was far more than the great general and conqueror. Handsome, courageous, pious, temperate, honorable in his relations with other men.”2 This view fails to offer an overall evaluation of Arrian’s narrative portrait of Alexander, because it overlooks those passages where Arrian highlights Alexander’s impiety and immoderation. Similarly, for Peter A. Brunt, Arrian’s account is an effort to present Alexander’s successes as the result of his genius.3 Philip Stadter also agrees with Bosworth’s view quoted above,4 while Bogdan Burliga, though recognizing that criticism lies mainly in the pejorative comments of the work and especially from Book IV onwards, concludes that the narrative itself is pure praise.5 Indeed, in the first three books of the Anabasis of Alexander, the narrative mostly aims at praising Alexander on all possible levels, the only negative comment being that οn Alexander’s decision to burn the royal palace in Persepolis

 1 HCA I, 15–16. 2 Fears 1974, 122–123. 3 Brunt 1977, 36–44. 4 Stadter 1980, 89–114. 5 Burliga 2013, 7–13. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-002

Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism  15

(3.18.12).6 Similarly, apart from the digression in ch. 4.8–14 and the opening chapters of Book VII, Books IV–VII are equally lacking in any explicit authorial statement on the king’s immoderation, and it is this that gives rise to the views mentioned above that the narrative follows its own, independent, laudatory path. Nonetheless, an objection to this assumption can be made by asking the following question: Do the few negative comments in Books IV and VII not have any role at all in the narrative arrangement of the Anabasis of Alexander and thus the way the reader perceives the narrated events? In response to this question, it has rightly been argued that there is a connection between the laudatory narrative and those parts of the Anabasis where Arrian discusses the traditional complaints against Alexander. According to this view, the laudatory narration in the Anabasis is Arrian’s implicit contemptuous answer to contemporary criticism of Alexander. Whoever accomplishes such significant feats deserves to be the subject of a historical, encomiastic work, despite his moral misdeeds, for two reasons: first, because such deeds are worth praising, and, second, it is reasonable that whoever has experienced such fortune at such a young age, as Alexander did, overestimates his power over men and life.7 However, it should be noted that in his discussion of the criticism of Alexander in Books IV and VII Arrian did not merely raise the encircling contemporary debate on Alexander in order to oppose it with his narration; in fact he also agreed with Alexander’s accusers on certain matters and shared with his readers his own criticism towards Alexander. Thus, if we accept that Arrian aimed with his narrative exclusively to refute the criticisms against Alexander, then we must also believe that the Anabasis is perhaps the sole work of classical historiography in which the account remains disassociated from or, still worse, stands in sharp contrast to the author’s own moral judgments. Needless to say, such a conclusion would misleadingly present Arrian as naïvely believing that his account could be taken by readers as praise which is completely divorced from his own pejorative comments. On the contrary, Arrian was well aware of the capacity of historical accounts to provide their own moral judgment, not only independently from the comments the author made but also by

 6 The episode recounting Alexander’s meeting with the Celts (1.4.6–8) seems to have a negative tone towards Alexander’s vanity (HCA I, 64), but by no means amounts to an explicit criticism. Arrian also attempts to stress the Celts’ admiration for Alexander, though perhaps he changes the original anecdote. Cf. Strabo’s different version (7.3.8, p. 301C.29–302C.7), which led Pearson (1960, 184 n. 176) to the conclusion that Arrian improvised here. Cf. AAA I, 317. 7 Stadter 1980, 114; Burliga 2013.

16  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism being in constant interaction with them.8 It is very common in classical historiography that a sole moralizing comment shapes the way in which we read the ensuing events or retrospectively leads us to re-consider what precedes it. The ancient historians always aimed for their moralizing and evaluative comments to serve as meta-narrative instructions on how we should read their works.9 To believe that Arrian, as a historiographer, tried to keep his narrative separate from his pejorative comments would be simply bizarre. Apart from their personal comments, Greek and Roman historiographers also had at their disposal an abundance of compositional schemes, through which they endeavored to lead their audience and readership to moral or intellectual evaluations of the protagonists. As just some examples of such techniques, historiographers could penetrate into the motives and emotions of an individual in a speech, which itself associates with another speech or with the deeds of the speaker or of others, and thereby excite the reader’s emotional involvement. In this way they aimed to convey certain impressions not only of the intellectual skills but also of the ethical qualities of an individual, a people, or a city.10 Similarly, as we will see in the following pages, these techniques, as well as several others, construct Arrian’s critical verdict of Alexander’s morality. In this chapter, it will be demonstrated that the narrative of the Anabasis is much more than “a laudatory account of Alexander’s res gestae” and that it also reflects the criticisms towards Alexander as are expressed in Arrian’s negative comments. Philip Stadter, although admitting that the “moral tone […] present

 8 The literature on this topic is vast. See collectively on Herodotus Lang 1987; Fisher 2002; on Thucydides, see Finley 1968; on Strabo, Diodorus and other historians of the Hellenistic and Roman ages, see Brunt 1977, 32–35; and on Polybius, see Eckstein 1995. Hau’s (2016) recent book is the most comprehensive and systematic study yet on moralizing techniques in ancient Greek historiography, both in terms of the way she categorizes certain techniques and in terms of the range of historians she covers (Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, the fragmentary Classical and Hellenistic historiography, Polybius, and Diodorus Siculus). Adkins’ (1960) excellent study is still of great help for those studying the use of moral epithets in Herodotus and Thucydides, even if these authors are peripheral to his study. 9 On the term ‘meta-narrative instructions’ for the comments in Thucydides, see Liotsakis 2017, 49, 90, 120–132, 169. On the evaluative function of the comments in historiography, see Stahl 2013, 311. 10 See Hau’s (2016, 7–13) systematic presentation in the Introduction to her book. For each of these techniques, see separately: (a) motivation: Baragwanath 2008 in Herodotus; Romilly 1956, Hunter 1973, and Tamiolaki 2013 in Thucydides; and (b) emotions: Marincola 2003; Miltsios 2009; Pelling 2009; Liotsakis 2016, 89–90, 93 in Thucydides; Foulon 2008 and Farrington 2016 in Polybius; Baumann 2016 in Diodorus of Sicily.

Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism  17

throughout the Anabasis is particularly strong in the fourth and seventh books”,11 chose to analyze only the encomiastic parts of Arrian’s narrative. Bogdan Burliga brilliantly demonstrated that the Anabasis is marked by a pessimistic tone in the way Arrian’s presents Alexander. However, as mentioned above, Burliga seeks this dark coloring mainly in Arrian’s authorial comments in Book IV, leaving aside the contribution of the narrative itself. Hugo Montgomery has successfully demonstrated that the Anabasis turns gradually from praise to criticism, since, as the plot unfolds, the motives attributed by Arrian to Alexander are increasingly colored with a negative hue.12 Given that Montgomery focused only on the technique of penetrating the protagonists’ motivations, in this chapter we will argue that we can discern in the war narrative of the Anabasis some further parts and techniques of the narrative, which go beyond the limitations of praise and which also bear Arrian’s moral criticism of Alexander as expressed in the digression of ch. 4.8–14 and in Book VII. Specifically, in support of Montgomery’s, Stadter’s and Burliga’s remarks, we will collect and analyze those passages of the military account that suggest that: (a) the narrative plays a greater moralizing role than has traditionally been appreciated; and (b) although it mainly aims to praise Alexander’s military dexterities, this stretch of the historical narrative also reflects Arrian’s effort to stress Alexander’s arrogance. We will also describe the ways in which Arrian associated the war narrative of Books IV–VI with his comments in Books IV and VII. Books I–III will be included in this examination in order to demonstrate that Arrian wished to offer two portraits of Alexander. The first is a thoroughly favorable portrait and is outlined in the first three books, while the second is more critical and unfolds in Books IV–VII. It will also be argued that by placing an extensive digression on Alexander’s defects in the middle of the work (almost at the beginning of Book IV) Arrian intended to divide his work into two parts and thereby render this structural division a strong marker of the contrast between the two ‘faces’ of Alexander.13 Our main goal is thus to show that the historical narrative is far from merely a laus and that it instead participates prominently in  11 Stadter 1980, 82. Cf. Burliga 2013, 109–110. 12 See Montgomery 1965, 162–233. 13 Bosworth (HCA II, 45) and Stadter (1980, 83) have noticed that there is a purpose to Arrian’s digression at this point, although without offering the explanation that is proposed in this chapter. Hammond’s (1971, 387) thoughts on the meaning of the events of the digression are illuminating: “These actions required explanation because they showed a new (my italics) dimension of Alexander’s character”. Arrian noticed that these events marked a change in Alexander’s morality and for this reason he put them in the middle of his narrative, in order to stress the difference between the two phases of Alexander’s character.

18  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism the negative evaluation of Alexander’s morality, as inaugurated by the digression of ch. 4.8–14. We will first examine the central digression of ch. 4.8–14 in order to show that its main function is to introduce to the reader the negative effects that Alexander’s military achievements had on his character. We will then explore how Arrian’s overwhelmingly positive stance towards Alexander gradually becomes more critical in the very act of narrating. This is achieved mainly in the siege descriptions and in the way Arrian presents the peoples encountered by Alexander. In order to make this case, we will opt to follow the narrative thread of the work twice, first from the perspective of the siege descriptions and, second, with regard to how Arrian delineates Alexander’s enemies.

. The pivotal digression (4.8–14): res gestae and arrogance In ch. 4.7.1–3, Arrian focuses on the council summoned by Alexander that was to decide Bessus’ fate. The Macedonian king wanted the satrap of Sogdiana, murderer of Darius and pretender to the Persian throne, to be punished, in order to send a loud message to all those who did not recognize his rule over Persia. For this reason, he ordered that Bessus’ ears and nose be cut off and that he be driven to Ecbatana in order to be executed. Arrian pays no attention to Alexander’s political expediency on this occasion. Instead, he idealizes Alexander’s motives by presenting him as acting out of sympathy for Darius and his own need to punish the traitor for this injustice against his king.14 Nonetheless, Arrian considers the mutilation of Bessus as barbaric and expresses his criticism towards Alexander’s general keenness to embrace the Persian royal agenda. Arrian reaches the general conclusion that Alexander’s barbaric arrogance should be taken as further proof of the eternal truth that nothing, not even royal origins nor perfect physical condition nor extraordinary military achievements, can bring happiness to someone, if he does not act with moderation (4.7.4–5). This instance of Alexander’s career gave Arrian the opportunity to undertake an extensive digression, in which he gathers three test-cases that imply the king’s arrogance: the murder of Clitus; Callisthenes’ acrimonious criticism of Alexander’s proskynesis; and the conspiracy of the pages, which led to their arrest and death along with that of Callisthenes. To begin with Clitus’ death, during a symposium in honor of the Dioscuri, some fellow-diners were flattering Alexander by claiming that both the Dioscuri’s feats as well as those of Heracles and Philip were  14 See Chapter II, pp. 100–118.

The pivotal digression (4.8–14): res gestae and arrogance  19

far inferior to his own achievements. Clitus, who had always opposed Alexander’s embrace of eastern customs, began to attack Alexander while under the influence of wine, arguing that such boasts were hubristic towards the gods, an insult to Philip, and did not reflect the truth. At the height of his outburst, Clitus raised his right hand and shouted at Alexander that this was the hand that had saved him in the battle of the Granicus (cf. 1.15.8). Eventually, Alexander, unable to control his anger and also drunk, took a spear and killed Clitus (4.8.1–9.6). After making some comments that excuse Alexander and lay the blame on Clitus, Arrian mentions that a flatterer of Alexander, the philosopher Anaxarchus of Abdera, observing how disconsolate the king was after his action, comforted him by saying that whatever a king does is just (4.9.7–9). In this way, Arrian moves on to the second story of the digression, that of Callisthenes. Callisthenes opposed those flatteries which promoted the king’s megalomania, and was one of the main opponents of the king’s proskynesis. At a dinner, organized by Alexander in order to sound out the Macedonians and the Greeks on the issue of his proskynesis, Callisthenes gave a censorious speech of advice, whose content can be summarized as follows. Anaxarchus, as a philosopher and advisor to Alexander, should not encourage the king to adopt behavior that is hubristic towards the gods, since honors paid to the gods must always be distinguishable from those paid to men. Accordingly, Alexander, as a Macedonian and descendant of Heracles, must not adopt the barbaric custom of proskynesis, which is, after all, the most indicative marker of honoring a god. The Macedonians agreed with Callisthenes and Alexander thus had to compromise (4.10.1–12.7). After this story is found the conspiracy of the pages (4.13.1–14.4). Scholarly interest in the three episodes has focused mainly on the means by which Arrian attempts to embellish Alexander’s profile. Clitus is depicted as acting disrespectfully (4.8.5–7; 4.9.1); he is the one to blame for immoderate drinking (4.8.4; 4.8.6–7) and, according to Aristobulus, he caused his own death, given that he thoughtlessly called to Alexander at a moment when his compatriots were trying to hide him (4.8.9). Callisthenes is deemed as equally disrespectful, and the first thing we learn about his character is that he was boorish (4.10.1; 4.12.6). Furthermore, the anecdote of Callisthenes’ conversation with Philotas on the tyrannicides and Athens (4.10.3–4) implicitly justifies Alexander’s fears that Callisthenes was involved in the conspiracy of the pages. Last, in the account of the pages, the focus on the mysterious circumstances in which Alexander escapes the conspirators’ machinations stresses the divine favor he enjoys (4.13.5–6).15  15 For further discussion, see Brunt 1976, 532–544; Stadter 1980, 73–74; Hammond 1993, 241– 242; HCA II, 96–97; AAA II, 414–415.

20  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism As for Arrian’s aims in composing this digression, modern scholarship has pointed to the prominent motif of the Asiatic customs. In the Clitus episode, we are introduced to Alexander’s anger and love for drinking. In the case of Callisthenes, the lion’s share of the account is dedicated to the proskynesis issue. In the narrative of the pages, the hunting scene and that of Hermolaus’ whipping, Arrian touches upon Alexander’s cruelty and envy, while Hermolaus’ speech recapitulates all the defects mentioned in the digression. This thematic orientation has often led scholars to conclude that the target of Arrian’s criticism in the digression is the negative effects of the eastern customs on Alexander’s character.16 The apologetic coloring of the digression is indisputable. Nonetheless, certain objections may be made against the view that the criticism in those chapters focuses on the oriental customs. This reading cannot help us to comprehend the role of the digression in the overall narrative arrangement and meaning of the work. I say this not least because to concentrate only on the exempla gathered in the digression satisfies only one of the two levels of reading required for such digressions. Ch. 4.8–14 constitute a typical biographical digression, whose basic characteristics are its atemporality and exemplary function. It was a commonplace for ancient biographers to expound certain events, stories, or anecdotes not in chronological order but motivated by the fact that those stories exemplified in a highly effective way a feature of the character of the individual under examination. 17 Nonetheless, to examine these sample episodes on their own covers only the first level of their interpretation. It is equally significant to see, at a second level, what these examples aimed to prove as a whole. All the stories of the digression reflect Alexander’s lack of self-restraint and arrogance,18 which, in Arrian’s mind, was definitely not to be attributed to his adoption of oriental customs but to the negative effect of his military successes on his character. This view is supported both by the digression’s inner logic as well as by the way the narrative unfolds in Books IV–VII. To begin with the inner logic of the digression, the four cases of Bessus, Clitus, Callisthenes, and the pages do not aim to draw our attention to the corruptive influence of the Persian court on Alexander’s morality. These issues are seen by  16 Sisti (AAA II, 391) writes that Arrian composed these chapters “a demonstrare gli effetti sul carattere di Alessandro dell’adozione di costumi e comportamenti persiani”. Similarly, Bosworth (HCA II, 46) comments on Bessus’ fate in the following way: “For Arrian the mutilation is an example of the corrupting oriental tendencies at court and it leads directly to the assumption of Persian dress, one of the standard exempla of Alexander’s intemperance. The rest of the digression is an elaborate illustration of the theme.” 17 See Chapter III, pp. 125–143. 18 Cf. Stadter 1980, 104; Hammond 1993, 240; HCA II, 46.

The pivotal digression (4.8–14): res gestae and arrogance  21

Arrian merely as manifestations of Alexander’s arrogance. In his opinion, the true reason for Alexander’s megalomania is to be sought in his achievements in war (ἔργα), a view which is consistently emphasized across the whole unit. In his criticism towards the mutilation of Bessus and Alexander’s use of Persian royal dress, Arrian rounds off his thoughts with the following generalizing comment on the effect of Alexander’s great military res gestae upon his morality (4.7.5): […] τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου μεγάλα πράγματα ἐς τεκμηρίωσιν τίθεμαι ὡς οὔτε τὸ σῶμα ὅτῳ εἴη καρτερόν, οὔτε ὅστις γένει ἐπιφανής, οὔτε κατὰ πόλεμον εἰ δή τις διευτυχοίη ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ Ἀλέξανδρος, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Λιβύην τις πρὸς τῇ Ἀσίᾳ, καθάπερ οὖν ἐπενόει ἐκεῖνος, ἐκπεριπλεύσας κατάσχοι, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐπὶ τῇ Ἀσίᾳ τε καὶ Λιβύῃ τρίτην, τούτων πάντων οὐδέν τι ὄφελος ἐς εὐδαιμονίαν ἀνθρώπου, εἰ μὴ σωφρονεῖν ἐν ταὐτῷ ὑπάρχοι τούτῳ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ τῷ τὰ μεγάλα, ὡς δοκεῖ, πράγματα πράξαντι. […] I take it that nothing is clearer proof than Alexander’s great successes of the truth that neither bodily strength in anyone nor distinction of birth nor continuous good fortune in war, greater even than Alexander’s – no matter if a man were to sail out right round Libya as well as Asia and subdue them, as Alexander actually thought of doing, or were to make Europe, with Asia and Libya, a third part of his empire – that not one of all these things is any contribution to man’s happiness, unless the man whose achievements are apparently so great were to possess at the same time command of his own passions.

The emphasis placed here on the ἔργα is achieved by the ring composition τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου μεγάλα πράγματα … τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ τῷ τὰ μεγάλα πράγματα πράξαντι. Military successes lead to arrogance, which is exactly why one should approach them with moderation (cf. 7.29.1–30.2). It is on the basis of this judgment that Arrian links Bessus’ story with Clitus’ murder (οὐκ ἔξω τοῦ καιροῦ ἀφηγήσομαι) and not to Alexander’s embrace of oriental customs. The word καιροῦ refers to the subject of the digression introduced by the mutilation of Bessus. The focus is not merely upon lack of self-restraint but upon the fact that it stems from one’s military achievements. This more particularized form of immoderation dominates the Clitus episode as well. The plot unfolds through a twofold escalation. On the one hand, on a psychological level, we observe how Clitus gradually becomes increasingly disrespectful, so that Alexander’s outburst is eventually justified in the reader’s mind. But on the other hand, on a rational level, we have the escalation of Clitus’ debate with Alexander’s flatterers regarding the stance that Alexander should adopt towards his feats; he should neither compare himself with the gods nor underestimate and insult his father. In this debate, Arrian clearly agrees with Clitus, given that he explicitly scorns the flatterers of Alexander for disrespecting the gods (4.8.3–4) and insulting Philip (4.8.6):

22  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Flatterers [...] κατ’ οὐδὲν ἀξιοῦν συμβάλλειν Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τε καὶ τοῖς Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργοις τὸν Πολυδεύκην καὶ τὸν Κάστορα. (4.8.3) [...] there was no comparison between Castor and Pollux and Alexander and Alexander’s achievements.

Clitus [...] οὐκ ἐᾶν οὔτε ἐς τὸ θεῖον ὑβρίζειν, οὔτε [ἐς] τὰ τῶν πάλαι ἡρώων ἔργα ἐκφαυλίζοντας χάριν ταύτην ἄχαριν προστιθέναι Ἀλεξάνδρῳ […] οὔκουν μόνον καταπρᾶξαι αὐτά, ἀλλὰ τὸ πολὺ γὰρ μέρος Μακεδόνων εἶναι τὰ ἔργα. (4.8.4–5) [...] he would not let them show disrespect for the divine power, or belittle the deeds of the heroes of old, to do Alexander a favor that was none […] and Alexander had not achieved them by himself, but they were in great part Macedonian achievements.

Flatterers ὡς δὲ καὶ τῶν Φιλίππου τινὲς ἔργων, ὅτι οὐ μεγάλα οὐδὲ θαυμαστὰ Φιλίππῳ κατεπράχθη, οὐδεμιᾷ ξὺν δίκῃ ἐπεμνήσθησαν […]. (4.8.6) But when some even referred to Philip’s achievements, quite unjustly suggesting that his achievements were not great or remarkable […].

Clitus […] τὸν Κλεῖτον ἤδη οὐκέτι ἐν ἑαυτοῦ ὄντα πρεσβεύειν μὲν τὰ τοῦ Φιλίππου, καταβάλλειν δὲ Ἀλέξανδρόν τε καὶ τὰ τούτου ἔργα. (4.8.6) […] Clitus could no longer control himself but spoke up in favor of Philip’s achievements, making little of Alexander and his.

The military achievements (ἔργα), taken as the source of a monarch’s arrogance, are equally stressed in the most striking part of Callisthenes’ speech, the epilogue (4.11.9): εἰ δὲ ὑπὲρ Κύρου τοῦ Καμβύσου λέγεται πρῶτον προσκυνηθῆναι ἀνθρώπων Κῦρον καὶ ἐπὶ τῷδε ἐμμεῖναι Πέρσαις τε καὶ Μήδοις τήνδε τὴν ταπεινότητα, χρὴ ἐνθυμεῖσθαι ὅτι τὸν Κῦρον ἐκεῖνον Σκύθαι ἐσωφρόνισαν, πένητες ἄνδρες καὶ αὐτόνομοι, καὶ Δαρεῖον ἄλλοι αὖ Σκύθαι, καὶ Ξέρξην Ἀθηναῖοι καὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, καὶ Ἀρτοξέρξην Κλέαρχος καὶ Ξενοφῶν καὶ οἱ ξὺν τούτοις μύριοι, καὶ Δαρεῖον τοῦτον Ἀλέξανδρος μὴ προσκυνούμενος.

The pivotal digression (4.8–14): res gestae and arrogance  23

But if it is said of Cyrus son of Cambyses that he was the first of men to receive obeisance and that therefore this humiliation became traditional with Persians and Medes, you must remember that this very Cyrus was brought to his senses by Scythians, a people poor but free, Darius too by other Scythians, Xerxes by Athenians and Lacedaemonians, and Artaxerxes by Clearchus, Xenophon and their Ten Thousand, and Darius by Alexander here, who does not receive obeisance.

Callisthenes is here warning Alexander that if feats of war cause arrogance in a monarch, it is military failure as well which brings him down to earth. In the narrative on the conspiracy of the pages we do not have an immediate reference to Alexander’s vanity due to his military successes. Nonetheless, we do read about an issue closely related with it, namely Alexander’s love for preeminence in everything he undertakes. The source of all the negative developments (Hermolaus’ anger and his subsequent plotting) is Alexander’s immoderate competitiveness. During a hunt, Hermolaus was the first to kill a wild boar; Alexander, full of anger because he had failed to kill the animal himself, orders that Hermolaus be whipped and his horse be taken from him (4.13.1–2). This digression contributes to the coherence of the narrative in the last four books by generating a series of cross-references concerning not Alexander’s association with eastern customs but the negative effects of Alexander’s success on his morality. Clitus’ murder, the conspiracy of the pages, and its aftermath for them and Callisthenes are not discussed anywhere else in the work.19 Arrian is equally indifferent to the issue of the proskynesis.20 He does not mention it again, not even when he has the opportunity to do so; in the chapters on the Macedonians’ resentment against Alexander, which led to the mutiny at Opis, Arrian refers to the adoption of Persian dress and marital customs but not to the institution of the proskynesis (7.6.2–3; 7.8.2). Furthermore, although in the epilogue he returns to Alexander’s divinity, he touches only upon Alexander’s divine origins (7.29.3). To conclude this first section, the digression reveals the corrosive influence on Alexander’s character not of the oriental customs but of his own feats. All these narrated incidents (the stories of Bessus, Clitus, Callisthenes, the pages, and the proskynesis) are gathered in the digression in order to bring to the foreground the subject which really determines the narrative arrangement of the Anabasis, the gradual alteration of Alexander’s character due to his military successes (ἔργα). In what follows, we will present the passages in which this gradual alteration takes place as the plot unfolds.  19 Except a short clarification (4.22.2), which merely restores the disturbed linearity of the narration caused by the displacement of these events in the digression. 20 Cf. Bosworth 1988a, 118–119.

24  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism

. Alexander besieging cities .. ‘Saving’ Thebes, Halicarnassus, and Tarsus The first comprehensive siege description of the work is dedicated to the destruction of Thebes (1.7–9). In this siege Alexander killed all the male citizens he captured and enslaved the women and children, razing the entire city to the ground. However, Arrian, whether on purpose or having been misguided by a specific proMacedonian source (Ptolemy), offers an account in which the truth is totally distorted.21 Alexander’s rapid march to Thebes (1.7.4–5) is the sole element suggestive of his decisiveness.22 In what follows Alexander is presented as hesitant to destroy the city. He does not order the final attack, which is attributed to Perdiccas’ flippant initiative (1.8.1), and he determines to undertake neither the demolition of the city nor the execution and enslavement of its population. He assigns, instead, the crucial decision to the allies, while, on the contrary, he is concerned for Pindar’s house and relatives (1.9.9–10). Arrian mitigates the Macedonian aggressiveness not only through the idealistic depiction of Alexander but also by delineating an unfavorable portrait of his enemies, the Thebans.23 Furthermore,

 21 For historical evaluation, see the following: FGrH, IIB, Komm., 501; Berve 1929 II, 313; Strasburger 1934, 22; Tarn 1948 I, 7; Brown 1949, 236; Badian 1964a, 312–313; Montgomery 1965, 166– 167 and 167 n. 7; Errington 1969; Brunt 1976, 35 n. 1; Goukowsky 1978, 238 n. 344; HCA I, 79–90; Stadter 1980, 72–73; Roisman 1984, 374; Tóth 2007. 22 Alexander’s ability to cover great distances in a limited amount of time is a motif of the Anabasis. See Stadter 1981, 163 and 170 n. 10 on this technique in Book I alone: 1.1.5; 3.1; 4.5; 7.5; 7.7; 11.5. Cf. Hidber 2007, 186–187 and 187 n. 10, although I do not accept that all the examples he offers belong to this category. Τhe most characteristic occurrences of this scheme are the following: 1.4.3; 2.4.6; 2.5.6; 3.15.5; 3.17.2–5; 3.18.5–7; 3.18.10; 3.20.1–2; 3.21.1–3; 3.21.6; 3.21.9; 3.25.6– 7; 4.3.1; 4.6.4; 4.17.7; 5.22.3; 6.6.2. Alexander’s swiftness was a common topos in ancient literature in general. See, e.g., D.S. 17.4.5; 17.7.2; Curt. 5.5.3. On the critical significance of the Theban revolt for Alexander’s effort as a new king to prove his quality, see D.S. 17.2.1–3.6; Berve 1926, 231–239; Wilcken 1931, 64–67; Tarn 1948 I, 3–8; Lane Fox 2005, 102ff.; Jouanno 1993; AAA I, 321– 322; Poddighe 2009, 99–109 and, especially on Thebes’ role in these events, 107–109 with further bibliography in 107 n. 39; Heckel 2009a, 26–29; Worthington 2014, 121–135. 23 The instigators of the revolt are presented as demagogues (1.7.2), in the words of Brunt 1976, lv: “[…] on the pretence of freedom and of liberty of speech – time-honored and fine sounding words”. This phrase is rightly attributed by Bosworth (HCA I, 75) to Arrian, and cf. Roisman 1984, 375. On the other hand, the pro-Macedonian Thebans are described with the phrase οἱ μὲν τὰ βέλτιστα ἐς τὸ κοινὸν γιγνώσκοντες (1.7.11). Arrian’s presentation of the mentality of the Theban people (1.7.3: ὅπερ φιλεῖ ἐν τοῖς τοιοῖσδε) also reminds us of Thucydides’ pejorative statements on the masses (Brunt 1976, 31 n. 2; AAA I, 323). Last, through an extensive polysyndeton on the injustices perpetrated by the Thebans in the past, Arrian tries to convey the impression that such

Alexander besieging cities  25

the Greeks’ fear of hearing about Thebes’ destruction is by no means seen as the outcome of Alexander’s well-planned policy of terror but rather as the natural consequence of the calamity that befell the Thebans. This fear is further explained by a rhetorical comparison of the Thebans’ pathos with other similar sufferings of the Greek past (1.9). All this has already been observed.24 What matters for our comparison of the two parts of the Anabasis is the technique of ‘Beinahe’ episodes,25 through which Arrian draws our attention to Alexander’s concern for the salvation of the city. Now, although employing this scheme in favor of Alexander in almost all the siege narratives for the most important cities of the first three books, Arrian almost completely abandons it in the second part of the work (Books IV–VI), or else, in those fewer instances where he does use it, he does so with the opposite aim, namely to stress Alexander’s cruelty. In this case, Arrian develops the scheme through a tripartite climax in order to highlight Alexander’s good intentions. In the first stage, Alexander, having just arrived on Cadmean land, dallies in order to offer the Thebans the opportunity to parley. Although they attack his army, he sends the light-armed troops and the archers to repel them, avoiding engaging in a battle (1.7.7–10). In the second stage of the climax, Alexander is again presented as delaying at the borders of the Theban land, while the Thebans, instead of aiming at a peace agreement, entrench themselves inside their walls and block all the routes which lead in and out of the city. Again, Alexander avoids offering them the final blow (1.7.10). Last, while the pro-Macedonian Thebans urge the citizens to send envoys to Alexander, the instigators of the revolt destroy any attempt at reconciliation. Once again, Alexander is unwilling to harm them (1.7.11). After this series of unexploited opportunities, the doom that befalls the Thebans can be seen as the logical corollary of their inability to take advantage of Alexander’s generosity.26 This tripartite climax is also discernible in the chapters on the siege of Halicarnassus (1.20.2–23.5).27 In the first stage of the climax (1.21.1–4), two Macedonians, “assisted by the heating fumes of wine” and being close to the walls of the city, were boasting to each other of their fighting skills. At some point, they decided to  a calamity was a just and divine punishment for their crimes against other cities (1.9.7–8). Cf. D.S. 17.14.2; HCA I, 84–85 and 88–89; Brunt 1976, lvi; AAA I, 331–332. 24 Brunt 1976, 35 n. 1, 39 n. 3; Stadter 1980, 92–93; HCA I, 78–91; AAA I, 321–333. 25 On ‘Beinahe’ episodes in other ancient historians, especially in Thucydides, see Rood 1998, 173; Rengakos 2006b, 294–295; Grethlein 2010, 250–251; Liotsakis 2017, 111–138. For this technique in epic, cf. Nesselrath 1992. 26 Tarn 1948 II, 67. 27 Cf. HCA I, 81 for a parallel drawn between the accounts of Thebes and Halicarnassus.

26  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism provoke some Halicarnassians in order to prove their bravery to each other. The Halicarnassians responded to their challenges and this small-scale skirmish developed into a sizable battle. Arrian ends this episode with the following comment (1.21.3–4): παρ’ ὀλίγον δὲ ἦλθε καὶ ἁλῶναι ἡ πόλις. τά τε γὰρ τείχη ἐν τῷ τότε οὐκ ἐν ἀκριβεῖ φυλακῇ ἦν καὶ δύο πύργοι καὶ μεσοπύργιον ἐς ἔδαφος καταπεπτωκότα οὐ χαλεπὴν ἂν τῷ στρατεύματι, εἰ ἅπαν προσήψατο τοῦ ἔργου, τὴν ἐς τὸ τεῖχος πάροδον παρέσχε. And indeed the city was not far from being captured. For at the time the walls were not carefully guarded, and as the two towers and one intervening curtain had fallen to their foundations, the approach to the wall would have been easy for the army, if all had applied themselves to the business.

By means of this ‘Beinahe’ episode, Arrian transforms an unresolved battle into what is almost a Macedonian triumph.28 In ch. 1.22.7, we again read: καὶ παρ’ ὀλίγον ἧκεν ἁλῶναι ἡ πόλις, εἰ μὴ Ἀλέξανδρος ἀνεκαλέσατο τὸ στράτευμα, ἔτι διασῶσαι ἐθέλων τὴν Ἁλικαρνασσόν, εἴ τι φίλιον ἐνδοθείη ἐκ τῶν Ἁλικαρνασσέων. The city indeed came near to capture, had not Alexander sounded the retreat, in a desire even now to save Halicarnassus if the citizens would surrender amicably.

Apart from their similarity with regard to the way the plot unfolds, these two episodes also resemble each other at a linguistic level (παρ’ ὀλίγον δὲ ἦλθε ἁλῶναι ἡ πόλις // καὶ παρ’ ὀλίγον ἧκεν ἁλῶναι ἡ πόλις), a fact which encourages the possibility that Arrian wished to shape the climaxes in a succession advancing from one to the other.29 The historian aimed to create a picture of constant danger for the Halicarnassians by stressing either the superiority of the Macedonian army or Alexander’s magnanimity. The third and last episode in the siege of Halicarnassus is the most interesting for our comparison, because it is closely connected with the imagery of destruction. This element is intensely differentiated between the first three and the following books with regard to its effect on the delineation of Alexander’s character. In ch. 1.23.1–4, the Macedonians have already blocked the city from both sea and  28 HCA I, 145–146; AAA I, 377. By contrast, Diodorus (17.25.5–6) writes that the incident caused the Macedonians considerable casualties. 29 He wrote one with the other in mind, being particularly careful with regard to the variatio. He replaced the δέ and ἦλθε of the first with the καί and ἧκε in the second. Cf. HCA I, 146, where Bosworth takes both comments as exaggerations.

Alexander besieging cities  27

land, and it is only a matter of time for them to conquer it. The Persian leaders and Memnon now decide to abandon Halicarnassus after first burning it down. Arrian pays particular attention to Alexander’s concern for the city. In a short suspenseful narrative, the king saves the city at the very last moment (1.23.4): Ἀλεξάνδρῳ δὲ ὡς ἐξηγγέλθη ταῦτα πρός τινων αὐτομολησάντων ἐκ τοῦ ἔργου καὶ τὸ πῦρ πολὺ καθεώρα αὐτός, καίτοι ἀμφὶ μέσας που νύκτας ἦν τὸ γιγνόμενον, ὁ δὲ καὶ ὣς ἐξαγαγὼν τοὺς Μακεδόνας τοὺς μὲν ἔτι ἐμπιπράντας τὴν πόλιν ἔκτεινεν, ὅσοι δὲ ἐν ταῖς οἰκίαις καταλαμβάνοιντο τῶν Ἁλικαρνασσέων, τούτους δὲ σώζειν παρήγγειλεν. When this news was reported to Alexander by men who deserted in this action, and when he himself saw the fire spreading, though all this took place about midnight, nonetheless he brought out his Macedonians and put to the sword those who were still setting fire to the city; he gave orders that Halicarnassians found in their houses should be spared.

The plot development of the episode conveys the impression that the story had a ‘happy ending’ and thereby disorientates the reader from its real end: it was Alexander himself who eventually razed the city to the ground (1.23.6). As we will see, from a certain point onwards the narrative will contribute not to conceal but to emphasize Alexander’s responsibility for burning and destroying the conquered cities. We find a similar episode when we read of Alexander’s arrival at Tarsus (2.4.5–6). When he was moving on to Tarsus, envoys from the city informed him that, after learning of his impending arrival, Arsames, who had been assigned the command of Tarsus by the Persian king, was intending to leave the city. The Tarsians feared that Arsames would plunder the city before deserting it.30 Arrian transforms a mere arrival in a city into a Hitchcock-like narrative. By positioning the information concerning the potential burning of the city at the beginning of the episode, he creates for Alexander a pressing deadline. Needless to say, the possibility of Arsames’ plunder of Tarsus is presented as a product of the inhabitants’ fear. Nevertheless, the author’s message is still the same as what we saw in the Halicarnassus narrative: had Alexander not hastened and shown concern, the city would very probably have been destroyed. Once more, as in Thebes and Halicarnassus, Alexander is transformed from being conqueror to the savior of a city.

 30 Cf. Memnon’s proposition to the Persians to destroy and burn the fields and the cities of Phrygia in the council before the battle of the Granicus (1.12.9), or the burning of the Indian cities by their own inhabitants in ch. 4.24.2 and ch. 4.24.6.

28  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism .. Tyre: divine favor and moral justification The next city under examination is Tyre (2.15.6–24). If the utter desolation of Thebes spread fear in the assemblies all over Greece, the repulsive view of the two thousand crucified men upon the ruins of one of the most powerful and beautiful cities of Phoenicia turned fear into horror, and this time in an Asian territory.31 One of the most celebrated scandals of Arrian’s account is the fact that he never mentions Alexander’s decision to crucify these men. Of course, a mere omission, especially if it stemmed from ignorance due to his use of a limited number of sources, is far from revealing in terms of emplotment.32 Equally unhelpful are the numbers of the casualties (2.24.4: around 8,000 Tyrians and about 400 Macedonians). As with plenty of other cases in the Anabasis, the numbers reflect the efforts of the pro-Macedonian sources to magnify Alexander’s exploits by exaggerating the casualties of the enemy while underplaying those of the Macedonians.33 In the account on Tyre there are three further elements that suggest more concretely how Arrian leads the reader to positive conclusions about Alexander’s and the Macedonians’ motivation and emotions. These are: (a) Alexander’s speech on the eve of the siege of Tyre; (b) the justification of the Macedonians’ rage during the eventual capture of the city; and (c) the connection of the capture of the city with the mythical hero Heracles. All these three elements create sharp contrasts with Arrian’s critical stance towards Alexander in the second half of the work. To begin with Alexander’s speech in front of his officials, the king explains to them why the siege of Tyre is a necessary prerequisite for the success of the war against the Persians. According to Alexander, the city had to be conquered for four principal reasons. Firstly, this was the best way for the Macedonians to take control of the sea. The Phoenicians, whose ships constituted the main bulk of the Persian fleet, would have no choice but to accede to the Macedonian side, in case they lost their cities. Secondly, the conquest of Phoenicia would also facilitate the subjection of Cyprus and Egypt. Thirdly, by taking command of the Persian navy, Alexander would deprive Darius of the opportunity to shift the war to the Aegean; and, fourthly, he would thereby dishearten the Greeks in their effort to weaken him in cooperation with the Persians (2.17).

 31 Compare also the comments in D.S. 17.46.4; Curt. 4.2.2 and 4.4.17. 32 On the difficulties faced by the ancient historians in the procedure of emplotment, see Liotsakis 2016. 33 HCA I, 254.

Alexander besieging cities  29

Although the authenticity of the speech has often been questioned,34 we need not doubt that Alexander’s arguments correspond to the historical circumstances of that period. Even if Alexander did not actually deliver the speech immediately before besieging Tyre or in the form that is preserved in Arrian’s text, the argumentation Arrian puts in the king’s mouth is convincing enough and reflects Alexander’s reasoning at that time.35 We should instead locate Arrian’s innovation in the way he creates narrative links between Alexander’s thoughts and the subsequent development of the plot. Arrian composes a speech that connects with both the preceding and the following narrative, thus highlighting Alexander’s foresight and presenting the siege of Tyre not as an irrational decision but as the result of a sober imperialistic strategy. A few chapters after the speech, the Phoenicians confirm Alexander’s prediction (2.20.1): ἐν τούτῳ δὲ Γηρόστρατός τε ὁ Ἀράδου βασιλεὺς καὶ Ἔνυλος ὁ Βύβλου ὡς ἔμαθον τὰς πόλεις σφῶν ὑπ’ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἐχομένας, ἀπολιπόντες Αὐτοφραδάτην τε καὶ τὰς ξὺν αὐτῷ νέας παρ’ Ἀλέξανδρον ξὺν τῷ ναυτικῷ τῷ σφετέρῳ ἀφίκοντο καὶ αἱ τῶν Σιδωνίων τριήρεις σὺν αὐτοῖς, ὥστε Φοινίκων μὲν νῆες ὀγδοήκοντα μάλιστα αὐτῷ παρεγένοντο. At this time Gerostratus king of Aradus and Enylus of Byblus, on learning that Alexander held their cities, left Autophradates and his ships and joined Alexander with their own fleet, along with the Sidonian triremes; thus some eighty Phoenician sail came over to him.

The fact that the Phoenicians deserted Autophradates, the leading instigator of the war in the Aegean, lends credence to Alexander’s suggestion that without the Phoenician triremes the Persians would not be able to conduct a diversionary war in Greece. Alexander’s perspicacity is also reflected in the eventual submission of Cyprus and the Cypriot navy by its kings to him (2.20.3–7; 2.24.1; 3.6.3). This is also the case with the opening chapter of Book III, where we read that the Persian satrap of Egypt, Mazaces, on learning that Alexander had occupied Phoenicia and other areas, gave up many cities to him (3.1.2). In Books IV–VII, Alexander’s military ambitions will deliberately be presented as much less rational than they are in this case. The Tyre account also differs from other similar narratives of the second part of the work with regard to Arrian’s favorable attitude towards the Macedonians’  34 So Kornemann 1935, 118; HCA I, 238–239; Will 1986, 78; Bloedow 1994; Bloedow 1998. 35 So Droysen 1833, 179; Radet 1900, 92–94; Beloch 1922, 638; Weigall 1933, 177; Tarn 1948 II, 286–287; Bury 19513, 766–767; Snyder 1966, 74–75; Hamilton 1973, 70; Schachermeyer 1973, 215; Wirth 1973, 23; Hammond 1980a, 110–111; Hammond 1993, 221; AAA I, 444. For further bibliography up to his time, see Bloedow 1994, 66 n. 3; Heckel 2009a, 35.

30  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism deeds and their emotional response. Specifically, at the end of this narrative unit, we are watching the Macedonians, full of rage, killing every single Tyrian. Arrian hastens to explain their anger with two arguments,36 the first being more neutral and the second delivering a more drastic emotional effect on the reader. The Macedonians were angry due to the protracted nature of the siege, but also because during the siege the Tyrians had captured some Macedonians, led them to the top of their walls so that they might be seen by their compatriots, slaughtered them, and cast them into the sea (2.24.2–3). This analeptic episode helps the reader to see the incident through the eyes of the emotionally involved Macedonians, who watched their comrades being executed without being able to help them. In this way, the reader, being forced to identify with them, may more easily excuse, if not favor, their vengefulness. We are still at a narrative stage where the focus on spectators contributes to the negative presentation of Alexander’s enemies. In the second half of the Anabasis, this technique will also be used against him. Contrasts between the two halves of the work are also created by the way Arrian relates the siege of Tyre to Heracles. When Alexander approached the city and its envoys visited him, he asked them to enter the city and make a sacrifice to Heracles.37 The Tyrians rejected his request, a decision which aroused Alexander’s anger (2.15.7; 16.7–8). After Alexander’s speech, Arrian again brings this subject to the foreground by presenting the imminent occupation of Tyre as being Heracles’ will, which was revealed to Alexander in one of his dreams. Aristander, the king’s favorite seer, interpreted the dream as a sign that Alexander would conquer Tyre, still with great difficulty, for the feats of Heracles were laborious as well (2.18.1). Arrian deliberately closes the Tyre account by reminding us again of Alexander’s respect for Heracles. The king dedicated a ship to the hero, the siege machine which knocked down a central part of the city walls, as well as an epigram written either by him or by someone else (2.24.6). Many similar anecdotes had been composed and circulated during the siege of the city. Alexander and his environment must have fabricated such stories predicting his eventual success, in order to keep the soldiers’ morale high and to convince them that their battles against the Tyrians and the natural elements that

 36 AAA I, 454. Arrian again willingly follows the Macedonian sources that used the incident “as an apology for the gruesome slaughter which ended the siege” (HCA I, 254). 37 The city god Melqart. D.S. 17.40.2; Arr. An. 2.16.1–6; Curt. 4.2.24–3.1. Cf. Bosworth 1988b, 65 and n. 125 with further bibliography.

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protected the city38 would eventually bear fruit.39 Plutarch, who mentions the same dream,40 includes some additional anecdotes. Alexander, they say, dreamed of a satyr and the seers interpreted the dream again as a sign that Tyre would be conquered, claiming that the word Σά-τυρος meant Σὰ γενήσεται Τύρος (“Tyre will be yours”). According to another story, it was not Alexander but the Tyrians who saw a dream, in which Apollo told them that he would go to Alexander because he did not approve of what was happening in the city. For this reason, they demobilized the god’s statue by tying it up and nailing down its base (Plu. Alex. 24.5–14 = FGrH 125 F7). Arrian seems here to be passing over all the other stories in favor of those which are to do with Heracles. On a narrative level, Arrian’s selectivity endows his account with greater coherence, thus conveying the impression that Tyre had been offered to Alexander by his ancestor Heracles. It is easy to discern Arrian’s favorable intentions here. First, in contrast with other similar cases, he avoids presenting the story as being an anecdote by using indirect speech; instead he records Alexander’s dream in direct speech, and thereby as a historical fact.41 It is telling in this respect that, although Plutarch and Curtius refer to this dream, neither of them mentions Aristander’s interpretation of it.42 From among the abundance of such episodes Arrian thus picked out the one that included Aristander. This was the most reliable in his opinion and in this respect the most

 38 Cf. Scyl. (pseudo-) 104; D.S. 17.40.5ff.; Curt. 4.2.7–15; Str. 16.2.23, p. 756C.35–757C.33; Plin. Nat. 5.76. On the topography of Tyre and the difficulties it caused the Macedonians, see selectively Eißfeldt RE VII A, 1, cols. 1877–9; Green 1974, 248; HCA I, 239–240; Stewart 1987, 97–99; Romane 1987; Grainger 1991, 35–40; Hammond 1997, 92–94; AAA I, 445; Heckel 2008, 67–69; Worthington 2014, 174. 39 HCA I, 239; O’Brien 1991, 83; Bloedow 1994, 68 n. 12; Amitay 2008. Alexander also used Heracles (Melqart) as a pretext for demanding that the Tyrians allow him to enter the city. See Bloedow’s (1998, 273–279) excellent discussion. 40 Plutarch (Alex. 24.5) locates the dream at an advanced stage of the siege (cf. Brunt 1976, 186 n. 1). The fact that Arrian put it at the beginning of his account does not necessarily mean that he found it in this position in his sources. He may have changed the original order, following, in this way, his usual method of presenting the reader with both the rational and supernatural factors that affected Alexander’s judgment before an operation. Compare the similar twofold introductory analysis of Alexander’s decision to disband his navy in ch. 1.18.6–20.1; the facts that led Alexander to the conclusion that Alexander of Aeropus had indeed betrayed him (1.25); and the listing of the reasons why Alexander ignored the advice of the Chaldaean seers not to enter Babylon (7.16.5–17.6). 41 See Stadter’s (1980, 73–74) list of passages of omens related as legomena. 42 Plu. Alex. 24–25; Curt. 4.2.17.

32  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism capable of assuring the reader that the siege of Tyre was partly the manifestation of Heracles’ will.43 Nevertheless, all these incidents are presented with a strong degree of aloofness. In the accounts of the omens explained by Aristander, the seer’s prediction is regularly confirmed in the end. Arrian occasionally concludes with a comment of the type “and thus Aristander’s prophecy came true”.44 In this case, however, Arrian avoids supplying such a conclusion. This omission is hardly to be considered a coincidence, especially if we examine it in relation to Arrian’s pejorative comment on the epigram dedicated by Alexander to Heracles (2.24.6): “and the Tyrian sacred ship […] was dedicated to Heracles with an inscription, either of his own composition or of someone else’s, not worth recording; that is why I did not trouble to copy it.” This epigram has been attributed to one of Alexander’s court poets, all of whom were responsible for the propagandistic embellishment of Alexander. Arrian’s scorn of the epigram may be seen as implicit criticism towards the Macedonian abuse of Heracles.45 However, as will be demonstrated, Arrian will be much stricter with regard to this subject in the second half of the Anabasis. .. Gaza: the king’s aidōs After Tyre, Alexander conquers Gaza, a city on the borders of Phoenicia and Egypt (2.25.4–27.7). As usual, Arrian opens his account with the difficulties of the conquest. Gaza, lying close to the sea, was hard to approach from the side of the water, because the ground on that side was full of shoals and in the way up to it one crossed over deep sand. Moreover, the citizens were determined to resist and for this purpose had stocked up with a considerable amount of supplies (2.25.4–26.1). This is the typical way in which Arrian arranged most of the military descriptions in his work. We are very often first presented with the prohibiting factors

 43 Aristander is generally treated by Arrian in a positive way (1.25.8; 2.18.1; 2.26.4–27.2; 3.2.2; 3.7.6–15.7; 4.4.3–9). For Aristander in Plutarch, Arrian, Curtius, and Artemidorus, see Nice 2005. On Arrian’s respect for Aristander, see Berve 1926 I, 90–92 and II, 62–63 n. 117; Stadter 1980, 73. Given the laudatory nature of Callisthenes’ history of Alexander, Robinson’s (1929) apt theory that Arrian’s references to Aristander stemmed from Callisthenes’ text strengthens the view that the seer’s presence in the histories of Alexander contributed to the praise of the king. Indeed, Callisthenes showed a special interest in omens (FGrH 124 F20; F21; F22a; F23; F24) (see Brown 1949, 232). It is also worth mentioning that Arrian’s presentation of Aristander’s predictions in Tyre is clearly friendlier towards the Telmissean seer than is Plutarch’s (Alex. 25.2). 44 2.27.2; 3.15.7; 4.4.9. 45 On the possible identity of these poets, see Tarn 1948 II, 58 and n. 5 with further bibliography; HCA I, 255.

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that make an operation seem difficult both to the historical agents and to us as readers. Such introductions are usually followed by Alexander’s decision to accept the challenge and by the strategic plan through which he intends to solve the problem. At the end comes the success of Alexander’s plan.46 This structuring of the plot, based on both suspense and surprise, brings Alexander’s fearless nature to the foreground, while also stressing his shrewdness in overcoming the most difficult obstacles. The reader, being presented from the very beginning with the difficulties, is invited to appreciate Alexander’s courage and cleverness even more. Sometimes, the obstacles are introduced through the thoughts or eyes of others, such as Alexander’s enemies or the Macedonian scouts,47 all of whom usually believe that the king will or should abandon an operation. In this way, Alexander’s invincibility is stressed even more, given that he is presented as being the only one capable of confronting such situations. The Gaza narrative is distinguished from other episodes of this category, as it constitutes a central part of our comparison of the two parts of the Anabasis. This is because it carries a laudatory element which will turn into a pejorative motif in Books IV–VI. The feature in question is the focus on Alexander’s confidence in the face of challenges. Although scholars have noted that the account of Gaza shares this element with those of the rock of Chorienes and the Aornus rock,48 the fact that in each case Arrian uses this subject differently has been neglected. It is thus worth examining how this element contributes to the differentiation of Alexander’s portrait from the first part of the work to the second. In the Gaza account, when his engineers advise him to abandon the effort to besiege the city, Alexander reacts in the following way (2.26.3): ἀλλὰ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ αἱρετέον ἐδόκει εἶναι ὅσῳ ἀπορώτερον· ἐκπλήξειν γὰρ τοὺς πολεμίους τὸ ἔργον τῷ παραλόγῳ ἐπὶ μέγα, καὶ τὸ μὴ ἑλεῖν αἰσχρὸν εἶναί οἱ λεγόμενον ἔς τε τοὺς Ἕλληνας καὶ ἐς Δαρεῖον.

 46 Cf. Stadter 1980, 95. Compare also the battle against the autonomous Thracians (1.1.6–13); the withdrawal of the Macedonian army from Pellium (1.5.11–6.8); the battle of the Granicus (1.13.3–16.7); the accounts of Aspendus, Telmissus, Sagalassus, and Celaenae (1.27–29.2) (for which see the analysis below); the siege of Tyre (2.18.1–24.6 with the difficulties being presented in advance in ch. 2.18.1–2); the occupation of the Persian Gates (3.18.1–10); the conquest of the Mardi (3.24.1–3); the occupations of Oxyartes’ and Chorienes’ rocks (4.18.4–21.10); the occupation of the Aornus rock (4.28); and the crossing of the confluence of the Hydaspes and the Acesines rivers (6.4.4–5.4). 47 1.5.11–12; 1.13.3–5; 1.28.2; 2.26.2; 3.24.2–3; 4.18.6-7; 4.27.6; 4.22.1–2; 5.22.1–2; 6.4.5. 48 See HCA II, 136.

34  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Alexander thought, on the contrary, that the more impracticable it was, the more necessary was the capture; for the achievement would strike great terror into his enemies just because it was beyond calculation, while not to take it would be an embarrassment of his prestige when reported to the Greeks and Darius.

The capture of Tyre made Alexander appreciate that even the most difficult operations can be accomplished with persistence and rational preparation.49 It is exactly this positive effect of the success of Tyre on Alexander’s morale that Arrian wishes to convey in the king’s dialogue with his engineers in the Gaza account. At this point Arrian wished to create a striking antithesis between this narrative and similar episodes in the second part of the work. For in contrast with similar occasions in Books IV and V, the emphasis on Alexander’s morale is not censorious here. Confidence is not described as a moral slip but, rather, is filtered through the embellishing prism of the heroic aidōs (αἰσχρόν). In the battle description of the Granicus, Alexander has already been acting under the influence of aidōs.50 When Parmenio proposed that he wait until dawn, pointing out the dangers lurking in the waters of the river, Alexander answered, in a similar fashion to his words in the Gaza account, that he is ashamed of the Greeks and the Persians if he is to fear crossing such a small river, whereas he had previously crossed the Hellespont with great ease. This line of thought is that a greater feat makes a man feel obliged to cope with similar but easier tasks. In the Gaza narrative, although we do not have an explicit association between Tyre and Gaza, such as we have between the Hellespont and the Granicus, Alexander’s mentality is exactly the same and is presented again as heroic aidōs. In the first part of the Anabasis, Alexander’s confidence appears to emerge partly from his respect for the opinions and expectations of his companions, partly from his love for his country, and partly from his moral duty not to bring shame on his homeland, his ancestors, and his own honor. In this respect, his decision to face a challenge stems from an emotion (aidōs) inextricably related to his system of moral principles. This emotion is also altogether acceptable and laudable in the code of principles of the Greek military society from the archaic era up to the age of Alexander.51 In the second half of the Anabasis, Alexander’s heroic shame will

 49 Tarn 1948 I, 40–41; Schachermeyr 1973, 218–220; Hammond 1980a, 119; Stadter 1980, 101– 102; Seibert 1985, 83; Ramone 1988, 22–23; Grainger 1991, 39–40. 50 For more on which, see Chapter IV, pp. 183–184 and pp. 186–187. 51 On the diachronic associations of shame with war in Greek society, as testified in ancient Greek literature from Homer to Democritus, see von Erffa’s (1937) old but still invaluable study. Cf. Cairns 1993, 68–87, 265–268, 375, 420–422. Cf. also ch. 2.27.2, where Alexander’s zeal inspires the Macedonians who are under pressure not to flee disgracefully, and which is not the only

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turn into anger, and this is exactly where we should seek for Arrian’s own contribution to the representation of historical reality.

.. The three rocks: from aidōs to vanity Arrian’s attitude towards Alexander’s confidence in Gaza stands in sharp contrast with three similar accounts in the two following books. The shift in Arrian’s portrait of Alexander takes place from the very beginning of Book IV, particularly in the chapters on the occupation of the Sogdian Rock (which took place in early spring of 327 BCE). Alexander’s success in this stronghold had a considerable impact on the course of the campaign. At this point, Alexander was struggling to suppress the Sogdians. The Sogdian Rock was a fortress located at a very difficult spot, on the top of a mountain, and its inhospitable location offered the Sogdians a safe refuge. Moreover, the most distinguished among them, including Oxyartes, had fled there with their families. The occupation of the fortress would thus strike a significant blow to the Sogdians.52 Still, in order to conquer the rock, Alexander was invited to solve a significant problem: the inaccessibility of the place. As in the case of Gaza, conquering the rock is presented as a challenge for Alexander. On a structural level, the account again opens with the details of the obstacles Alexander had to overcome: (a) the fortress is built at the top of a very high and steep mountain;53 (b) the inhabitants have provided themselves with plenty of supplies, which means that the Macedonians, even if they manage to climb the mountain, will have to besiege the fortress for a lengthy period; and (c) the heavy snowfall has made it even more difficult for the Macedonians to reach

 heroic element in the account of Gaza. In the last paragraphs (2.27.6), when the Macedonians have taken the city wall, their last attack is turned into a ‘noble emulation’ in determining who will take the wall first; this is a characteristic heroic motif of the Anabasis, contributing to the praise of the Macedonian virtue (see Chapter IV, p. 171). 52 Whatever this blow was and whenever the place was conquered. Arrian names it merely as the ‘Sogdian Rock’, which is not compatible with any of the other sources (Curt. 7.11.1; Metz Epit. 18; Polyaen. 4.3.29, who all give the nomenclature ‘Rock of Ariamazes’, and Str. 11.11.4, p. 517C.27–28, who names the place ‘Rock of Oxus’). However, although we are not in a position to know the exact location of the stronghold, it is commonly agreed that its occupation was an important step in Alexander’s effort to control the area near Nautaca. On the difficult task of identifying the rock, see von Schwarz 1906, 75; Tarn 1948 I, 72–73; Brunt 1976, 506; HCA I, 124–126; Bosworth 1981; Holt 1988, 61, 66; AAA II, 326–328. 53 AAA I, XXXVIII: “In Arriano l’interesse per i dati geografici sembra limitato a quei casi in cui essi contribuiscono ad accrescere le difficoltà delle imprese del suo eroe”.

36  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism the top of the mountain, while it has also provided the Sogdians with more water supplies. This introduction prepares the reader for the display of Alexander’s courage. The largest part of the rest of the narrative until the surrender of the stronghold is dedicated to Alexander’s decision to besiege the rock and to his dexterity in organizing and accomplishing a difficult operation. The story ends with the stereotypical surprising of the enemies and their surrender (4.18.4–20.4). The episode is clearly a challenge story, which is also evident in its ring-compositional structure.54 At the beginning of the account, the barbarians reject Alexander’s proposal to negotiate, mocking him by saying that he will only be able to take the fortress if he finds flying warriors. Then, when the Macedonians climb the mountain, Alexander orders them to demand the surrender of the place and to tell the Sogdians that he has found the flying soldiers. This narrative is the first in a chain of similar challenge narratives which pervade Books IV and V (Sogdian Rock, the Rock of Chorienes, Aornus, and Nysa).55 It is exactly these structural similarities between the account of Gaza and that of the Sogdian Rock (viz. the presentation of difficulties, Alexander’s decision to defy them, and his final success) that stress even further to the reader their difference with regard to penetrating Alexander’s feelings and motives. In contrast with the Gaza narrative, Alexander’s love for glory is not dictated here by the aidōs that represents his heroic moral system but by his rage that stems from his unbalanced spirit (4.18.6): καὶ γάρ τι καὶ ὑπέρογκον ὑπὸ τῶν βαρβάρων λεχθὲν ἐς φιλοτιμίαν ξὺν ὀργῇ ἐμβεβλήκει Ἀλέξανδρον. προκληθέντες γὰρ ἐς ξύμβασιν καὶ προτεινομένου σφίσιν, ὅτι σώοις ὑπάρξει ἐπὶ τὰ σφέτερα ἀπαλλαγῆναι παραδοῦσι τὸ χωρίον, οἱ δὲ σὺν γέλωτι βαρβαρίζοντες πτηνοὺς

 54 Cf. the ring compositions between ch. 6.11.2 and ch. 6.11.8. For further examples in the Anabasis, see in this chapter p. 21 and p. 49; Chapter II, p. 103; Chapter III, p. 137 and p. 139; Chapter IV, p. 170 and p. 199. The employment of ring composition as a means by which to intensify authorial judgments and the scope of a passage was a common practice in Graeco-Roman historiography. Generally, see Herington 1991 on Herodotus; Ellis 1991, 1994, 1998 on Thucydides and Liotsakis 2017, 23, 52–53, 61, 98, 107, 125, 133, and 52 n. 81 with further bibliography; Keaney 1969 on Aristotle’s Ἀθηναίων Πολιτεία on ring composition as a method for structuring the history of the Athenian constitution into different and easily discernible stages; Walsh 2009 on Diodorus of Sicily. On this scheme in Latin historiography, see e.g. Benediktson 1997 on Suetonius’ Galba and Krauss 2010 on Caesar’s De Bello Gallico. Needless to say, the scheme is a distinctive feature of narrative arrangement in Homer. On ring composition as an instinctive way by which storytellers try to offer their tales in a more effective way both in modern oral story-telling and Homer, see Minchin 1995. 55 A series of cases where “Book IV sees the ascendancy of Alexander tested” (Stadter 1980, 82).

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ἐκέλευον ζητεῖν στρατιώτας Ἀλέξανδρον, οἵτινες αὐτῷ ἐξαιρήσουσι τὸ ὄρος, ὡς τῶν γε ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων οὐδεμίαν ὤραν σφίσιν οὖσαν. A boastful remark by the barbarians had contributed to Alexander’s passionate pursuit of the glory of success; when summoned to make terms, which were offered on the basis that they would be allowed to go safe to their homes if they gave up the position, they told Alexander with barbaric laughter to look for soldiers with wings to capture the mountain for him, since no other men would give them any concern.

Needless to say, the Sogdian episode is not an altogether censorious narrative. Arrian, as stated above, offers a vivid description of the climbing skills of the Macedonians, while Alexander demonstrates moderation in his treatment of Rhoxane.56 Still, one cannot overlook Montgomery’s observation that Arrian seems to criticize, even in a covert way, the humble nature of Alexander’s motives in choosing to take the fortress.57 Although at the beginning of the account Arrian also refers to the strategic reasons for the operation, the narrative distracts us from the realistic dimensions of Alexander’s decision and orientates us instead towards his arrogance. Alexander’s anger at the Sogdian Rock echoes his inability to control his rage in the pivotal digression of ch. 4.8–14. Rage has a central role in the shift in Alexander’s attitude from the first to the second part of the work. In Books I–III, there are four instances of anger. In ch. 1.8.8, Arrian absolves the Macedonians from the anger against the Thebans.58 In three further passages, where Arrian attributes the emotion of anger to Alexander or the Macedonians, he does so in such a way as either to intensify Alexander’s modesty or to excuse him and his men. In ch. 1.10.6, the Athenians, terrified by the destruction of Thebes, ask Alexander

 56 This was a popular topic, which offered fertile ground for decades of debate in the historical and philosophical circles until the age of Arrian. The one side claimed that Alexander’s marriage with a barbarian woman reflected his lack of moderation and his disrespect for Hellenic customs. On the other side, there were those, seemingly including Arrian, who presented this event as a proof of the Macedonian’s self-control (Stadter 1980, 83–84; HCA II, 131–132; AAA II, 430–432). See, further, Chapter III, pp. 129–130. 57 Cf. Montgomery 1965, 182. 58 “And then, in hot blood, it was not so much the Macedonians as Phocians and Plataeans and the other Boeotians”. This linguistic feature (to express an opinion by negation) suggests that Arrian is explicitly (and, of course, misleadingly; cf. Tarn 1948 I, 8 and II, 67, 200–202; Brunt 1976 I, 39 n. 3; HCA I, 84; AAA I, 328; Tóth 2007, who ironically describes in the title of his essay Arrian’s account as an ‘Apologia Alexandrou’) responding here to a current counter-argument against the cruelty of Alexander and the Macedonian. For this, see, for example, D.S. 17.13.1 ἀφειδῶς ἀνῄρουν referring to the Macedonians). See also Moorhouse 1959, 1–6 for the use of the scheme οὐ … ἀλλά as an indicator of disagreement.

38  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism not to be angry with the anti-Macedonian Athenians. Alexander accepts their request and Arrian attributes the king’s clemency to his aidōs for the glorious past of Athens. If in the Gaza episode shame serves as the veil that embellishes Alexander’s confidence, in this case the very same emotion outweighs anger. The other two examples are ch. 2.16.8, where Alexander is frustrated by the Tyrian representatives’ rejection of his request to visit Heracles’ temple, and ch. 2.24.3, where the Macedonians are presented as being full of rage at the Tyrians. However, in both cases, as we saw, Alexander and the Macedonians are justified in feeling anger. The dream Heracles sent to Alexander leads the reader to the conclusion that Heracles opposed the Tyrians’ refusal and sympathized with Alexander’s anger. Furthermore, Alexander’s rational line of argument in the following speech on why Tyre should be conquered leaves no doubt that the king’s decision against the city resulted not from his inability to restrain his anger but from his strategic calculations. It is telling that, in contrast to all these passages in the first two books, in the second part of the Anabasis, not only in the digression and the Sogdian account but also in ch. 4.23.5 and ch. 5.28.2–4, rage is implicitly connected to themes that Arrian is critical of (namely, arrogance and intemperance). The second challenge for Alexander is the Rock of Chorienes in the land of the Pareitacae.59 This narrative resembles the previous one in almost every respect.60 Arrian mentions first the reasons as to why the craggy fortress is impregnable; it is located at a very high spot and there is only one way to reach it. The path is craggy and can take only one man at a time, and even then with great difficulty. Below is a canyon, which makes the route to the fortress even more dangerous, given that, if someone falls, he has no chance of surviving. This description is followed by Alexander’s decision to accept the challenge. Again the chapters on the Macedonians’ struggle to beat nature follow, this time by filling up the ravine under Alexander’s supervision. They finally climb the mountain and take their enemies, including their leader Chorienes, by surprise. The latter surrender the fortress after Oxyartes’ admonitions (4.21). Chorienes’ narrative stands in sharp contrast with the Gaza account, as in both cases Arrian touches not merely upon Alexander’s skills and boldness but also upon Alexander’s opinion on his own qualities. In this case a polycentric narrative leads the reader to a negative judgment through a multiple focalization. Alexander’s daring is evaluated not only by himself but also by his enemies and  59 On the identity of this individual, see Heckel 1986; HCA II, 135; AAA II, 433; Heckel 2009a, 43. 60 Cf. Stadter 1980, 83; Bosworth 1988b, 59–60; HCA II, 125.

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the author.61 Specifically, when Alexander learns of the impregnability of the Rock of Chorienes, he reacts in the following way (4.21.3): ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς Ἀλέξανδρος ἥπτετο τοῦ ἔργου· οὕτως πάντα ᾤετο χρῆναι βατά τε αὑτῷ καὶ ἐξαιρετέα εἶναι […]. Even so, Alexander took the work in hand, as he thought that no place should be beyond him to get up to and capture […].

Arrian comments here that: […] ἐς τοσόνδε τόλμης τε καὶ εὐτυχίας προκεχωρήκει. […] to such a point of daring and good fortune had he advanced.

The same issue emerges when we read of Oxyartes’ advice to Chorienes on whether he should surrender or not (4.21.7): ὁ δὲ ἀφικόμενος πείθει Χοριήνην ἐπιτρέψαι Ἀλεξάνδρῳ αὑτόν τε καὶ τὸ χωρίον. βίᾳ μὲν γὰρ οὐδὲν ὅ τι οὐχ ἁλωτὸν εἶναι Ἀλεξάνδρῳ καὶ τῇ στρατιᾷ τῇ ἐκείνου […]. […] and when Oxyartes arrived, he urged Chorienes to surrender himself and the stronghold to Alexander; there was not a place in the world Alexander and his army could not take by force […].

With this tripartite approach the author no doubt aimed to draw our attention to Alexander’s dexterity,62 but the key question is this: to what conclusions does it lead us regarding his character? Oxyartes believes that Alexander can occupy everything; Alexander believes that he must occupy everything. However, as Arrian implies with his comment, the king is unable to see that, apart from his boldness, he should also thank his good luck.63 Once again, praise coexists with criticism.

 61 In literature, multiple focalization, by offering multiple views of a subject, stresses the subject in question by not offering the reader a definite judgment and therefore forcing her to make up her own mind about the subject. See Genette 1988, 197–198. 62 HCA II, 138. 63 On the topos of Alexander’s fortune and his inability to use it wisely, cf. FGrH 124 T19b; Curt. 3.2.17–18; 3.4.11; 3.6.18; 3.8.20; 3.8.29–30; 3.12.20 on the gradual defeat of Alexander by his pride and wrath due to his good fortune; D.S. 17.38.5–7. Cf. Plutarch’s rhetorical De Alexandri magni fortuna aut virtute. Baynham’s (1998, 101–103) excellent discussion of the ancient sources and modern scholarship on this matter in Chapter IV of her monograph on Curtius’ history of Alexander is a valuable resource.

40  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Without underplaying the value of Alexander’s achievements,64 Arrian critiques him for his inability to realize that his success should not be considered as proof of his indisputable invincibility but as a result of the combination of his daring and his good fortune. Arrian criticizes the king’s arrogance by creating echoes of the censure expressed in the digression of ch. 4.8–14. In ch. 4.7.5, Arrian had expressed the view that a truly charismatic leader should face his own achievements with modesty. Otherwise, military feats, however important, lose their value, if they are not dictated by sōphrosynē. This view emerges in the accounts on the rocks of Oxyartes and Chorienes too. The occupations of these two impregnable strongholds are undoubtedly great feats, but they deserve our criticism, exactly because they were not imposed by moderation but by all those elements that undermine them: rage and great haughtiness. The last challenge in Book IV is the Aornus Rock in Bactria (4.28.1–30.4). Alexander was on his way to the river Indus, ready to start his march to India. However, at Bactria he faced the resistance of the natives, who, after being pursued by his army, fled to their most strong fortress, Aornus.65 The account resembles in many ways the two preceding narratives. Arrian first mentions the harshness of the position and the reasons why its occupation would be a challenge for Alexander. According to the legends, even Heracles was unable to take the stronghold. Alexander, especially due to these rumors, decides to proceed with the siege of the site, and the following chapters in this unit are dedicated to the way in which he annihilated its surprised defenders and conquered the rock. Arrian returns here to the subject of Alexander’s hubris towards the gods, in particular Heracles. In the digression of ch. 4.8–14, the blame for the king’s disrespect had been attributed to his flatterers, while Alexander himself had not been presented as expressing his own view on the matter. Here the king is caught in the act of implementing his competitive policy towards Heracles.66 We can see more clearly how negative Arrian is here if we compare his attitude in this case with that in the case of Tyre. As we saw, in the Tyre narrative he avoided saying that Aristander’s prophecy had been fulfilled and refused to cite a verbatim reference for the propagandistic epigram dedicated by the king to Heracles. In spite of this, Arrian also connected the occupation of the city with divine

 64 See further Stadter 1980, 84, on this as well as the other two challenges. 65 On Alexander’s operations in Aornus, see Holt 1988, 28, 48, 55, 76, 81. 66 Cf. HCA II, 180ff. On Alexander’s relationship with Heracles, see also Hogarth 1887, 320, 326; Balsdon 1950, 377; Edmunds 1971, 372ff.

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omens, which claimed that Heracles had sent to Alexander. The reluctant favor of that case is now turned into explicit and critical rejection (4.28.2): εἰ μὲν δὴ καὶ ἐς Ἰνδοὺς ἀφίκετο ὁ Ἡρακλῆς ὁ Θηβαῖος ἢ ὁ Τύριος ἢ ὁ Αἰγύπτιος ἐς οὐδέτερα ἔχω ἰσχυρίσασθαι· μᾶλλον δὲ δοκῶ ὅτι οὐκ ἀφίκετο, ἀλλὰ πάντα γὰρ ὅσα χαλεπὰ οἱ ἄνθρωποι ἐς τοσόνδε ἄρα αὔξουσιν αὐτῶν τὴν χαλεπότητα, ὡς καὶ τῷ Ἡρακλεῖ ἂν ἄπορα γενέσθαι μυθεύειν. κἀγὼ ὑπὲρ τῆς πέτρας ταύτης οὕτω γιγνώσκω, τὸν Ἡρακλέα ἐς κόμπον τοῦ λόγου ἐπιφημίζεσθαι. In fact I cannot assert with confidence if Heracles, whether the Theban or the Tyrian or the Egyptian Heracles, ever actually reached India; I incline to think that he did not, but that men will magnify difficulties they meet, so far as to make up a story that even Heracles would not have overcome them. So it is my own view about this rock that the name Heracles is brought into the tale as a boast.

Of course, the two cases differ from one another in that in the Tyre narrative Arrian examines a dream and in the Aornus account he examines rumors. However, what matters here is the way Arrian treats the Macedonian propaganda in each case. Arrian offers a rational explanation for the rumors in Aornus,67 implying that they have been fabricated and disseminated by the Macedonians themselves, including Alexander, and he thereby devalues the propagandistic rhetoric of the Macedonian court.68 His disdain gradually leads to irony, when we read his last words on the matter (4.30.4): εἴχετό τε Ἀλεξάνδρῳ ἡ πέτρα ἡ τῷ Ἡρακλεῖ ἄπορος γενομένη […]. […] and Alexander was now in possession of the rock Heracles could not take […].

Having already read Arrian’s doubts about Heracles’ visit to this city, the reader is invited to perceive the ironic tone of this sentence, which targets: (a) the falsity of the blusters of Alexander and the Macedonians; (b) the deceit that the Macedonians were victims of, whenever Alexander wanted to take advantage of such local myths; (c) the hypocritical nature of the celebrations in honor of Heracles; and (d) the political reasons behind the public display of the king’s piety.69

 67 Burliga 2013, 115. 68 HCA II, 180–181. 69 Despite Hogarth (1887) and Edmund’s (1971) romantic views of Alexander as a sincere supporter of the heroic glory and the divinity implied by it, it is undeniable that Alexander, even if motivated to a certain degree, and at least initially, by his sincere aspiration (or vanity), did actually employ his deification and his identification with Heracles for political reasons as well (Meyer 1910 I, 312f.; Robinson 1943, 290, 297 n. 30; Bosworth 1977; Tarn 1948 I, 114; Edmunds

42  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism The difference between Arrian’s discretion in the case of Tyre and his caustic tone in the present passage of text belongs to those elements that exemplify his intention to build two divergent portraits of Alexander in the two parts of his work. In the first three books, he avoids touching on Alexander’s disrespect for religion in order to do so from Book IV onwards. The route from praise to criticism is achieved by the concealment of Alexander’s flaws in the first three books, their introduction in the emphatic digression of ch. 4.8–14, and their repetition in the last books. As for Alexander’s arrogance towards the gods, in what follows we will analyze further examples from the second part of the work. The three narratives (Sogdian Rock, Rock of Chorienes, and Aornus) should also be compared to a similar series of episodes in Book I. In ch. 1.27–29, Arrian relates Alexander’s effort to take another three strongholds, Aspendus, Telmissus, and the citadel of Celaenae. The comparison of the two triads shows how differently Arrian treated Alexander’s attitude on similar occasions in Books I and IV. The Aspendus narrative opens with a description of the impregnability of the city. Later Arrian narrates how Alexander passed the first wall and camped in the deserted houses of that area. The episode ends with the surprised Aspendians sending representatives to Alexander in order to parley (1.27.1–4). All these resemble the narratives of Book IV, as also occurs in the chapters on the stronghold of Celaenae (1.29.1–3). Of course, in Aspendus and the citadel of Celaenae Alexander never tried to overcome the natural environment. However, the narrative unfolds in such a way that Arrian conveys the impression that there is a challenge Alexander succeeds in overcoming. One could say that in these cases Arrian composed a similar series of challenge episodes. What is important is the fact that Arrian, in contrast with what he does in Book IV, never comments negatively on Alexander’s decisiveness here. Even when he looks more closely into Alexander’s motives in these operations, he always focuses on Alexander’s moderate and rational way of thinking.70 Besides, the occupation of these cites is presented as part of a plan to neutralize the Persian navy and conquer the Persian Empire, both of which are favorably prepared in the readers’ minds by the omen of ch. 1.18.9. It is by no means suggested here that Arrian fabricated Alexander’s attitude in Book I in order to compare him with

 1971, 386). On Alexander’s propaganda regarding his association with Heracles at the rock of Aornus, see especially Worthington 2014, 241–243. 70 Montgomery (1965, nn. 8 and 9) included the motivations in ch. 1.27.3 and ch. 1.27.7 among the examples that suggest Alexander’s shrewdness.

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the Alexander of Book IV. The Macedonian king seems indeed to have acted rationally, as is also apparent in his decision to abandon his efforts in Telmissus (1.28.2).71 What is meant by this is that Arrian took advantage of the similarities he discerned between the operations in 334 BCE and 327 BCE, and through verbal and structural echoes he tried to lead the reader to comparisons that stress more vividly the change in Alexander’s attitude from Book I to Book IV. This compara-tive examination of the two triads helps us to apprehend the shift in Arrian’s at-titude towards Alexander from the first to the last books. If the comparison with the Gaza account marks a route from aidōs towards anger and vanity, the juxta-position with the triad of Book I suggests Alexander’s aberration from prudence and rationalism. Comparing all these cases, one wonders if Arrian is exaggerating with regard to the element of challenge in Book IV. Did Alexander not have a rational plan of action at the rocks of Sogdiana and Bactria, similar to his plan with Aspendus, Telmissus and Celaenae? Were these strongholds indeed mostly challenges for Alexander’s ego? On the contrary, the two Sogdian cities were a considerable obstacle for Alexander in his effort to secure a harmonious and stable administration over this district. Since they served as refuges for the rebels, as long as they remained unconquered, the Macedonians had no chance of taking control of Sogdiana. Their occupation was thus not merely a challenge of prestige for Alexander; it was also a pressing need, if he wanted to secure what he was leaving behind and to begin his campaign beyond the Indus undistracted.72 Arrian’s choice to focus on the king’s emotions is not due to his ignorance of the king’s strategy. This choice should better be seen as part of Arrian’s general interest in Books IVVI in the subject inaugurated in the great digression, namely the negative effect of Alexander’s successes on his morality.

.. Nysa: predisposing the reader for Books V–VI To continue with the second half of the Anabasis, Heracles is not the only deity to be disrespected by Alexander. Dionysus, who has been as offended as Heracles was by Alexander’s competitive arrogance in the digression of ch. 4.8–14 (4.10.6), dominates the opening chapters of Book V, where Arrian takes us to exotic Nysa.

 71 HCA I, 170. 72 Badian 1965b, 174–177; Bosworth 1980, 13; Holt 1988, 61 and generally on the Sogdian war 52–60 and 60 n. 41 with further bibliography up to his day; Bloedow 1991a and 1991b; Heckel 2009a, 43; Anson 2013, 165–166; Müller 2014, 227; Worthington 2014, 228–230.

44  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism When Alexander reached the area between the rivers Cophen and Indus, the Nysaeans sent their most distinguished citizen, Acuphis, to him. This man delivered a speech in Alexander’s presence, in which he asked him to respect the autonomy of his homeland. The core of Acuphis’ argument was the idea that the independence of the city had its roots in Dionysus’ visit to India. On his return to Greece, the god, according to the Indian noble, founded Nysa and inhabited it with the men who were unfit for service among his soldiers. He named the place Nysa in memory of his nurse Nyse and the mountain lying next to the city Merus (thigh), given that, according to the legend, Dionysus had grown in Zeus’ thigh.73 Alexander accepted Acuphis’ proposal and respected the autonomy of the Nysaeans, demanding only some horsemen. There were also rumors that he visited, in the company of his cavalry and infantry, Mount Merus, where the ivy was said to grow due to the presence of the god. The Macedonians crowned themselves with the ivy (5.1–3). Although Arrian has so far repeatedly accepted stories of supernatural content (oracles, omens, prophesies, signs, etc.),74 he chooses here to be more cautious. As to whether Dionysus reached India or not, we read (5.1.2): οὐ γὰρ ἔχω συμβαλεῖν εἰ ὁ Θηβαῖος Διόνυσος [ὃς] ἐκ Θηβῶν ἢ ἐκ Τμώλου τοῦ Λυδίου ὁρμηθεὶς ἐπὶ Ἰνδοὺς ἧκε στρατιὰν ἄγων, τοσαῦτα μὲν ἔθνη μάχιμα καὶ ἄγνωστα τοῖς τότε Ἕλλησιν ἐπελθών, οὐδὲν δὲ αὐτῶν ἄλλο ὅτι μὴ τὸ Ἰνδῶν βίᾳ χειρωσάμενος· πλήν γε δὴ ὅτι οὐκ ἀκριβῆ ἐξεταστὴν χρὴ εἶναι τῶν ὑπὲρ τοῦ θείου ἐκ παλαιοῦ μεμυθευμένων. τὰ γάρ τοι κατὰ τὸ εἰκὸς ξυντιθέντι οὐ πιστά, ἐπειδὰν τὸ θεῖόν τις προσθῇ τῷ λόγῳ, οὐ πάντῃ ἄπιστα φαίνεται. For my part I cannot gather whether the Theban Dionysus, starting from Thebes or from the Lydian Tmolus, led an army against the Indians, after assailing so many warlike peoples, unknown to the Greeks of that time, and yet subduing none of them by force but the Indians; still, one must not be a precise critic of ancient legends that concern the divine. For things which are incredible if you consider them on the basis of probability appear not wholly incredible, when one adds the divine element to the story.

 73 On Alexander’s use of Dionysus as a means to control both his men and the natives, see Mederer 1936, 97–107; Goukowsky 1978; Seibert 1994, 204–206; Bosworth 1996a, 121–126 and 1996b passim; Dreyer 2009, 219–221; Worthington 2014, 238–239. 74 For instance, the thunder and lightning during the night that followed Alexander’s undoing of the Gordian knot functions as a divine confirmation of the fulfillment of the wagon’s oracle that Alexander will rule Asia (2.3.8); Darius’ decision to transfer his army from Sochi to Issus is considered by Arrian to be the manifestation of the divine will which wanted Darius to be succeeded by Alexander (2.6.6–7); Arrian confirms the Macedonians’ belief that they were guided by the gods on their way through the desert to the oasis of Siwah (3.3.6).

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At the end of the Nysa account Arrian again clarifies to the reader that he does not embrace Eratosthenes’ conclusion that all supernatural stories about Alexander were the product of Macedonian propaganda and that he prefers to stand somewhere in the middle (5.3.4): ἐμοὶ δ’ ἐν μέσῳ κείσθων οἱ ὑπὲρ τούτων λόγοι. As far as I am concerned, the stories about these things must rest open.

Arrian’s refusal to doubt Dionysus’ visit to India reflects merely his own piety and not his agreement with Alexander’s claim that he had superseded the god. This is apparent in the fact that he explicitly uncloaks the Macedonian propaganda, for which in this case those responsible are not some flatterers or the Macedonians but Alexander himself. When he relates Alexander’s reaction to the news that Nysa was said to have been founded by Dionysus, Arrian writes (5.2.1): καὶ ταῦτα πάντα Ἀλεξάνδρῳ πρὸς θυμοῦ ἐγίγνετο ἀκούειν καὶ ἤθελε πιστὰ εἶναι τὰ ὑπὲρ τοῦ Διονύσου τῆς πλάνης μυθευόμενα· καὶ κτίσμα εἶναι Διονύσου τὴν Νῦσαν ἤθελεν, ὡς ἤδη τε ἥκειν αὐτὸς ἔνθα ἦλθε Διόνυσος καὶ ἐπέκεινα ἐλθεῖν Διονύσου· οὐδ’ ἂν Μακεδόνας τὸ πρόσω ἀπαξιῶσαι συμπονεῖν οἱ ἔτι κατὰ ζῆλον τῶν Διονύσου ἔργων. To hear all this was congenial to Alexander and he wanted to believe the tale about the wandering of Dionysus; he also wanted Nysa to be founded by Dionysus, in which case he had already reached the point Dionysus reached, and would go even further. He also thought that the Macedonians would not refuse to join him in still further efforts, in emulation of Dionysus’ achievements.

Again, as in the account of Aornus, Arrian presents Alexander as instigating the propaganda that could justify his deification,75 a central subject of the digression of ch. 4.8–14. At this point, some thoughts should be expressed as to why Arrian located the account of Nysa at the beginning of Book V. Stadter wonders “why Arrian chose to present so fully this incredible episode”,76 and Bosworth, although accepting that “the digression accordingly looks both forward and backward” with regard to Alexander’s emulation of Heracles and Dionysus, concludes that its main function lies in that “it makes a colorful and exotic opening to a section of the campaign history celebrated for its exotica (cf. 4.3–4) and whets the reader’s appetite for what is to follow”.77  75 Montgomery 1965, 177. 76 Stadter 1980, 218 n. 72. 77 HCA II, 197, following Stadter 1980, 84–85.

46  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Yet, the digression offers a much darker shade to Alexander’s portrait than Bosworth believed. The Nysa narrative is a prelude not only to the later cases of Alexander’s competitiveness towards Heracles and Dionysus, but also to all the ensuing passages on Alexander’s arrogance. In a different way from the division of works such as those of Herodotus or Thucydides, the division of the Anabasis into seven books was not made by later scholars but by Arrian himself.78 Now, if we pay close attention to the opening parts of each book of the Anabasis, we can easily recognize their introductory role. The first book begins with Alexander’s campaigns in Europe, a narrative that introduces themes which will recur and thereby make the whole history cohere. In a similar way, in the opening chapters of Book II Arrian addresses the war in the Aegean and the efforts of the Persians to transfer the war to Greece in concert with Sparta. These chapters serve as the prism through which Arrian invites us to comprehend the purpose of Alexander’s activities in Phoenicia, especially in Tyre.79 In Book VII, the presentation of various opinions on Alexander’s plans for the continuation of the campaign and the atemporal accumulation of the anecdotes on Alexander’s affairs with the Brahmins, Diogenes, and Calanus prepare us for certain aspects of the thematic orientation of the book, such as Alexander’s love for exploring the world, and his lack of moderation.80 The Nysa account has a similar role in the reading of Books V and VI. The main narrative of the campaign in India in essence begins only in ch. 8. First in Book V comes Alexander’s visit to Nysa, followed by the digression on the rivers and geography of India. These two units create the framework within which the following events will unfold; and if the geographical chapters draw the map upon which the Macedonian army will march,81 then the story of Nysa predisposes the reader for the atmosphere in which Alexander’s aspirations will unfold in Books V and VI – an atmosphere of greed and arrogant blindness. Arrian’s account of how Alexander took advantage of the stories about Heracles and Dionysus should be examined in relation to the king’s speech at the bank of the Hyphasis, in which he tries to convince his army not to give up on the campaign in India (5.25.3–26.8). Alexander is presented as using the examples of Heracles and Dionysus in his argumentation. He urges his soldiers by saying that

 78 Schwartz RE II, 1, cols. 1236–1238; Stadter 1980, 78. 79 See, contra, Stadter 1980, 78. 80 On the introductory role of the digression, cf. Stadter 1980, 86, who also mentions some additional themes (success – death). 81 Stadter 1980, 110; HCA I, 227–230; AAA II, 462; Burliga 2013, 113.

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their feats have made them more famous than even the two gods (5.26.5–6). Arrian describes how irrational and weak these arguments sounded to the exhausted and dispirited soldiers (5.27.1 and 28.1–2), encouraging us to compare the king’s words with his promise to his men before the battle of Issus that the battle would bring an end to their labors (2.7.6). At the Hyphasis, Alexander is presented as asking his men to continue fighting forever because this would make them more famous than the gods (5.26.1). The king is presented not only as breaking – or, more accurately, as having forgotten – the promise he made in his speech before the battle of Issus, but also as now aiming to conquer the whole world. All this is telling with regard to the interaction of the comments with the unfolding narrative. The rhetorical way in which Alexander uses Heracles and Dionysus in his effort to convince his soldiers vividly exemplifies Arrian’s comments in the accounts of Aornus and Nysa.82 Furthermore, the plot development in these segments of the work fulfills Arrian’s foreshadowing comment in the digression of Book IV that Anaxarchus’ flattery would encourage the king’s arrogance towards the gods (4.9.8–9). It also fits well with Arrian’s assertion in the epilogue of the Anabasis that Alexander took advantage of his deification and emulation of the gods in order to control his subjects including the Macedonians (7.29.3).

. Alexander and the barbarians .. Marching against the peoples of Europe: the great conqueror’s debut The shift from pure praise to a more critical stance is also discernible in the way Arrian treats the peoples confronted by Alexander. In what follows, it will be argued that while in Books I–III the function of the information on these peoples’ thoughts, motivations, and cultures is confined to stressing Alexander’s virtues, in Books IV–VI the same information contributes to the delineation of a more critical portrait of Alexander. Alexander’s first encounter with a hostile people in the Anabasis comes in his battle against the autonomous Thracians in Mount Haemus (1.1.6–13). In order to enter the land of the Triballi, Alexander had to put his men’s endurance to the test by leading them through the rough paths of Mount Haemus. However,

 82 See the almost opposite conclusions of Stadter 1980, 84–85. But see HCA II, 349–350; AAA II, 511. On Alexander’s speech on the banks of the Hyphasis as proof that he used Heracles as a means to convince his men to follow him, see Reinmuth 1941, 122–123.

48  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism the true difficulty for the Macedonians in this episode lay not in the hostile natural environment but in its inhabitants, the Thracians. Determined to block Alexander’s way and knowledgeable about the mountain, they gathered at the most impregnable point of the path which was climbed by the Macedonians. Their plan was to launch carts at the Macedonian phalanx as the troops mounted the slope. Alexander, however, ordered his men to step aside to the left and right edges of the path as soon as they could see the carts rolling towards them, so that the carts passed by them through the gap in the middle of the phalanx. Moreover, those soldiers who were unable to move off the path quickly enough were instructed to fall to the ground and link their shields together so that the carts would bounce over them without harming them. Alexander’s plan was successful and the Macedonians won the battle. We are here at a stage of the work where Arrian’s penetration into the inner world of a people is aimed not to focus on them but to highlight Alexander’s insight, as will continue to be the case until Book III.83 In particular, the reader is oriented towards Alexander’s ability to execute a plan successfully, his concern for the safety of his army, and the positive emotional effect of his strategic skills on the morale of his soldiers. Through shifting focalization, Arrian penetrates firstly into the plan of the Thracians in order only to expose it as unfeasible (1.1.9): “The event corresponded to Alexander’s advice and conjecture.” The king’s foresight is also reflected in close cross-references between his predictions and the eventual outcome of the battle (1.1.8–10: Alexander’s order: τούτους δὲ διαχωρῆσαι // outcome: διέσχον τὴν φάλαγγα; Alexander’s order: τὰς ἁμάξας … ὑπερπηδώσας ἀβλαβῶς ἐπελθεῖν // outcome: αἱ δ’ ὑπὲρ τῶν ἀσπίδων ἐπικυλισθεῖσαι ὀλίγα ἔβλαψαν). The final stage of the battle, resulting in the victory of the Macedonians, is introduced by the sentence, “The Macedonians now took heart”, which is presented in this way as the result of the soldiers’ enthusiasm about Alexander’s skilful planning.84 Alexander’s successful insight also dominates the following description of the battle against the Triballi at the river Lyginus (1.2). Their thoughts are nothing but a means for Arrian to reflect on Alexander’s strategic qualities, since no real interest in the Triballi themselves can be discerned. In this case, Alexander’s task is to place a decoy for his enemies in the open battlefield, outside the safety of the forest where they had camped, as a reinforcement for his men. He orders his bowmen and slingers to attack the Triballi and to provoke them. The Triballi act just as Alexander had predicted, and once again the barbarians’ deeds simply  83 Stadter 1980, 91–92. 84 Montgomery 1965, 165 n. 9.

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confirm Alexander’s predictions. The following verbal echoes are discernible between his plan and the development of the battle (1.2.4–5: Alexander’s order: εἴ πως προκαλέσαιτο αὐτοὺς ἐς τὰ ψιλὰ ἐκ τοῦ νάπους // outcome: ὡς προήγαγεν αὐτοὺς ἐκ τῆς νάπης ἔξω). In the following chapters, we read of the crossing of the river Istrus, the unsuccessful attempt against the city of Peuce, and the occupation of the Getae’s city (1.3.1–4.5). The unit on the Getae introduces some aspects of the king, such as the swiftness with which he covers great and harsh distances, his love for exploration and desire to discover new places, and his ability to cross sizable rivers.85 The narrative unfolds in a ring-compositional structure (1.3.1 // 1.4.5) in order to stress the significance of the crossing of the Istrus. The opening paragraphs serve as almost an encomium of the biggest river in Europe (1.3.1–2). Within the framework of these paragraphs the only information we get about the thoughts and emotions of the Getae is their surprise at the fact that Alexander crossed the Istrus so quickly (1.4.3), their reaction serving merely as a first inkling for the reader of the crossings of the rivers that will be found in the rest of the Anabasis.86 The last episode of this group concerns Clitus’ Taulantians, who were confronted by Alexander in the area between the city of Pellium and the river Eordaicus (1.5.5–6.11). In summary, Clitus, followed by his forces and the Taulantians with their king Glaucias, fled to Pellium. Alexander reached the city and wanted to besiege it, but the geographical makeup of the area did not allow him to do so. This narrative thus stands poised, as Arrian creates suspense for the reader as to whether Alexander will manage to save his men. The latter are thus moreover turned from besiegers to besieged between the inhabitants of Pellium and the Taulantians of the mountains. Arrian forces the reader to observe with particular interest the route of the Macedonian army to its salvation, and the suspense that the reader experiences magnifies Alexander’s achievement even more. This is the first time in the Anabasis that one feels the imposing presence of the Macedonian phalanx,87 and the description of the Taulantians’ actions serves to further stress  85 The crossing of the Istrus introduces all the following river crossings in the Anabasis (1.11.4 Strymon and Hebrus; 1.11.5 Melas; 1.13.6 Granicus; 1.24.4 Xanthus; 3.1.3 Nile; 3.6.1 bridging of the Nile; 3.7.1 bridging of the Euphrates; 3.29.2–6 Oxus; 3.30.6–9 Tanais; 4.23.2 Choes; 4.25.7 Guraeus; 5.4.3 and 5.7 Indus; 5.20.8–21.1 Acesines; 6.4.4–5.4 confluence of the Hydaspes and the Acesines; 6.14.4 confluence of the Hydraotes and the Acesines; 6.14.4–5 confluence of the Acesines and the Indus and recapitulation on the rivers of India). 86 In the short run, the emphasis on the crossing of the Istrus also aimed to compensate for Alexander’s failure at Peuce (1.3.3). 87 On Arrian’s focus on the Macedonian phalanx in the chapters on Alexander’s campaigns in 335 BC, see Stadter 1981, 162–163.

50  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism the Macedonians’ power. When the Macedonians march from Pellium to the river Eordaicus, the barbarians, astonished by the order, discipline, war cries, and sound of spears falling on the Macedonian shields, dare not attack them. A vivid depiction, both in its visual and auditory elements, helps the reader identify herself with the barbarians and experience the same feeling of awe and admiration for the perfectly organized army that moves under Alexander’s orchestration. Once again, the barbarians’ thoughts and feelings are focused not on themselves but on Alexander and the Macedonians. At this point, it is worth mentioning a particular aspect of this account which distinguishes it from the rest of Arrian’s narrative and renders it particularly important for our comparison between the two parts of the Anabasis. Although, as far as the Thracians and the Triballi are concerned, we read only of their feelings, in this case an additional emphasis is placed upon the character of Alexander’s opponents. In the Anabasis, Arrian rarely sheds light on the feelings, thoughts, and character of the peoples conquered by Alexander. Their thoughts mostly pertain to the tactics concerning how to confront the Macedonians,88 while the only feelings to be described are surprise and fear when faced with the power and bravery of the Macedonians.89 Still, surprise and fear on the part of Alexander’s enemies do not help us to penetrate deeply into their own mentality but, rather, reflect the qualities and abilities of Alexander and his Macedonians. However, in the siege of Pellium, the depiction of the behavior of Alexander’s enemies invites the reader to evaluate the character of the enemies in the following short scene (1.5.7): Ἀλέξανδρος μὲν δὴ τῇ πόλει προσῆγεν· οἱ δὲ πολέμιοι σφαγιασάμενοι παῖδας τρεῖς καὶ κόρας ἴσας τὸν ἀριθμὸν καὶ κριοὺς μέλανας τρεῖς, ὥρμηντο μὲν ὡς δεξόμενοι ἐς χεῖρας τοὺς Μακεδόνας· ὁμοῦ δὲ γενομένων ἐξέλιπον καίτοι καρτερὰ ὄντα τὰ κατειλημμένα πρὸς σφῶν χωρία, ὥστε καὶ τὰ σφάγια αὐτῶν κατελήφθη ἔτι κείμενα.

 88 1.1.6–7; 1.2.5; 1.3.5; 1.6.7; 1.6.9; 1.14.5; 1.15.4; 1.19.6–7; 1.19.9; 1.20.9; 1.22.6; 1.26.5; 1.27.2; 2.10.6–7; 2.16.7; 2.19.1–4; 2.20.7–8; 2.21.3; 2.21.8; 3.11.1; 3.13.5; 3.15.2; 4.3.6; 4.15.7; 4.25.7; 4.30.2; 5.22.1; 5.23.6; 6.4.3; 6.6.3; 6.6.5; 6.8.4; 6.11.3; 6.22.1. 89 Both surprise and fear: 1.4.3; awe and surprise: 1.6.3–4; awe: 5.1.4; fear: 1.6.8; 1.6.10; 1.22.6; 2.20.3; 3.11.1–2; 3.14.3; 3.18.7–9; 4.1.5; 4.25.7; 4.30.4; 5.24.7; 6.9.5; 6.9.6; surprise: 1.16.2; 1.19.10; 1.27.3; 2.20.7; 3.17.5; 4.4.4; 4.26.4; 4.30.2; 6.3.4; courage: 1.22.3; 4.16.5; 4.26.1; 4.26.3. Both surprise and fear are permanent features in Herodotus and Thucydides too. On surprise during a battle in Herodotus, see 4.4.2; 8.94.2. On fear in Herodotus, see Baragwanath 2008, 208–212, 221– 2, 228. On fear in Thucydides, see Lang 1995; Liotsakis 2017, 27–29 and 27 nn. 26–27 with bibliography. On surprise in Thucydides, see, selectively, Finley 1942, 167–168; and 297; Stahl 1966; Edmunds 1975, 4; Tsopanakis 1986, 164–177; Flory 1988, 19; Roisman 1993; Llamosas 2001; Romilly 2003, 101–113; Desmond 2006, 361; Liotsakis 2017, 150–155.

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Alexander proceeded against this city, on which the enemy sacrificed three boys and three girls and three black rams, and advanced to close combat with the Macedonians; but once engaged, they deserted the positions they had occupied, strong as they were, so that their victims were found still lying there.

The retreat into disorder of Clitus’ men undoubtedly contributes to the delineation of Macedonian superiority. At the same time, however, it predisposes the reader against those people. The barbarity of the human sacrifice would encourage the ancient Greek or Roman reader to judge this people as uncivilized and worthy of the calamities they will suffer at their defeat by Alexander.90 Moreover, the obnoxious scene of the slaughtered youths lying deserted by their compatriots also stirs an emotional reaction in the reader’s mind, as is also the case with the portraits of the Thebans and the Tyrians. It is important to keep these examples in mind, especially in comparison with similar schemes in the second part of the Anabasis. For, as we will see, from Book IV onwards the interest in such information on the manners and customs or the feelings and mentality of the peoples opposed by Alexander will lead to diametrically opposite results. It will allow the reader to feel sympathy for those peoples and antipathy for Alexander and the Macedonians.

.. Conquering Lycia, Pamphylia, and Cilicia: a divine gift to the prudent king Alexander’s campaigns against the peoples of Europe are followed by the chapters on the destruction of Thebes and the second proem, which introduces the reader to the main subject of the work, Alexander’s march through Asia. As far as Book I is concerned, we read a march-narrative, the biggest part of which is dedicated to the battle of the Granicus, the siege and occupation of Miletus and Halicarnassus, and Alexander’s efforts to occupy the coastline of Asia Minor up to the area of Pamphylia, after his decision to disband his navy. Arrian does not pay attention to the occupation of minor cities. Throughout Book I, we find only four short references, which serve either as transitions from a central city to another or as satellite units which lead into major episodes. The first short mention of conquests lies between the sieges of Miletus and Halicarnassus (1.20.2):

 90 On the ancient Greeks’ opposition to human sacrifices from the Classical period down to the Imperial era, and on their belief that this custom was ‘barbaric’ and a feature of primitive civilizations, see Henrichs 1980; Hughes 1997, 187ff. and 253 nn. 8–9 with further earlier bibliography; Bonnechère 1994, 311–318; Steel 1995, 26; Petropoulou 2008.

52  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism ὅσαι δὲ ἐν μέσῳ πόλεις Μιλήτου τε καὶ Ἁλικαρνασσοῦ, ταύτας ἐξ ἐφόδου λαβών […]. He captured on the march the cities between Miletus and Halicarnassus.

The second belongs to a list of campaigns along the coastline that aimed to annihilate the Persian navy (1.24.4): καὶ πρῶτον μὲν ἐν παρόδῳ Ὕπαρνα, χωρίον ὀχυρόν, φυλακὴν ἔχον ξένους μισθοφόρους, ἐξ ἐφόδου ἔλαβεν. οἱ δ’ ἐκ τῆς ἄκρας ξένοι ὑπόσπονδοι ἐξῆλθον. On his route [to Lycia and Pamphylia] he first took in his stride Hyparna, a strong place with a mercenary garrison; the mercenaries received terms and marched out of the citadel.

The third reference concerns the unsuccessful attempt to conquer Syllium (1.26.5), an event which is overshadowed by the main subject of the narrative at that point, the siege of Aspendus. Last, we have a reference as an epilogue to the episode of Sagalassus (1.28.8): Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ ἐπὶ τοὺς ἄλλους Πισίδας ἦγε· καὶ τὰ μέν τινα τῶν φρουρίων βίᾳ ἐξεῖλε, τὰ δὲ ὁμολογίᾳ προσηγάγετο. Then Alexander attacked the remaining Pisidians, captured some of their forts and received the surrender of others.

The distinctive feature of these references in terms of their contribution to the portraits of both Alexander and the conquered populations is that, due to their brevity, they contain absolutely no information on these peoples. Arrian’s silence in these cases has multiple functions concerning the way that the reader receives, evaluates, and reacts to these conquests on an emotional and moral level. The omission of the feelings of those peoples deprives the reader of the opportunity to pity or sympathize with them. Furthermore, the absence of any detail on the culture of these peoples thwarts any efforts at judging, either positively or negatively, Alexander’s imperialistic activity in those areas. As a result, the reader is forced to approach these nations in an impersonal way. The conquered are nothing but inanimate place names, merely parts in a well-conducted plan to occupy Western Asia and to weaken the Persian navy.91

 91 A plan which Heckel (2009a, 31), borrowing from Arrian’s account, characterizes as “a wise strategic move and an economic blessing”. For Alexander’s naval strategy along the coastline of Asia Minor, see Heckel 2009a, 30–35; Müller 2014, 206–214; Worthington 2014, 150–162; Lehmann 2015, 116–121.

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Moreover, the plan itself or, to be more precise, the way in which Alexander is described as conceiving it, reflects not only Arrian’s indifference towards the negative impact of this plan on the lives of the conquered, but also his effort to make us embrace this plan as a manifestation of divine will. It was during the siege of Miletus that Alexander realized that he must disband his navy, and one of the reasons for this was an omen he received. Arrian composes a debate between Parmenio and Alexander on whether the Macedonian fleet, on the occasion of the siege of Miletus, should fight the Persian triremes or not. Apart from the rational part of his argument, Parmenio also uses an incident that took place during that period (1.18.6): καί τι καὶ θεῖον ἀνέπειθεν αὐτόν, ὅτι ἀετὸς ὤφθη καθήμενος ἐπὶ τοῦ αἰγιαλοῦ κατὰ πρύμναν τῶν Ἀλεξάνδρου νεῶν. […] and in particular he used an omen to persuade him: an eagle had been seen perching on the shore astern of Alexander’s ships.

Alexander, on the contrary, refuses to fight a battle for the following reasons: If he loses (which in his opinion is the most likely result), the Greeks will be encouraged to bring the war to Greece in cooperation with the Persians. But he also (1.18.9): τὸ θεῖον δὲ αὐτὸς ἄλλῃ ἐξηγεῖσθαι· εἶναι μὲν γὰρ πρὸς αὑτοῦ τὸν ἀετόν, ἀλλ’ ὅτι ἐπὶ γῇ καθήμενος ἐφαίνετο, δοκεῖν οἱ μᾶλλόν τι σημαίνειν, ὅτι ἐκ γῆς κρατήσει τοῦ Περσῶν ναυτικοῦ. interpreted the omen differently: the eagle was indeed on his side but, since it was seen sitting on land, it rather meant (he thought) that he would beat the Persian fleet from the land.

The argumentation of the two men appeals to both reason and the divine element and, in order to interpret Arrian’s goals in this episode, we should not underplay either of them. As far as Alexander’s calculations go, the subsequent chapters confirm his foresight on a rational level. After capturing Miletus, Alexander sent a part of his fleet to Mycale under the command of Philotas, so as to prevent the Persian ships from landing there (1.19.8). The Persians, οἱ δέ, ὕδατός τε σπάνει καὶ τῶν ἄλλων ἐπιτηδείων οὐδὲν ἄλλο ὅτι μὴ πολιορκούμενοι ἐν ταῖς ναυσίν, ἐς Σάμον ἀπέπλευσαν. from want of water and other necessities, were as good as besieged in their ships, and sailed off to Samos.

54  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism This incident has an exemplary role, offering the reader a first idea of the soundness of Alexander’s strategy along the coastline of Asia Minor, as is described in the ensuing narrative until the end of Book II. Arrian also reminds the reader of the supernatural dimension of the occupation of these areas (1.20.1): Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ καταλῦσαι ἔγνω τὸ ναυτικὸν […]. καὶ τὸν ἀετὸν ταύτῃ συνέβαλλεν, ὅτι ἐσήμηνεν αὐτῷ ἐκ τῆς γῆς κρατήσειν τῶν νεῶν. Alexander now decided to disband his navy […]. This was what he took the eagle to mean; he was to overcome the ships from dry land.

The conquests of the cities between Miletus and Halicarnassus are thus presented as being part of the rational and god-sent plan. What is more, the operations in Hyparna are explicitly associated with the overall policy (1.24.3–4). Arrian is not only indifferent to the peoples that suffer from Alexander’s imperialism but he also induces the reader to feel satisfaction at the fate of these peoples and to consider it as proof of the view that Alexander was destined by the gods to rule Asia. It is equally hard for someone to engage emotionally or morally with the occupation of some of the peoples in Book II. The events that receive the lion’s share of attention in this book are the Persians’ efforts to transfer the war to the Aegean, the battle of Issus, the siege of Tyre and the capture of Gaza. In ch. 2.5.6, Arrian very briefly writes: ἔνθεν δὲ ἀναλαβὼν τῶν μὲν πεζῶν τῶν Μακεδόνων τρεῖς τάξεις, τοὺς τοξότας δὲ πάντας καὶ τοὺς Ἀγριᾶνας ἐξελαύνει ἐπὶ τοὺς τὰ ὄρη κατέχοντας Κίλικας. καὶ ἐν ἑπτὰ ταῖς πάσαις ἡμέραις τοὺς μὲν βίᾳ ἐξελών, τοὺς δὲ ὁμολογίᾳ παραστησάμενος ἐπανῆκεν ἐς τοὺς Σόλους. From there he took three battalions of the Macedonian infantry, all the archers, and the Agrianians, and marched against the Cilicians holding the heights. In no more than seven days he drove some of them out, induced others to enter into agreements, and returned to Soli.

This short reference belongs to a march-narrative that covers Alexander’s route from Gordium to Issus (2.4–7). The account in these chapters unfolds at a quick pace by recounting a series of moves from city to city (Ancyra, Cappadocia, Cilician Gates, Tarsus, Anchialus, Soli, Magarsus, Mallus). One of Arrian’s main purposes at this point is to explain to the reader why it took Alexander so long to meet Darius at Sochi, which induced Darius to make the decisive mistake of transferring his army to Issus. The campaigns of the Macedonian king in the Cilician heights are mentioned only as a part of Arrian’s explanation for Alexander’s delay. Even if we look for implicit messages in this narrative, we find nothing about

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the mentality and morality of the Cilicians. By means of the fast narrative pace, Arrian merely stresses, if anything, Alexander’s rapidity. A similar case, with regard to both style and the contraction of narrative time is found in ch. 2.20.4–5: ἐν ᾧ δὲ αἵ τε μηχαναὶ αὐτῷ ξυνεπήγνυντο καὶ αἱ νῆες ὡς εἰς ἐπίπλουν τε καὶ ναυμαχίας ἀπόπειραν ἐξηρτύοντο, ἐν τούτῳ δὲ ἀναλαβὼν τῶν τε ἱππέων ἴλας ἔστιν ἃς καὶ τοὺς ὑπασπιστὰς καὶ τοὺς Ἀγριᾶνάς τε καὶ τοὺς τοξότας ἐπ’ Ἀραβίας στέλλεται εἰς τὸν Ἀντιλίβανον καλούμενον τὸ ὄρος· καὶ τὰ μὲν βίᾳ τῶν ταύτῃ ἐξελών, τὰ δὲ ὁμολογίᾳ παραστησάμενος ἐν δέκα ἡμέραις ἐπανῆγεν ἐς τὴν Σιδῶνα […]. While his engines were being fitted together, and his ships were being equipped for attack and for trying the issue of a naval battle, Alexander marched with some of the cavalry squadrons, the hypaspists, the Agrianians and the archers in the direction of Arabia to the mountain called Antilebanon. Here he stormed and destroyed some places and brought others to terms; in ten days he was back at Sidon […].

Arrian’s brevity deprives us of the opportunity not only to learn about the Arabs but also to understand the close connection between the campaigns in Arabia and the siege of Tyre. Curtius Rufus (4.3.1–11) links the two subjects and relates that the district between Lebanon and Antilebanon provided Alexander with timber for the construction of the engines used during the siege of Tyre.92 Moreover, he focuses not on the vehemence of the Macedonians, as Arrian did, but on the problems the Arabs caused for the Macedonians by capturing thirty of them and killing some others. The traditional view that Curtius draws, just as Diodorus does, from Cleitarchus, whose text Arrian did not have at his disposal,93 does not suffice to explain Arrian’s silence on this occasion. For, as Plutarch informs us, the affairs in Arabia had also been documented by other historians as well, such as Chares of Mytilene, who focuses on Alexander’s difficulties there in more anecdotal and encomiastic tones (Plu. Alex. 24.10–14 = FGrH 125 F7). Given that Arrian had very probably read Chares’ text,94 we cannot exclude the possibility that Arrian’s brevity is not so much attributable to a lack of sources but to his intention to present the campaigns as easier than they had been, and not to deviate from his main interest in those chapters, the siege of Tyre. The Cilicians and the Arabs are used merely as impersonal data for the sake of praising Alexander.

 92 Most scholars place Curtius’ History of Alexander before the Anabasis. See e.g. Stadter 1980, 62 and 211 n. 12. 93 On the traditional view of the ‘vulgate’ tradition vs. Arrian, see Brunt 1976, xx–xxi and xxi n. 12 with further bibliography; Bosworth 1988a, 8–14; AAA I, XXX n. 3 with further bibliography. 94 So Bosworth 1988a, 64 n. 17. See, contra, Brunt 1976, 536.

56  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism .. Uxians, Mardi, Cossaeans: Alexander the civilizing hero In Book III, Arrian arranges his narration on the basis of four thematic axes: (a) Alexander’s presence in Egypt; (b) the battle of Gaugamela; (c) the chase of Darius; and (d) Alexander’s attitude towards the traitors of Darius. The first half of the book (Egypt, Gaugamela) is dedicated mainly to the king’s decisions on the administration of Egypt and Phoenicia, while it ends in the battle description of Gaugamela. In these chapters, there are no references to conquests or battles with other peoples. By contrast, in the second part of the book we find four such cases, two of which are particularly illuminating on the comparison of the two halves of the Anabasis. To begin with the less important ones, we read of the conquest of the Paraetacae (3.19.2), which Arrian avoids in order not to interrupt the rapid pace of the narrative, a choice which also implicitly shines a light on the intensity with which Alexander pursues Darius. The other reference, which is slightly longer than the previous one, concerns the victory of the Macedonians against the Sogdians in Maracanda, an episode aimed at highlighting Alexander’s endurance even when he is injured (3.30.10–11). The two examples that create solid contrasts with the last four books are ch. 3.17.1–6 on the Uxians and ch. 3.24.1–3 on the Mardi. These cases differ from the chapters on the Scythians in Book IV in terms of the way in which Arrian uses certain information concerning the culture and poverty of a people. These three examples (Uxians, Mardi, and Scythians) are the only ones in the Anabasis where Arrian refers to the poverty of a nation confronted by Alexander. In the Uxians’ case, at the end of the episode, Arrian discusses their poverty merely to explain to the reader why the annual tax imposed upon them by Alexander was imposed only in the form of horses, flocks and herds, and transport animals (3.17.6). This information, placed at the end of the account, does not affect the reader’s emotions during the reading of the episode. Not only does Arrian not stimulate our compassion for the Uxians but he also aims to entertain us through a scornful account of their misfortune. Alexander is trying to cross their land in his pursuit of Darius. The Uxians traditionally had control of this area and the Persian kings always paid them for the right to cross their land. The Uxians thus warn Alexander that they will not let him pass if he does not offer them what was prescribed. Alexander sent them away, ordering them to go to the pass where they were usually paid. They therefore gathered at the pass in full force, in the belief that Alexander would indeed pay them, but he took them by surprise, plundered their villages, killed many of them and thereby subdued them. The end of this narrative finds the Uxians begging to pay Alexander an annual tax in order

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to be allowed to continue living in their area. Arrian comments ironically at the end of the account (3.17.6): ταῦτα τὰ γέρα παρ’ Ἀλεξάνδρου λαβόντες [...]. These were the gifts of honor they received from Alexander.

The Uxians’ role is confined to helping the reader focus on some constant motifs of Arrian’s portrait of Alexander, such as his invincibility, his ability to execute a plan successfully, and his penchant for surprising his enemy. Most importantly, the reader is invited to make a comparison between the Persian kings, who had been obliged to pay the Uxians to pass through this area, and Alexander who defeated them. Arrian remains equally untouched by the Mardi. In this case, he informs us of their poverty at the beginning of the episode. The Mardi were poor yet very skillful fighters, which is why no one ever entered their harsh land. This is also the reason why they did not expect Alexander to dare confront them. However, unlike the Persian rulers, Alexander not only succeeded in crossing their impregnable woody hideouts but also forced them to surrender (3.24.1–3). Arrian’s indifference to the Uxians and the Mardi should be examined in relation to the Cossaeans in Book VII. In this episode, Alexander, shortly after Hephaestion’s death, enters the mountainous territory of the Cossaeans. Arrian informs us that they were brigands, warriors, and neighbors of the Uxians. They lived in the mountains, where they hid when they were attacked by enemies. As soon as the danger had passed, they continued making a living through brigandage. Alexander confronted them in wintertime, an event Arrian takes advantage of in order to praise Alexander’s and Ptolemy’s military and strategic skills (7.15.1–3). Arrian’s cold attitude towards the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans is explained in ch. 40.6–8 of his Indikē, where, drawing from Nearchus (cf. Str. 11.13.6, p. 524C.17–23), he writes that Alexander, by conquering those peoples, civilized them. He built cities for them and turned them from nomads and brigands into farmers and peasants (ὅτε ἄβατον σφῶν τὴν χώραν ἦγον; πόληας ἐπέκτισε; καὶ ὑπὲρ ὅτων δειμαίνοντες μὴ κακὰ ἀλλήλους ἐργάσονται; τοῦ μὴ νομάδας … ἀλλὰ ἀροτῆρας καὶ γῆς ἐργάτας). In Arrian’s view, the conquest of those peoples clearly portrays Alexander as a civilizing hero. In his speech at Opis (7.9.2–3), Alexander builds a similar picture of Philip’s civilizing influence on the Macedonians, and does so through the use of similar vocabulary (μὴ χωρίων ἔτι ὀχυρότητι πιστεύοντας μᾶλλον … ἀνὰ τὰ ὄρη; κατήγαγε δὲ ἐκ τῶν ὀρῶν ἐς τὰ πεδία; πόλεών τε οἰκήτορας ἀπέφηνε; καὶ ὑπὲρ τούτων … Θρᾳξίν; πλανήτας καὶ

58  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism ἀπόρους; ἐκόσμησεν). The pattern is also found, again with the same wording, in Ind. 7.2–8.1, this time on how Dionysus subdued and thereby civilized the Indians (οὔτε πόληας οἰκέοντες … πόληάς τε οἰκίσαι; νομάδας εἶναι Ἰνδούς … τοὺς οὐκ ἀροτῆρας; πλανώμενοι; σπείρειν διδάξαι τὴν γῆν; ἀροτῆρας ἀντὶ νομάδων). For Arrian, the conquests of the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans prove that Alexander was a worthy successor to Dionysus and his father in spreading and establishing civilization.95 Although in the three descriptions of those peoples in the Anabasis there is no explicit statement of this fact, as there is for Philip and Dionysus, the praise for ‘Alexander the cultural hero’ is inferred by the recurring verbal and thematic echoes of the three portraits of the cultural heroes just mentioned. The main themes are the following: (a) a mountainous people is transferred to the flat countryside; (b) the uncivilized people base their security on the inaccessibility and ruggedness of their territory, and not on their political organization or military virtue; and (c) the antithesis between brigandage/nomadic life and agriculture.96 In the narratives of the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans these elements are always present. Arrian distinguishes the obedient Uxians of the plains from the intractable Uxian highlanders (3.17.1: Οὐξίων δὲ οἱ μὲν τὰ πεδία οἰκοῦντες … οἱ δὲ ὄρειοι καλούμενοι Οὔξιοι). The Uxians of the mountains are not afraid, not because of their virtue but because of the cragginess of their dens (3.17.4–5). As soon as Alexander occupies these places, they flee. After seven chapters, the Mardi, who are elsewhere deemed by Arrian as entirely untrustworthy (Parth. F87), are presented as acting in exactly the same way as the Uxians. Similarly, we read of the Cossaeans that they are brigands, mountaineers who depend on the inhospitability of their hideouts (7.15.2). Arrian, of course, is drawing, here as elsewhere, from the historical tradition of Alexander, which approached the conquests of these three peoples as reflections of ‘Alexander the cultural hero’. We have already seen that Arrian’s viewpoint (as well as Strabo’s) is drawn from Nearchus. Accordingly, Curtius (5.6.17– 20) and Plutarch (Alex. 72.4; cf. Polyaen. 4.3.31) treat the Mardi and the Cossaeans respectively as animals hunted by Alexander, while Diodorus also mentions the primitiveness of the Cossaeans and the ruggedness of their territory (19.19.2ff.) as well as that of the Uxians (19.17.3).

 95 See, further, General Conclusions, p. 236. 96 This pattern of social evolution is found also in Plato (Lg. 677b-678c). See Wüst 1953, 178– 179. On Alexander as a cultural hero in passages other than those examined here, see Brown 1949, 226; Brunt 1977, 45–46 on this theme in Plu. De Alex. fort. 327d; 328a; 329c–d; 330c–e; 332a– c; Bosworth 1988a, 108–109.

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.. The Scythians’ justice vs. Alexander’s vanity The shift in Arrian’s attitude towards Alexander’s aspirations is discernible again from the very opening lines of Book IV. In the first four chapters, Arrian draws our attention to the Scythians, whose presentation differs from what we have already seen in the first books. This is so especially in the cases of the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans with regard to: (a) the exploitation of one people’s culture; (b) the oracle narratives; and (c) the ‘Beinahe’ episodes. Book IV begins as follows (4.1.1–2): οὐ πολλαῖς δὲ ἡμέραις ὕστερον ἀφικνοῦνται παρ’ Ἀλέξανδρον πρέσβεις παρά τε Σκυθῶν τῶν Ἀβίων καλουμένων, (οὓς καὶ Ὅμηρος δικαιοτάτους ἀνθρώπους εἰπὼν ἐν τῇ ποιήσει ἐπῄνεσεν· οἰκοῦσι δὲ ἐν τῇ Ἀσίᾳ οὗτοι αὐτόνομοι, οὐχ ἥκιστα διὰ πενίαν τε καὶ δικαιότητα) καὶ παρὰ τῶν ἐκ τῆς Εὐρώπης Σκυθῶν, οἳ δὴ τὸ μέγιστον ἔθνος [Σκυθικὸν] ἐν τῇ Εὐρώπῃ ἐποικοῦσιν. καὶ τούτοις ξυμπέμπει Ἀλέξανδρος τῶν ἑταίρων, πρόφασιν μὲν κατὰ πρεσβείαν φιλίαν ξυνθησομένους, ὁ δὲ νοῦς τῆς πομπῆς ἐς κατασκοπήν τι μᾶλλον ἔφερε φύσεώς τε τῆς χώρας τῆς Σκυθικῆς καὶ πλήθους αὐτῶν καὶ νομαίων καὶ ὁπλίσεως, ἥντινα ἔχοντες στέλλονται ἐς τὰς μάχας. Not many days later, envoys came to Alexander from the Abian Scythians, as they are called, whom Homer praised in his epic by calling them ‘most just of men’; they live in Asia, and are independent, chiefly through their poverty and their sense of justice. Envoys came too from the European Scythians, the largest nation dwelling Europe. Alexander sent some of the Companions with them, pretending it was an embassy to conclude a friendly agreement; but the idea of the mission was rather to spy out the nature of the Scythians’ land, their numbers, their customs and the arms they use on their warlike expeditions.

At first sight, this opening comment on the Scythians’ poverty seems to function in the same way as Arrian’s introduction of the Mardi and the Uxians. Poverty appears here as a reason why the Scythians have been able to remain autonomous. The logic is that they were not a lure for the Persian kings, since conquering them would not result in any significant financial profits in the form of annual compensation. However, in characterizing them as just, Arrian obviously treats the Scythians in a more positive way than he does the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans. Furthermore, as Stadter points out, Arrian here shapes an antithesis between the peaceful motives of the Scythian embassy and the ulterior goals of Alexander.97 Although at that moment the Scythian envoys were undoubtedly serving the territorial interests of their compatriots and their visit to Alexander was not

 97 Stadter 1980, 82–83.

60  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism motivated by a sense of justice but by fear, Arrian’s account leads us to the conclusion that Alexander planned to harm the harmless and just Scythians. In this respect, Arrian favors the Scythians and implicitly criticizes Alexander, which is by itself a striking change of attitude in comparison with the accounts on the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans. Arrian could have composed an account on the Scythians’ poverty in an equally pejorative way to the way that Curtius did on the Mardi, or in a similar vein to his own account of the Uxians’ punishment and the Cossaeans. The Scythians, although they were nomads and not brigands, could offer plentiful ammunition to those who wished to underplay them, since they were renowned in the Greco-Roman world for their brutal customs. Many classical authors, from Herodotus to the time of Arrian, focused on the Scythians’ cannibalistic customs, their ignorance of the arts, and on the fact that they drank from human skulls (memorials of their victory in battle) and used the skin of their enemies as coverings for their horses.98 Some of the first historians of Alexander who followed him on the campaign seem to have taken advantage of these ‘uncivilized’ customs of the Scythians in order to present Alexander as the cultural hero who civilized them. Although the Scythians’ territory extended mostly from the Danube to the Caspian Sea, including the areas crossed by the river Tanais (today, the Don), these historians, such as Polyclitus of Larissa, in their effort to argue that Alexander conquered these lands too, gave the river Jaxartes (today, Syr Darya) the name ‘Tanais’ and identified it with the river Don, which was assumed to be the natural border between Europe and Asia (FGrH 128 F7). In this way, Alexander’s victory over the Scythians on the banks of the Jaxartes was taken to prove that the Macedonian king conquered some parts of the area between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. Some of these first historians, such as Medius of Larissa and Cyrsilus of Pharsalus, referred to the Scythians with the epithet ἀποκεφαλιστάς (FGrH 129 F1 = FGrH 130 F1). Furthermore, Onesicritus, whose text Arrian made use of (An. 6.2.3; Ind. 3.6.; 6.8), depicts the Scythians’ neighbors around the Jaxartes, the Bactrians and Sogdians, as uncivilized. Alexander, according to Onesicritus, abolished the custom of throwing their elders alive to the dogs instead of burying them (FGrH 134 F5). The Scythians we examine in this unit were probably treated by One-

 98 Cf. e.g. Hdt. 4.1–144; Ephorus FGrH 70 F158; Plu. De Alex. fort. 334a; Philostr. Her. 751; Paradox. Vat. 47 (ed. Giannini).

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sicritus and other historians in an equally derogatory way as were their neighbors, as is suggested by Curtius’ testimony that Alexander, when attacking them, boasted that he was fighting brigands (Curt. 7.8.19).99 On the other hand, in the historical tradition of Alexander, the treatment of the Scythians by some other authors, including Arrian, was favorable. This is because the Greeks and Romans traditionally praised the Scythians for their justice, simplicity, natural life, and poverty, which symbolized, among other things, the virtuous resistance of liberty to arrogant despotism.100 In contrast to the historians mentioned above, there must also have been those who had a more critical stance towards Alexander’s campaign against the Scythians. These historians took advantage of the positive features of the Scythians and presented them as the just free men who opposed Alexander’s arrogance. These historians were followed by Arrian and Curtius Rufus.101 To conclude, Arrian’s sources offered him both negative and favorable models to follow for his own approach to the Scythians. His choice to praise them has deeper roots and must be linked to his intention to criticize Alexander in the second part of the Anabasis. Apart from the Scythians’ cultural background, the historical development itself offered Arrian the opportunity to take advantage, had he so wished, of the Scythian case as a criterion of comparison between Alexander and the Persian kings. Such a comparison could have helped Arrian highlight the military superiority of the Macedonian king over Cyrus, just as the examples of the Uxians, the

 99 Cf. Plutarch’s De Alex. fort. 328c: “But if you examine the results of Alexander’s instruction, you will see […] wondrous power of Philosophic Instruction, that brought the Indians to worship Greek gods, and the Scythians to bury their dead, not to devour them!” (Babbitt’s translation). 100 For this tradition, see the following texts: A. TrGF F198; Hor. Od. 3.24.9–11; Str. 7.3.9, p. 302C.13–303C.18 = Choerilus Epic. F3 Radici Colace; Pomponius Mela 3.36-43; D.L. 1.101; Luc. Scyth. 9. See Rostowzew 1931, 32; Nesselrath 2009, 307, 321–325, 329ff.; Gerstacker/Kuhnert/ Oldemeier/Quenouille 2015, 17. 101 Arrian’s and Curtius’ portraits of the Scythians and the subjects that both authors touch upon resemble each other at striking points, so we are justified in assuming that in this case both accounts stem from a common tradition. The similarities between Arrian and Curtius are the following: (a) Arr. An. 4.1.1: oὐ πολλαῖς δὲ ἡμέραις ὕστερον ἀφικνοῦνται παρ’ Ἀλέξανδρον πρέσβεις παρά τε Σκυθῶν τῶν Ἀβίων καλουμένων, (οὓς καὶ Ὅμηρος δικαιοτάτους ἀνθρώπους εἰπὼν ἐν τῇ ποιήσει ἐπῄνεσεν· οἰκοῦσι δὲ ἐν τῇ Ἀσίᾳ οὗτοι αὐτόνομοι, οὐχ ἥκιστα διὰ πενίαν τε καὶ δικαιότητα) // Curt. 7.6.11: iustissimos barbarorum constabat; (2) Arr. An. 4.11.9: τὸν Κῦρον ἐκεῖνον Σκύθαι ἐσωφρόνισαν, πένητες ἄνδρες καὶ αὐτόνομοι, καὶ Δαρεῖον ἄλλοι αὖ Σκύθαι // Curt. 7.8.15: leo quoque aliquando minimarum avium pabulum fuit, et ferrum robigo consumit; 7.8.22: paupertas nostra velocior erit quam exercitus tuus, qui praedam tot nationum vehit. All these passages of Curtius belong to the Scythians’ speech to Alexander.

62  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Mardi, and the Cossaeans do. Alexander may have avoided engaging in an exhaustive war against the Scythians in their territory beyond the northern bank of the river Tanais/Syr Darya, but after the battles he waged against them, despite the losses to his army that he suffered, he subdued their king.102 As it is, Arrian not only does not take advantage of Alexander’s successes in order to praise him, but his narration of Alexander’s first victory at the battle of Tanais/Syr Darya presents the Macedonian king as blasphemous, arrogant, and voracious (4.4.2–9). In this battle description, we find the usual motifs of the warfare narratives in the Anabasis: Alexander’s cleverness, the successful realization of a plan, and the surprise of his enemies. What produces the implicit reproach of Alexander in this unit, however, is the way in which it both begins and ends. In the opening paragraph, Arrian draws our attention to Alexander’s motives when deciding to confront the Scythians. They had gathered at the northern bank of the river and were provoking the Macedonians with skirmishes. They challenged Alexander by mockingly saying that they will teach him that the Asians he had so far encountered could not be compared with the bravery of the Scythians. Alexander is depicted as being emotionally affected by these challenges (παροξυνόμενος),103 which is why, Arrian says, he decided to fight them. However, the omens that appeared during the preparation of the ships, which would serve as a bridge for his army to cross the river, were not favorable. Yet, although the sacrifices again portended nothing positive for him, Alexander responded to Aristander, who was advising him to wait, that he would rather go “to any extremity of danger than, after subduing almost the whole of Asia, to be a laughing-stock to Scythians, as Darius the father of Xerxes had been long ago” (4.4.3). He thus crosses the river and defeats them. At the end of this account we read that in his pursuit of the barbarians Alexander drank water from that area and had a sudden bout of diarrhea, allowing the Scythians to escape. The episode ends with Arrian’s comment (4.4.9): “In this way Aristander’s prophecy came true.” Having read of the initial boastfulness of the Scythians and their eventual defeat, we would not be surprised if Arrian completed his account with an ironic comment on their fate, as he did for the Uxians. Yet, it is not the Scythians who are to be punished for their arrogance but Alexander. Arrian took advantage of

 102 And advanced around eighty stadia across the Jaxartes (Curt. 7.9.9–16). Cf. Holt 1988, 59 n. 36. 103 Alexander’s feelings should not be limited to mere zeal (Montgomery 1965, 190 “Eifer”). This kind of zeal is motivated by a mixture of pride and ambition, as indicated by the verb παροξύνεσθαι that Arrian uses, which appears only from Book IV onwards and carries mainly negative connotations when used in the Anabasis (cf. 4.8.4; 5.25.2).

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the material he had read in his sources on Alexander’s disrespect for Aristander’s prophecies, in order to compose an episode in which he could criticize the king’s thirst for glory in battle. The Scythians emerge as the ones beloved by the gods and Alexander as defying divine will for the sake of his vanity. At this point, two antitheses emerge between this war narrative and the first three books. The first antithesis concerns the way in which Arrian connects the supernatural element with the decisions Alexander makes against those he has conquered. We have seen that in Book I Arrian used the omen of the eagle in order to convey the impression that Alexander’s campaigns on the southern coastline of Asia Minor were part of a god-sent plan. In contrast, Aristander’s interpretation here implies exactly the opposite and in this respect Alexander is turned from being favored by the gods into a man who is disrespectful to them and an enemy of those protected by them. Aristander’s reaction to Alexander’s disrespect is characteristic (4.4.3): Ἀρίστανδρος δὲ οὐκ ἔφη παρὰ τὰ ἐκ τοῦ θείου σημαινόμενα ἄλλα ἀποδείξεσθαι, ὅτι ἄλλα ἐθέλει ἀκοῦσαι Ἀλέξανδρος. Yet Aristander refused to interpret the sacrifices in any way contrary to the signs from heaven because Alexander desired to hear something different.

Even the fact that Alexander opposes Aristander, the most distinguished representative of the gods in the Anabasis, speaks for itself as a criticism of the king. The second antithesis lies in the exploitation of the ‘Beinahe’ episodes in comparison with the way Arrian used this scheme in Book I. Arrian writes about how the Scythians were saved (4.4.9): καὶ ἦν γὰρ πονηρὸν τὸ ὕδωρ, ῥεῦμα ἀθρόον κατασκήπτει αὐτῷ ἐς τὴν γαστέρα· καὶ ἐπὶ τῷδε ἡ δίωξις οὐκ ἐπὶ πάντων Σκυθῶν ἐγένετο· εἰ δὲ μή, δοκοῦσιν ἄν μοι καὶ πάντες διαφθαρῆναι ἐν τῇ φυγῇ, εἰ μὴ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τὸ σῶμα ἔκαμεν. The water was in fact bad, and so sudden diarrhea attacked his stomach; for this reason the pursuit did not extend to all the Scythians. Otherwise I think they would all have perished in their flight, had not Alexander been taken ill.

While the ‘Beinahe’ episodes in the accounts of Thebes, Halicarnassus, and Tarsus stressed the magnanimity and moderation of Alexander, this technique carries here an inverted message in that it highlights his violence and thirst for killing. In conclusion, the chapters on the Scythians under examination differ from previous similar stories of the first three books in terms of the effect of (a) ethnographic data; (b) the supernatural element; and (c) the contribution of the ‘Beinahe’ episodes to the delineation of Alexander’s portrait.

64  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism Although preceding the pivotal digression of ch. 4.8–14, the Scythian chapters are related to it just as the accounts of the three rocks are, and serve as its prelude to the subjects that will be introduced in sharper colors and will make the whole work cohere until its very end. In the digression, Callisthenes ends his speech by warning the king that Xerxes and Darius were punished by the poor Scythians for their arrogance (4.11.9). As in ch. 4.1 the Scythians’ poverty is accompanied by their exhibition of a moral virtue, justice, here too this feature has didactic implications. The Scythians taught Cyrus that even a poor people can humble the greed of an ‘omnipotent’ ruler. It is striking that, although Callisthenes refers twice to the Scythians, both those in Asia and those in Europe, he touches upon the poverty of the first, who are more closely related to the Abian Scythians of ch. 4.1.104 This suggests that we are reading not the actual words of Callisthenes but Arrian’s thoughts.105 If in ch. 4.1 the intertextual associations with Homer are offered explicitly, in Callisthenes’ case, the linking of his words to the didactic account of Herodotus on the humiliation of Cyrus by the Massagetae Scythians is achieved in a more covert and demanding way, since such associations require the literary competence of the reader.106 By means of these immediate and implicit intertextual references, Arrian includes Alexander in a group of greedy monarchs and thereby invites us to make a comparison between him and them. In ancient Greek literature from Herodotus onwards, the Scythians symbolized the humiliation of monarchical lust, and stood as an exemplum of free and proud nations.107 In the light of these symbolic associations, we are being asked by Arrian to answer questions such as: Will Alexander use the lessons of the past or will he be equally myopic due to his complacence? Will he respect the free spirit of the Scythians or will he be turned into a misprint of the Persian kings, being no other than more effective than them in the conduct of war? Of course, the answer we are led to does not favor Alexander.

 104 HCA II, 86; AAA II, 409. 105 Most scholars agree that Callisthenes’ speech is Arrian’s fabrication. See, for example, Brown 1949, 236–237, 242; Balsdon 1950, 378; Brunt 1976, 540; Badian 1981, 48; Prandi 1985, 26. But for a contrary view, see Bosworth 1988a, 118–119. 106 On this concept in classical historiography (Thucydides), see Liotsakis 2015, 282 n. 19 on ‘linguistic competence’, a term coined by Chomsky, and 283 n. 30 on ‘verbal competence’. 107 HCA II, 15.

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.. The inhabitants of the river Tanais/Syr Darya and the king’s cruelty The shift from Arrian’s initially favorable characterization of Alexander towards a more stringent presentation of his cruelty is equally discernible in the account of the occupation of the seven cities near the river Tanais/Syr Darya. While arranging the foundation of yet another Alexandria on the bank of the river, Alexander was informed that the inhabitants of the southern bank had recaptured the forts of their cities and killed the Macedonian garrisons. Their effort had been instigated and supported by the rest of the Sogdians and spread as far as Bactrian territory. This is the beginning of a long and arduous effort by the Macedonians to take control of this area, an effort that also dominates the largest part of Book IV. As a first move, Alexander decided to capture the riverbank cities of the rebels, which he succeeded in doing in a very short period of time. In ch. 4.1.3–3.5, Arrian highlights the unrestrained character of the Macedonian march through these cities (see the emphatic antithesis of τὰς πέντε πόλεις ἐν δυσὶν ἡμέραις ἑλών τε καὶ ἐξανδραποδισάμενος in ch. 4.3.1). On the other hand, what distinguishes this account from other similar ones in the first three books is the fact that here Arrian brings to the foreground not only Alexander’s dexterity but also his ruthlessness. In ch. 4.2.1–6, we read of the occupation of three out of the seven cities. The Macedonians killed all the men and enslaved the rest of the population, and it is particularly interesting that Arrian hastens to clarify that the execution of all the men of Gaza was ordered by Alexander himself (4.2.4: οὕτως ἐξ Ἀλεξάνδρου προστεταγμένον). Arrian’s interest in Alexander’s responsibility for the annihilation of the population of a city is far from reminiscent of his intention to absolve him for responsibility for the death of the Thebans. It also fails to evoke his embellishment of his motives in so many cases, or even the omission of his order for the crucifixion of thousands of men after the capture of Tyre. On the contrary, Arrian here concentrates fully on Alexander’s cruelty. Immediately afterwards, while narrating the capture of the next two positions, he again informs us that Alexander reserved the same fate for those people too (4.2.4: καὶ τοὺς ἁλόντας τὰ αὐτὰ ἔπραξεν). Arrian draws our attention once again to the cruelty of Alexander’s measures, when he narrates the destruction of the seventh city (4.3.5): τὴν δὲ ἑβδόμην πόλιν ἐξ ἐφόδου ἔλαβε, Πτολεμαῖος μὲν λέγει, ὅτι αὐτοὺς σφᾶς ἐνδόντας, Ἀριστόβουλος δέ ὅτι βίᾳ καὶ ταύτην ἐξεῖλεν καὶ ὅτι πάντας τοὺς καταληφθέντας ἐν αὐτῇ ἀπέκτεινε. Πτολεμαῖος δὲ κατανεῖμαι λέγει αὐτὸν τοὺς ἀνθρώπους τῇ στρατιᾷ καὶ δεδεμένους κελεῦσαι φυλάσσεσθαι ἔστ’ ἂν ἐκ τῆς χώρας ἀπαλλάττηται αὐτός, ὡς μηδένα ἀπολείπεσθαι τῶν τὴν ἀπόστασιν πραξάντων.

66  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism The seventh city he took at first assault. Ptolemy says that they surrendered, Aristobulus that Alexander captured this city too by force, and killed all he found within; Ptolemy also says that he distributed the men among his army and ordered them to be kept bound and under guard till he left their country, so that none of those responsible for the revolt should be left behind.

Arrian may seem to be expressing a slight preference for Ptolemy’s version,108 but the disagreement viewed by itself, as in many other cases in the work, stresses the event under examination even more strongly. Not only that, if we take the chapters on these seven cities as a whole, three subsequent mentions of Alexander’s decision to annihilate the male citizens of a city in a text of only three pages in the Teubner edition is suggestive of Arrian’s intention not to let Alexander off the hook on these occasions. The reader is not only informed of the total destruction of these places but is also offered the opportunity to identify with the barbarians by experiencing their calamities through their eyes. Alexander, while engaging with the occupation of the first three villages, sent a part of his cavalry to the next two villages in order to kill their inhabitants, in case the latter were informed of the destruction of their neighbors and tried to flee. The development of the plot may confirm Alexander’s prediction (4.2.5: καὶ ξυνέβη τε οὕτως ὅπως εἴκασε);109 however, in this case we are being asked to engage with more than the usual praise for the king’s foresight. This is so especially if we pay attention to the way Arrian describes for us how the barbarians were informed of the extermination of their compatriots (4.2.6): οἱ γὰρ τὰς δύο τὰς οὔπω ἑαλωκυίας πόλεις ἔχοντες τῶν βαρβάρων, ὡς καπνόν τε εἶδον ἀπὸ τῆς πρὸ[ς] σφῶν πόλεως ἐμπιπραμένης καί τινες καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ πάθους110 αὐτοῦ διαφυγόντες

 108 It is true that Arrian does not clarify which version he prefers (Hammond 1993, 234), but the way he structures his text (Ptolemy – Aristobulus – Ptolemy) probably aims to show an inclination for Ptolemy’s testimony as the more valid. For this discrepancy, see FGrH, IIB, Komm., 505; Strasburger 1934, 15 who argues that this text suggests that Aristobulus drew from Ptolemy (rejected by Konnermann 1935, 11 and HCA II, 21–22); AAA II, 379. Pearson’s (1960, 166–167) association (for different reasons) of ch. 4.3.5 with the divergence of ch. 3.30.1–5 as to who (Alexander or the followers of Spitamenes and Dataphernes) stripped Bessus of his clothes is more revealing of the way Arrian worked on these passages: in both cases, Arrian’s purpose in recording both alternatives is to stress the issue of Alexander’s cruelty. 109 On this phrase in this passage as well as in ch. 1.1.9, ch. 1.27.7, and ch. 2.10.3, see Montgomery 1965, 165, nn. 8 and 9, 170 n. 8; Stadter 1980, 91–92 and 220 n. 2; AAA I, XL n. 2. 110 Arrian uses the words πάθος and πάθημα mostly at central points of his narrative (1.9.1–10.1 on the destruction of Thebes and the previous sufferings of Greek cities; 4.6.3 on Alexander’s grief for the largest number of Macedonian casualties in a battle in the Anabasis; 6.11.2–8 on Alexander’s injury in the battle against the Malli; 6.25.4 on the sufferings of the army during the

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αὐτάγγελοι τῆς ἁλώσεως ἐγένοντο, ὡς τάχους ἕκαστοι εἶχον ἀθρόοι ἐκ τῶν πόλεων φεύγοντες ἐμπίπτουσιν ἐς τὸ στῖφος τῶν ἱππέων ξυντεταγμένον καὶ κατεκόπησαν οἱ πλεῖστοι αὐτῶν. For the barbarians who held the two yet untaken cities saw the smoke rising, as the city next in front of them was ablaze, and when a few who escaped the catastrophe itself gave first-hand information of the capture, they attempted as fast as they could to escape from these cities in a mass, but ran straight into the close array of cavalry, and most of them were cut down.

Emphasizing the fear and surprise of Alexander’s enemies is a typical feature, as we have seen, of the Anabasis, including in the early books. However, what is stressed here is not merely the fear of the barbarians in the face of the awesomeness of the Macedonian phalanx but a picture of devastation and generally the destructive effects of Alexander’s imperialistic tactics on the daily life of his victims. The sight of the deserted and burned cities is a recurring motif of Books IV– VI and is only one of the many aspects that render the narrative of the second half of the work more realistic with regard to the representation of the life, customs, and inner world of the captured peoples. In this case, Arrian permits the reader to identify emotionally with the barbarians who, awestruck, watch the devastation of their land.

.. The Indians: the king’s lust for conquest As the narrative unfolds in the second half of the Anabasis, the reader is offered more opportunities to engage with the peoples and see the negative effects of Macedonian imperialism on them. In the last chapter of Book IV, we read of the battle between the Macedonians and the Indians of the city Massaga. Alexander’s foresight and his enemies’ surprise are again present here. Arrian, however, penetrates more deeply into the Indians’ thoughts and in such a way that he stresses not the superiority of the Macedonians but rather the moral virtues of the Indians. When they surrender to Alexander, he willingly accepts their offer to parley, because “he was glad to be able to save the lives of brave men” (4.27.3). However, the Indians would not accept his plan to incorporate them into his army (ibid.):

 crossing of the Gedrosian desert), which may suggest that the presence of the word πάθους in ch. 4.2.6 is intended to emphasize the situation described.

68  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism οἱ μὲν δὴ ἐξῆλθον ξὺν τοῖς ὅπλοις, καὶ κατεστρατοπέδευσαν κατὰ σφᾶς ἐπὶ γηλόφῳ, ὃς ἦν ἀντίπορος τοῦ τῶν Μακεδόνων στρατοπέδου. νυκτὸς δὲ ἐπενόουν δρασμῷ διαχρησάμενοι ἐς τὰ σφέτερα ἤθη ἀπαναστῆναι οὐκ ἐθέλοντες ἐναντία αἴρεσθαι τοῖς ἄλλοις Ἰνδοῖς ὅπλα. They came out with their arms, and encamped by themselves on a hill facing the Macedonian camp; however, they intended to slip away at night and escape to their own homes, as they had no wish to bear arms against the rest of the Indians.

In the aftermath of this scene, Alexander kills them all. The Indians are portrayed as uncompromising patriots. Their death ceases to be without interest to the reader or merely a part of a plan, and is seen as the tragic manifestation of resistance to the conqueror. Of course, Alexander is favorably presented as not wanting to kill them.111 Still, in this case, Arrian chooses to offer us the other side of the coin as well. At this stage of the narrative, the peoples confronted by Alexander escape the narrow limits of the stereotypical formula of ‘the barbarian who merely feels surprise in front of the mighty Alexander’. The narrator’s interest in their thoughts, feelings, moral code, and the images they see create a channel of communication between them and the reader. What is interesting in this respect is the fact that Arrian employs this same technique in order to arrange the macro-structure of his work, specifically in Book V, at the pivotal point where Alexander decides to end his march to the East. In contrast with the crescendo of battles in Book IV, Book V contains significantly fewer battle descriptions. The largest part of the account is dedicated to the opening digression on the geography of India, the battle of the Hydaspes, and the debate between Alexander and Coenus on whether the expedition should be continued beyond the Hyphasis or not. From the beginning of the book up to ch. 5.21.6, we read only two short references to occupations, firstly those of the riparian tribes of the Hydaspes during the arrival and sojourn of the Macedonians around the river (5.9.2), and secondly the occupation of the shores of another river, the Hydraotes (5.21.6). These campaigns are narrated as minimalistically as those in the first three books. Equally colorless concerning the presentation of the conquered peoples is the description on the Macedonians’ battle against the Cathaeans at Sangala (5.22.1–24.5). However, it is exactly after the account of Sangala that Arrian marks a pivotal point in his narrative when he touches upon Alexander’s next goal, the Indians beyond the Hyphasis. Let us begin with Arrian’s comment (5.24.8):

 111 Yet by no means does he appear justified in his decision to kill them, as Brunt (1977, 45) believed.

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[…] αὐτὸς δὲ ξὺν τῇ στρατιᾷ ἐπὶ τὸν Ὕφασιν ποταμὸν προὐχώρει, ὡς καὶ τοὺς ἐπέκεινα Ἰνδοὺς καταστρέψαιτο. οὐδὲ ἐφαίνετο αὐτῷ πέρας τι τοῦ πολέμου ἔστε ὑπελείπετό τι πολέμιον. Alexander himself advanced with his army to the Hyphasis, to subdue the Indians beyond as well. For he thought there could be no end of the war as long as any enemy was left.

These words of Arrian exemplify the way in which historical narrative and inserted commentary constitute two inseparable aspects of the construction of moral messages in the Anabasis. Although this mild comment reminds us more of Thucydides’ sobriety than of Arrian’s typical didacticism, it is clearly derogatory and its aim is to lash out at Alexander’s irrationality. Alexander’s line of thought is here presented as being more the result of a lustful fever and as having nothing in common with his coherent reasoning, of which we have read in the first three books with respect to his plans to occupy the Asian coastline or to conquer Tyre. At this pivotal point, the end of the march to the East, Arrian offers us a censorious perspective from which we are invited to re-evaluate what we have read from the beginning of Book IV onwards about the expedition against India. In this comment, Arrian portrays Alexander as the unappeased conqueror who aspires to subdue all those who, in his opinion, will choose to resist him. In Book VI, as we will see, this portrait will emerge from a series of incidents, where Alexander will be presented as acting in such a way as to confirm Arrian’s judgment in this comment. The comment also performs a preparatory role for its immediate context, in that it predisposes our reading of Alexander’s decision to subdue the Indians beyond the Hyphasis. Here is Arrian’s description of the Indians (5.25.1–2): τὰ δὲ δὴ πέραν τοῦ Ὑφάσιος εὐδαίμονά τε τὴν χώραν εἶναι ἐξηγγέλλετο καὶ ἀνθρώπους ἀγαθοὺς μὲν γῆς ἐργάτας, γενναίους δὲ τὰ πολέμια καὶ ἐς τὰ ἴδια δὲ σφῶν ἐν κόσμῳ πολιτεύοντας (πρὸς γὰρ τῶν ἀρίστων ἄρχεσθαι τοὺς πολλούς, τοὺς δὲ οὐδὲν ἔξω τοῦ ἐπιεικοῦς ἐξηγεῖσθαι), πλῆθός τε ἐλεφάντων εἶναι τοῖς ταύτῃ ἀνθρώποις πολύ τι ὑπὲρ τοὺς ἄλλους Ἰνδοὺς, καὶ μεγέθει μεγίστους καὶ ἀνδρείᾳ. ταῦτα δὲ ἐξαγγελλόμενα Ἀλέξανδρον μὲν παρώξυνεν ἐς ἐπιθυμίαν τοῦ πρόσω ἰέναι. The country beyond the Hyphasis was reported to be fertile, and the inhabitants good farmers and excellent fighting men, with their affairs under orderly government, for the masses were ruled by the best men, who did not exercise leadership unfairly. These people also had a greater number of elephants than the other Indians, and the best for size and courage. This report stirred Alexander to a desire for further advance.

If the preceding comment resembles the practices of Thucydides and targets Alexander, the placement of ethnographic material at exactly this point of the plot is reminiscent of Herodotus and concerns the object of Alexander’s imperialism.

70  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism The ‘father of history’ very often creates a contrast between the tranquil life of his ethnographic digressions and the destruction of culture and peace as symbolized by the Persian throne. In a similar way, Arrian juxtaposes the serenity of the Indians with Alexander’s bellicosity. Indian society is presented in its entirety as ideal, resembling, one could almost say, Plato’s Kallipolis. The picture of the peace-loving farmers, who skillfully cultivate their land, while also being virtuous fighters who are governed by the few aristoi, demonstrates all the basic elements of the Platonic ideal state, i.e. the producers, auxiliaries (warriors), and rulers. The material prosperity that emerges from diligence, courage, justice, and self-discipline creates a picture of serenity and happiness that stands, however, in sharp contrast to the preceding narrative of the mass executions and enslavement of populations, the burning and devastation of lands, and the rage of the soldiers and the king’s vanity. Arrian takes advantage of this antithesis here in order to create a feeling of unease in the readers for the threat posed against those peaceful people. 112 Let us now see how our reading of the military narrative in Book VI is affected by Arrian’s ironic comment in ch. 5.24.8 that Alexander would not end his campaign as long as any enemy was left. Book VI is full of Arrian’s praise in most of its parts.113 Exactly because of its highly laudatory nature, Book VI exemplifies in  112 The ethnographic material we are offered by Arrian in the first three books consists of the following: the fishermen of the Istrus (1.3.6); female rulers in Asia (1.23.7); the language of the people of Side (1.26.4); the Phrygians’ use of salt from Lake Ascania (1.29.1); the Telmissians’ prophetic skills and their ability to interpret omens (2.3.3); the phrase ‘be merry’ as a euphemism for an Assyrian word in Sardanapalus’ inscription (2.5.4); the Argive origins of the Mallians (2.5.9); the excellent quality of the Ambracian pastures and cattle (2.16.6); the Egyptians’ use of the salt of Siwah in trade and rituals (3.4.3–4); the Babylonians’ favorite god Belus (3.16.4); the royal burial customs of the Persians (3.22.1); the just political system of the Ariaspae (3.27.5); the cattle of the inhabitants of Parapamisus (3.28.6); the Massagetae Scythians’ eagerness to go to war (4.17.5); the Indian elephant hunters (4.30.8); the Nysaeans’ origins (5.1.5–6); the Nysaeans’ excellent government (5.2.2); ethnographic data on the Indians and the Persians (5.4.4–5); the Indians’ love of song and dance (6.3.4); the Fish-eaters (6.23.3); and the Persian wedding custom (7.4.6–8). However, this information is given in short digressions that are irrelevant to the main plot and therefore have no serious effect on our evaluation of these peoples and Alexander or contribute to a positive evaluation of him. 113 In the opening chapters, we observe the beginning of the Macedonians’ departure from India. Arrian underlines the significance of this historical moment through a series of techniques. He focuses on the solemnity with which Alexander made the proper sacrifices to the rivers and gods, and gives a vivid description of the size, awesomeness and orderliness of the Macedonian navy of 2,000 ships that navigated the river Hydaspes. Cf. 6.13.3 (AAA II, 523, 536). We here listen to the sound of the leaders’ orders and the roars on the water, as they echo through the surrounding woods. We also experience all these from the point of view of the Indians, who feel surprise

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the most characteristic way how praise is mingled with criticism in the last books of the Anabasis. Most importantly, it showcases the way this criticism emerges from the interaction of the narrative itself with the authorial comments. There now follows an examination of the extensive account of the war against the Malli and its aftermath (6.4–16). We will concentrate mostly on the passages that refer to the occupations of cities and conquests of peoples. On his way down the Hydaspes, Alexander subdues some riparian peoples who chose to resist him (6.4.2). Furthermore, on learning that the Malli and the Oxydracae have decided to fight him in order to block his way from their territory, he begins to chase them. Arrian dedicates eleven chapters, a third of Book VI, to these operations. It is telling that a recurring theme of this unit is the extermination of these Indian populations, especially in those cases when the Indians do not resist but flee. The Macedonians are repeatedly presented as killing peaceful inhabitants during their flights, inhabitants who avoid fighting Alexander and are not willing to be deprived of their freedom. In ch. 6.6.6, Perdiccas arrived at a city but found it empty. Since its inhabitants had not long left, Perdiccas chased the fugitives and killed those who did not manage to hide in the marshes. Now, a couple of paragraphs later (6.7.1–2), we meet with a similar scene. This time it is Alexander himself who leads his army against the Malli who try to escape by crossing the river Hydraotes. He killed many of them during their effort to cross the river, captured some others alive, and chased those who managed to take refuge in a fortified city. He attacked without delay and killed many of the Malli, while he enslaved the rest of them. In ch. 6.8.1–3, we read of the death of some other Malli. Alexander visited some of their cities and found them empty. He ordered Demetrius and Pithon to hunt them on the banks of the river and to kill those who would not surrender themselves of their own will. This episode ends on the following note: “Pithon’s and Demetrius’ troops did, in fact, find and kill many in the woods”. The emphasis on the element of death and on the fact that the Macedonians killed all those people not in a battle but during their flight stresses the immoderate character of this phase of the expedition and therefore invites us to sympa-

 at the unprecedented sight of horses on ships (6.2–3). In the rest of the book, Arrian’s interest is focused on Alexander’s war against the Malli and its aftermath (6.5–16), some military and exploratory expeditions near the Indus delta (6.17–21), the crossing of the Gedrosian desert (6.22– 26), and Alexander’s measures for the administration of his empire (6.27–30). These subjects give Arrian the opportunity to highlight Alexander’s skills on many different levels.

72  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism thize with the Malli who are hunted and killed like animals with no reason. Alexander’s operations in these lands do not resemble the virtuous and sober war against Darius; they are rather presented as an act of genocide. Furthermore, the chapters on Alexander’s activities against the Indians should be read in light of the Indikē, where Arrian gives us a clue of his feelings about the Macedonian conquest of the Indians (Ind. 9.11–12): ἀλλὰ Ἀλέξανδρον γὰρ ἐλθεῖν τε καὶ κρατῆσαι [πάντων] τοῖς ὅπλοις ὅσους γε δὴ ἐπῆλθε· καὶ ἂν καὶ πάντων κρατῆσαι, εἰ ἡ στρατίη ἤθελεν. οὐ μὲν δὴ οὐδὲ Ἰνδῶν τινὰ ἔξω τῆς οἰκείης σταλῆναι ἐπὶ πολέμῳ διὰ δικαιότητα. Only Alexander came and conquered by force of arms all the countries he assailed, and would have conquered the whole world, had his army been willing. Nor did any Indians ever set out beyond their own country on a warlike expedition, because of their respect for justice.

Arrian, although admitting Alexander’s superiority over Cyrus and other conquerors, nevertheless contrasts Alexander’s lust with the Indians’ justice. This passage echoes, of course, the contrast between Alexander’s expediency and the Scythians’ justice at the beginning of Book IV. Arrian has already expressed his sympathy with – and admiration for – the Indians in Book V, specifically for the Indian king Porus. His positive treatment of the Indians is discernible in the Mallian unit too. First, we have Arrian’s comment on the Indians’ uncompromising courage (cf. 4.27.3 above). Alexander has attacked a Brahmin city, to which some of the Malli had fled. The battle description is oriented towards the Macedonians’ epic eagerness and aidōs. Alexander climbs first the citadel wall, while the Macedonians hasten to follow him and fight by his side. However, Arrian focuses on the Indians too, all of whom died fighting, while others, refusing to surrender, burned their houses and died imprisoned in them (6.7.4–6). The account ends with Arrian’s comment on the Indians (6.7.6): ἀπέθανον δὲ οἱ πάντες ἐς πεντακισχιλίους, ζῶντες δὲ δι’ ἀνδρίαν ὀλίγοι ἐλήφθησαν. Up to five thousand in all fell, but such was their courage that few were captured alive.

Besides expressing his sympathy for the virtuous Indians, Arrian also evaluates Alexander’s successes in India in such a way that leads us to recall that Alexander should be grateful for his good luck. In ch. 6.14–16, we read of the Indians’ reaction to the Macedonian victory over the Malli. The Malli sent envoys to surrender their nations to Alexander, while the Oxydracae sent their governors, nomarchs and a hundred and fifty others of their most distinguished citizens, offering the

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most precious Indian gifts in order to negotiate their freedom. At the confluence of the Acesines and Indus, Perdiccas joined Alexander after having subdued yet another independent nation, the Abastanes, while the Sogdians also joined Alexander. These were all followed by the Ossadians, who sent their envoys to surrender their tribe. In the meantime, Alexander invaded the land of Musicanus, who had sent no envoys to him. The Indian governor, surprised by the speed of Alexander’s march through his land, offered his submission along with gifts and elephants, admitting that he was wrong in not having surrendered to Alexander. Afterwards, the Macedonian king moved into the land of the nomarch Oxicanus, occupying the two biggest cities in that region as well as a third one, where Oxicanus was arrested. After this, more Indian tribes voluntarily joined Alexander. These chapters exemplify a typical feature of the Anabasis, which regularly follows on from one of Alexander’s great successes. We find similar accounts in the first three books, after Alexander’s victories at the Granicus (1.17.1–3; 1.18.1) and Issus (2.13.7–8; 2.15.2–5; 3.1.2). However, what differentiates this case from those found in the first three books is Arrian’s purpose. For, in most of such cases, the focus on the fear of the nations and their surrender to Alexander aims primarily to stress the impact of his power on the psychology of a people and therefore to present him as the redoubtable conqueror (cf. 4.5.1). In other cases, Arrian takes advantage of these episodes in order to underline Alexander’s magnanimity towards these peoples or his respect for the social status of the envoys (2.15.2–5; 3.5.1; 4.15.1–5).114 However, in Book VI, the chapters on the surrender and the occupation of the Indians after the Macedonian victory against the Malli carry additional connotations. Without underestimating the greatness of Alexander’s achievement, Arrian ends his account by commenting that the occupation of India resulted not only from Alexander’s dexterity but also from his good luck (6.16.2):115 οὕτω καὶ Ἰνδοὶ πάντες ἐδεδούλωντο ἤδη τῇ γνώμῃ πρὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου τε καὶ τῆς Ἀλεξάνδρου τύχης.

 114 Compare also next chapter, pp. 105–108. 115 Didactic stories about the arrogance of a powerful monarch or city during periods of good fortune and success were a topos in Classical historiography. On Herodotus and Thucydides, see Liotsakis 2015, 302–309, and 304 n. 95 with further bibliography; Liotsakis 2016, 82–86; On Thucydides, see also Liotsakis 2017, 62 n. 118 with bibl., 81–83, and 81 n. 55, 82 n. 59 with bibl. Cf. D.S. 18.9.

74  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism The other cities in the same country surrendered to Alexander’s approach, no one resisting, so completely had the spirit of all the Indians been broken by Alexander and Alexander’s fortune.

In a similar way, in ch. 7.1–3 Arrian attacks Alexander’s aspirations. Alexander was already in Pasargadae and then in Persepolis, where he wished to visit the delta of the Euphrates and Tigris. When discussing Alexander’s intentions on this occasion, Arrian touches upon one of the most celebrated themes of the Alexander tradition, the dispute among historians over the king’s plans. Due to Alexander’s premature and sudden death, what exactly the next target of the expedition was to be, if the king had not died, has remained an obscure subject that is vexing even to modern historians.116 After referring to the abundance of opinions on the matter, Arrian confesses to the reader that he is not interested in penetrating Alexander’s intentions (7.1.4): ἐγὼ δὲ ὁποῖα μὲν ἦν Ἀλεξάνδρου τὰ ἐνθυμήματα οὔτε ἔχω ἀτρεκῶς ξυμβαλεῖν οὔτε μέλει ἔμοιγε εἰκάζειν, ἐκεῖνο δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἄν μοι δοκῶ ἰσχυρίσασθαι, οὔτε μικρόν τι καὶ φαῦλον ἐπινοεῖν Ἀλέξανδρον οὔτε μεῖναι ἂν ἀτρεμοῦντα ἐπ’ οὐδενὶ τῶν ἤδη κεκτημένων, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Εὐρώπην τῇ Ἀσίᾳ προσέθηκεν, οὐδ’ εἰ τὰς Βρεττανῶν νήσους τῇ Εὐρώπῃ, ἀλλὰ ἔτι ἂν ἐπέκεινα ζητεῖν τι τῶν ἠγνοημένων, εἰ καὶ μὴ ἄλλῳ τῳ, ἀλλὰ αὐτόν γε αὑτῷ ἐρίζοντα. For my part I cannot determine with certainty what sort of plans Alexander had in mind, and it is no purpose of mine to make guesses, but there is one thing I think I can assert myself, that none of Alexander’s plans were small and petty and that, no matter what he had already conquered, he would not have stopped there quietly, not even if he had added Europe to Asia and the Britannic Islands to Europe, but that he would always have searched far beyond for something unknown, in competition with himself in default of any other rival.

Although Book VII retains all the distinctive laudatory features of the previous books, this pejorative introduction paves the way for a critical reading of those parts of the book that relate to Alexander’s plans. Ch. 7.16–20 are dedicated to Alexander’s ambition to conquer the Caspian Sea and Arabia. With respect to the first goal, Arrian merely narrates the Macedonians’ efforts in Hyrcania to collect timber for the construction of new ships. Although in these chapters there is no authorial comment on Alexander’s mentality and motives, Arrian’s preceding censure in the introduction to the book has already predisposed our judgment on

 116 Cf. D.S. 18.4.2–6; Curt. 10.1.17–18; as well as Wilcken 1937; Tarn 1939; Robinson 1940; Tarn 1948 II, 378–398; Badian 1967; Brunt 1983, 500–504; Högemann 1985; Bosworth 1988a, 185–211; AAA II, 579–582.

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these operations in a negative way. This is also the case with regard to the Caspian Sea. This technique characteristically exemplifies how Arrian’s pejorative comments have a strong influence on our reading of passages that initially seem to be presented in a neutral light. Second, it also reveals how book division contributes to the unfavorable presentation of Alexander. As already said, the introductory parts of the Anabasis’ books offered Arrian the opportunity to orientate each book to specific themes. Accordingly, the pejorative introduction of Book VII serves as a general umbrella for those parts of the book dedicated to Alexander’s plans. Let us examine the account of Alexander’s preparations and plans against the Arabs. The unit covers ch. 7.19–20 and is structured out of the following smaller parts: (a) preparation of the navy; (b) motivation for the expedition against Arabia; and (c) geography of the area. In his analysis of Alexander’s motives, Arrian again highlights the king’s greed and his hubristic attitude towards Dionysus. Alexander had been informed that the Arabs honored only two gods, Uranus and Dionysus, and for this reason he aspired to become the third god that the Arabs would worship. Besides, he believed himself to be worthy of such an honor, given that his achievements were as magnificent as those of Dionysus. This comment is accompanied by one further interpretation (7.19.6): ἦν δὲ αὐτῷ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ ἡ παρασκευὴ ὡς ἐπὶ Ἄραβας τοὺς πολλούς, πρόφασιν μέν, ὅτι μόνοι τῶν ταύτῃ βαρβάρων οὔτε πρεσβείαν ἀπέστειλαν οὔτε τι ἄλλο ἐπιεικὲς ἢ ἐπὶ τιμῇ ἐπέπρακτο Ἄραψιν ἐς αὐτόν· τὸ δὲ ἀληθές, ὥς γέ μοι δοκεῖ, ἄπληστος ἦν τοῦ κτᾶσθαί τι ἀεὶ Ἀλέξανδρος. His naval preparations were directed at the greater number of Arabs, on the pretext that they alone of the barbarians in these parts had sent no envoys and had taken no other action reasonable or honorific to him. The truth in my own belief is that Alexander was always insatiate in winning possessions.117

This passage illustrates Montgomery’s view that in the last parts of the Anabasis the attribution of motives is more negatively colored.118 What is of great importance for our investigation is again the location of the comment and the crossreferences it creates with parts of the preceding plot which are narrated in a seemingly more neutral light. We have already examined those passages of Book VI where Alexander is presented as invading lands solely because their peoples did  117 Compare Herodotus’ and Thucydides’ scheme of profasis-alēthēs aitia (Montgomery 1965, 186). 118 Montgomery 1965, 184–189, 218.

76  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism not want to show obeisance to him. We have also seen that those passages, though lacking any pejorative authorial comment on Alexander’s mentality, unfold under the negative shadow of Arrian’s criticism of Alexander’s irrational greed in Book V. Furthermore, our reading of Book VI is affected by Book VII too, as the following parts of it are retrospectively echoed by Arrian’s criticism towards Alexander in ch. 7.19.6: ἔνθα δὴ διαβιβάσας Κρατερόν τε καὶ τῆς στρατιᾶς τὴν πολλὴν καὶ τοὺς ἐλέφαντας ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ τοῦ Ἰνδοῦ ποταμοῦ, ὅτι εὐπορώτερά τε ταύτῃ τὰ παρὰ τὸν ποταμὸν στρατιᾷ βαρείᾳ ἐφαίνετο καὶ τὰ ἔθνη τὰ προσοικοῦντα οὐ πάντῃ φίλια ἦν […] (6.15.4) Here he had Craterus and the greater part of the army and the elephants ferried across to the left bank of the river Indus, since the route by the river seemed easier on that side to an army heavily encumbered, and not all the neighboring tribes were friendly.

This passage exemplifies the views expressed in the comments of both ch. 5.24.8 and ch. 7.19.6. We can also cite in this connection ch. 6.15.5: καὶ Κρατερὸν μὲν ἐκπέμπει αὖθις ξὺν τῇ στρατιᾷ [διὰ τῆς Ἀραχωτῶν καὶ Δραγγῶν γῆς], αὐτὸς δὲ κατέπλει ἐς τὴν Μουσικανοῦ ἐπικράτειαν, ἥντινα εὐδαιμονεστάτην τῆς Ἰνδῶν γῆς εἶναι ἐξηγγέλλετο, ὅτι οὔπω οὔτε ἀπηντήκει αὐτῷ Μουσικανὸς ἐνδιδοὺς αὑτόν τε καὶ τὴν χώραν οὔτε πρέσβεις ἐπὶ φιλίᾳ ἐκπέμπει, οὐδέ τι οὔτε αὐτὸς ἐπεπόμφει ἃ δὴ μεγάλῳ βασιλεῖ εἰκός, οὔτε τι ᾐτήκει ἐξ Ἀλεξάνδρου. Craterus was again sent off with his army [through the Arachotian and Drangian country], while he himself sailed downstream towards the kingdom of Musicanus, which was reported to be the richest of all India, since Musicanus had not yet met him to surrender himself and his country, nor had sent envoys to establish friendly relations, nor indeed any gifts suitable for a great king, nor had he made any request from Alexander.

The same logic is also found in ch. 6.16.1–2: ἔνθεν δὲ ἀναλαβὼν τούς τε τοξότας καὶ τοὺς Ἀγριᾶνας καὶ τὴν ἵππον τὴν ἅμα οἷ πλέουσαν ἐξελαύνει ἐπὶ τὸν νομάρχην τῆς ταύτῃ γῆς, ὄνομα δὲ ἦν Ὀξικανός, ὅτι μήτε αὐτὸς ἀφῖκτο μήτε πρέσβεις παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἧκον ἐνδιδόντες αὐτόν τε καὶ τὴν χώραν. δύο μὲν δὴ τὰς μεγίστας πόλεις τῶν ὑπὸ τῷ Ὀξικανῷ ἐξ ἐφόδου κατὰ κράτος ἔλαβεν, ἐν δὲ τῇ ἑτέρᾳ τούτων καὶ αὐτὸς Ὀξικανὸς ἑάλω. From there Alexander, taking with him the archers, the Agrianians and the cavalry sailing with him, made an expedition against the nomarch of this district named Oxicanus, since he had neither come himself nor sent envoys, to surrender himself and his land. Two of the largest cities in Oxicanus’ realm were taken by assault without delay, and in the second of these Oxicanus himself was captured.

Conclusion  77

. Conclusion To conclude this first chapter, we have elaborated on the nature of Arrian’s praise of Alexander in the Anabasis. The juxtaposition of the two parts of the work with respect to (a) the siege descriptions and (b) the presentation of the peoples confronted by Alexander shows that the representation of historical reality shifts gradually from pure praise to a more critical delineation of Alexander’s choices. The comparison of the narratives of Thebes, Halicarnassus, Miletus, Tyre, and Gaza with those on the occupation of cities in Sogdiana, Bactria and India has revealed that Arrian used an abundance of narrative techniques in order to help the reader sense the gradually distortive effect of Alexander’s military feats on his character. Furthermore, the parallel examination of his representations of the peoples of Europe and the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans with the portraits of the Scythians and the Indians has suggested that the very same elements, namely emphasis on the mentality and ethnography of these peoples, serve diametrically opposite goals in the first three books and in the last ones. Last but not least, the placement of authorial comments at certain points of the narrative colors the historical account and turns seemingly neutral descriptions into a covert, pejorative narrative whole against Alexander’s arrogance and military zeal. It can thus be argued convincingly that the Alexander of Arrian’s Anabasis is not a morally static character. To be more specific, although many of Alexander’s features remain the same throughout the work, his very attitude towards the element of power changes as his military successes multiply. This transformation has further distortive effects on other aspects of his mentality too: the more his feats increase, the more demanding he becomes in terms of the honors he thinks he should enjoy. From a certain point onwards, his need to conquer the world transcends the legitimate limits of the heroic aidōs and gradually turns into megalomania and rage towards those who resist him. Furthermore, the more he is trapped within his addiction for subduing foreign lands, the less he cares about the cost of human lives required for the completion of his goal. At this point, it seems apposite to connect our interpretation concerning the development of Alexander’s character with general scholarly speculation about the characterization of individuals in ancient Greek literature, in order to shed some light on the tradition that Arrian might have followed in delineating his dynamic portrait of Alexander. By emphasizing the way in which, and the reasons why, Alexander’s personality developed through time, Arrian was less concerned with merely delineating some of Alexander’s characteristics than he was with the way in which Alexander interacted, as a historical agent, with the events and, more importantly, the implications of this interaction for the moulding of his character. However, modern scholarship has often expressed doubt as to whether

78  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism such an approach of change in character can be traced in ancient Greek literature. To begin with Homer, it has been repeatedly argued that the stereotypical way in which the Homeric heroes are presented to act and think deprives them of any sign of distinctiveness and psychological unity.119 Similarly, in tragedy, some characters have already consolidated as personalities in the preexisting mythological tradition, thus depriving the ancient dramatists of the opportunity to offer realistic portraits of these heroes. Accordingly in the field of historiography, even Thucydides, whose work has been traditionally considered to offer a highly realistic representation of the historical events, is indifferent to the development of the historical agents’ characters; he rather elaborates on the inner world of certain individuals fragmentarily, by restricting his concerns to the periods during which these men had a significant role in the historical development.120 Last but not least, other commentators have complained that the characters of the ancient novel fail to transcend the narrow limits of the stereotypical nature of the narrative of this genre,121 while in many cases it is not the characters themselves who keep the readers interested but certain plot structures.122 Striking counterexamples to Arrian’s dynamic portrait of Alexander can also be found in biography, a genre which lends the Anabasis many of its features.123 In their effort to stress specific aspects of the character of the individual under examination, ancient biographers frequently present characteristics that the individual obtained at later stages of his life as being present in his childhood too. Consequently, the reader may have a full picture of an individual’s features, but she cannot discern the procedures through which these features were shaped over a period of time. Nevertheless, classical texts were at the same time in a position to offer Arrian sundry models for his dynamic portrait of Alexander. Although in the biggest part of the Iliad Achilles’ deeds emerge as a result of his rage and vengefulness, in the last two books the hero’s anger withdraws and his resentment gives its place to conciliation and forgiveness. In a similar way, in the Odyssey the plot development reflects Telemachus’ development. The reluctant and fearful son of Odysseus of the first books turns into the confident man who is ready to search

 119 See e.g. the views of Snell (1960) and Adkins (1970), and Gill’s (1996) in Chapter I of his book. 120 Bruns 1896, 3–23. 121 For the views on the static nature of the characters in novel and generally in ancient Greek literature, see de Temmerman 2014, 18–26. In his recent monograph, de Temmerman successfully challenges this view. 122 Grethlein 2015. 123 As we will see further in Chapter III, pp. 125–143.

Conclusion  79

for his father throughout Greece and eventually to help him to kill the suitors and thereby restore his family’s place in his own oikos. In contrast to Achilles and Telemachus’ cases, Alexander’s development in the Anabasis does not entail a moral improvement; the plot development rather brings to the foreground the gradual corruption of the king’s morality due to his extraordinary military success. For this reason, the models followed by Arrian should be traced in portraits of men who, like Alexander, were corrupted due to the success of their political career. David Gribble classifies such individuals as a special category of people carrying the following features. For one, these individuals are gifted with extraordinary intellectual skills. The turning point for the development of their character regularly coincides with the very moment when they become aware of their special qualifications and the power that emerges from these special qualifications. From this point onwards, being aware of their extraordinary nature and their influence on the society to which they belong, they become more demanding in terms of the honors and the offices which society should, in their opinion, offer them. Most importantly, if their fellow countrymen refuse to recognize their value, they often turn against their country in order to avenge or to subdue it. Gribble refers to the examples of Pausanias, Themistocles, and Alcibiades. Pausanias, enjoying the prestige that emerged from his leading role in the victory of the Greeks over the Persians in the battle of Plataea, and having been entrusted the leadership of the Panhellenic alliance against the Persians, adopted the oriental way of life and aspired to take the command of Greece in cooperation with the Persians. However, the Spartans were informed of his plans and eventually imposed on him the penalty of death. At around the same time, Themistocles the inspirer of the Greek victory in the battle of Salamis and the man who succeeded in helping the Athenians build the Great Wall of Athens, avoiding the Spartans’ reactions, was exiled from his country and continued his political career as a satrap of the Persian Empire. Last of all, the most celebrated predecessor of Alexander, Alcibiades, being swayed by his megalomania and his ambition to rule, demanded offices which were traditionally assigned to citizens older than himself and aspired to conquer Sicily and Carthage. When his fellow citizens endeavored to get rid of the imminent danger that was latent in his increasing influence, he deserted Athens and joined Sparta and afterwards the Persians.124 It has been argued that Arrian, in maintaining a critical stance towards Alexander in the later books of the Anabasis, was influenced by the efforts of the his-

 124 Gribble 1999, 1–28.

80  Overall Design: From Praise to Criticism toriographers in the Imperial era to stress the gradual corruption the Roman emperors underwent due to the great power they obtained by taking over the throne.125 Nevertheless, we should not hasten to seek Arrian’s influences in PostClassical literature. Examples such as Pausanias, Themistocles, and Alcibiades suffice to prove that the works elaborating on the prestigious Greek past, with which Arrian was familiar, could have offered him equally striking models, which would inspire him to focus on the gradual corrosion of Alexander’s character by his military success. Furthermore, the more general issue of the inevitability of the fall of empires that is also latent in this dynamic portrait may have been a favorite subject of Imperial historiography, but it had also already become consolidated as a topos in the accounts of Arrian’s models, Herodotus and Thucydides.126 On the other hand, the contrast between a positive stance shown towards Alexander’s vision to conquer the Persian Empire and a negative one shown towards the continuation of the expedition to India mirrors the feelings of many Macedonians who followed Alexander. Indeed, this resentment of Alexander’s environment for his imperialistic aspirations must also have been profound in the accounts of some of the earliest historians of Alexander, whom Arrian had certainly read. After all, Elizabeth Baynham’s brilliant study of Curtius’ history of Alexander has aptly demonstrated that Curtius too offers a dynamic portrait of Alexander, which focuses on his gradual corruption.127 Two critical, dynamic portraits of Alexander (Arrian, Curtius) in the surviving literature of Alexander certainly betray a pre-existing tradition. A comprehensive discussion of the origins of the criticism in the Anabasis transcends the limits and the goals of this chapter. What suffices for our purpose is to say that, no matter its roots, criticism is obvious in Arrian’s work, especially in its second part. Arrian’s account constitutes a moral narrative which unfolds along a well-elaborated path from praise to criticism. The main message of this path is the following: The greatest conqueror of all times was partly conquered by his feats.

 125 Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1235. 126 See Rengakos 1984 on Thucydides’ narrative as a reflection of the change of the Athenian Empire’s character. 127 Baynham 1998, 128 n. 87 with ancient sources and modern literature on the matter.

 March-Narrative and Characterization So far, we have examined the overall structure of Alexander’s narrative portrait in the Anabasis and demonstrated that Arrian shaped two faces for his hero. In the first three books, Alexander is marked by his excellence on both an intellectual and a moral level. As a conqueror, he demonstrates great perspicacity in the way that he comes up with strategic plans and surpasses difficult tasks, while he also shows his concern for the fate of the populations he subdues. What is more, in these books Arrian is indifferent to the cultural physiognomy of those peoples and avoids offering an in-depth analysis of their emotions and motives. Consequently, the reader is deprived of the opportunity to emotionally engage with them and is thereby forced to focus mainly on Alexander’s virtues. By contrast, the last four books of the work delineate different portraits of both Alexander and the conquered nations. The Macedonian king, although retaining his military skills, is now often presented as acting out of arrogance, greed, and rage. These characteristics gradually replace his heroic aidōs, which was prevalent in the first three books. Moreover, the author becomes more engaged with the customs, mentality, and emotions of the peoples faced by Alexander. Subsequently, the reader is now allowed to feel the cruelty and the destructive consequences of Alexander’s conquests over the lives of his opponents, who are now presented not only as his foes but also as victims. As already explained, this view challenges the view that the military narrative in the Anabasis of Alexander is only and entirely a praise of Alexander’s res gestae. Now, equally important is the fact that this reading of the work sheds new light on the creativity with which Arrian worked on his material. Of course, the dynamic image of Alexander was not Arrian’s innovation. As we saw, the gradual corrosion of an empire due to immense power was a traditional subject of classical historiography, while Alexander too, long before Arrian, had been seen as one further example of despotism in the manner of Herodotus’ Persian kings and Thucydides’ Athenian Empire. Nonetheless, the narrative means through which this dynamic image takes its literary shape clearly comes about as a result of Arrian’s own interventions. The author confesses to the reader that the digression of Book IV is intentionally placed at this specific narrative point instead of somewhere else. Similarly, the elements that color in a critical way the expedition in India are Arrian’s most personal moments in the account, above all his authorial comments in Books V and VII. Equally conscious is his choice to stress the Scythians’ virtues and to deemphasize their savage customs. Last but not least, the way Arrian exploits the book division of his work in order to construct the transition from Alexander’s flawless image towards his darker portrait is one further proof that https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-003

82  March-Narrative and Characterization the route from praise to criticism is built upon the author’s own compositional designs. What is more, these narrative choices reflect Arrian’s special care for the macro-structure of his work. They all serve as directional signs about how the reader should perceive the ensuing plot development or (re)value what she has already read. This must have been one of the major challenges for Arrian in his effort to avoid composing a routine report of routes, stations, battles, casualties, and office assignments. Had he not managed to shape the ideological backbone of his account, the eventual product would have been nothing but a fragmentary narrative of feats with no special moral orientation. Arrian’s greatest concern in composing the Anabasis of Alexander was to achieve, through the handling of his material, the coherence not of a scene, an episode, or a unit, but of the whole work. In this chapter, we will investigate how this overall plan of the work is also served by passages whose distinctive feature is the constant motion of the army (in Stadter’s terms, ‘march-narratives’). So far, we have seen how Alexander’s transformation and Arrian’s gradual opposition to his choices emerge from siege and battle descriptions and the presentation of Alexander’s enemies. However, at this point the question arises as to whether or not the march-narratives of the Anabasis can be equally effective in the delineation of Alexander’s image and generally in the way the author leads us to interpret the historical development. In other words, how creative was Arrian in including in his account routine and thus dry reports of successive routes and stations of the army? This question emerges as being even more imperative, given that there has been no detailed analysis of the way in which the march-narrative unfolds and of the meaning that emerges from its unfolding. Narrative studies of the Anabasis have traced the thematic axes and general ideas of the work mostly in its battle descriptions, the siege accounts, anecdotes, and Arrian’s personal comments.1 Let us first define what is meant by the term ‘march-narrative’. In this chapter, we will use the term to designate passages where the narrator follows the route of the Macedonian army from place to place, with the main point of interest being mostly the itinerary of the forces under Alexander’s command. These segments of the work regularly consist of the following elements: (a) information on the duration of the march and the distances covered by the army. Besides their instructive role, these details are occasionally aimed to

 1 See Introduction, pp. 6–7.

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draw the reader’s attention to Alexander’s swiftness in covering extensive areas;2 (b) data on the division of the army and the kind of forces constituting both Alexander’s as well as the other heads’ troops; (c) topographical descriptions of the districts (rivers, mountains, plains, etc.) traversed by the Macedonians or of those where the army camped. This information is offered either in short or larger digressions, and often explains why Alexander preferred a route to another, or is related to the difficulties faced by the army; and (d) records of the events taking place during the army’s stay in an area or city. In such cases, we read of sacrifices and games organized by Alexander but mostly of his meetings with those visiting him (envoys of cities, governors of areas, or his officers who return from a mission and give him their reports). This data concerns negotiations and the king’s orders and administrative decisions, mostly office assignments.3 The extensive reports of sequential stations, routes, and office assignments have been traditionally considered parts of the work where Arrian was less energetic as a writer (on the view of most scholarship of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries). For many, the pedantry of these passages suggests that in composing them Arrian faithfully emulated a strict military account (probably Ptolemy’s personal routine recordkeeping) without proceeding to any deeper form of elaboration. From this point of view, these passages have been seen as less sophisticated on a literary level, while their semantic load has often been treated as merely instructive. At best, the way that such passages seem to contribute to the delineation of Alexander’s portrait lies in the fact that, considered together, they help the reader realize the greatness of his expedition.4

 2 Jacob 1991. 3 The term ‘march-narrative’, as described so far, corresponds, of course, to only certain parts of the Anabasis. In many and sometimes very extensive passages, the army’s route is interrupted by battle descriptions, siege accounts, or stories and anecdotes on betrayals, and mutinies. To take only two examples, 33 out of 64 pages (Teubner edition) of Book I are covered by the battle of the Granicus, the sieges of Miletus and Halicarnassus and the betrayal of the Lyncestian Alexander. Similarly, in 35 out of 52 pages of Book II the army’s march freezes in the battle of Issus and the sieges of Tyre and Gaza. 4 Burliga 2013, 112–113. The sole study on the passages in the Anabasis that elaborate the army’s march and the way that Arrian, in these passages, stresses Alexander’s ability to assess a situation, draw a route, and overcome geographical obstacles is Jacob’s (1991) article “Alexandre et la maîtrise de l’espase: l’art du voyage dans l’Anabase d’Arrien”.

84  March-Narrative and Characterization In 1894 Ulrich Wilcken propounded the idea that Arrian mostly copied the account of Ptolemy, which was based on the Royal Journal.5 Wilcken’s view was followed by Heinrich Endres in 19136 and was further developed by Ernst Kornemann in 1935. In Kornemann’s mind, Arrian, in writing the Anabasis, merely acted as an “Epitomator”, whose greatest contribution to the historiography of Alexander lay in the fact that he summarized or quoted in length Ptolemy’s history, especially in Books I–III. Kornemann based his theory mainly on stereotypical phrases of dating.7 Similarly, Felix Jacoby doubted whether Arrian changed Ptolemy’s text to a significant degree.8 Lionel Pearson recognized that some other integral elements of the Anabasis’ historical material (numbers on distances, forces, casualties, “appointments to commands and the composition of forces for special missions”) stem from Ptolemy’s account.9 And although rejecting Kornemann’s concept of “Arrian the Epitomator”, Pearson concluded that “no doubt Arrian made some original contribution here, just as he offered some original verdicts of his own; but with all his virtues, Arrian is not a brilliant original thinker; in his philosophical writings, as well as in his history, he is more concerned to transcribe and summarize others, partly perhaps for purposes of training and discipline (like Pliny the Younger), partly also for the convenience of readers who either could not or would not read the originals.”10 Leftovers of these views can be traced in Brunt’s skepticism with regard to Arrian’s creativity.11 On the other hand, there are those who believe that the Anabasis was the result of its author’s original interpretive reasoning and literary tastes. Hermann Strasburger adopted Kornemann’s method of approaching Arrian’s text as a mirror of Ptolemy’s account. He also agreed that the routine reports of an archival style frequent in the march-narratives of the Anabasis stem mainly from Ptolemy and less from Aristobulus, who is supposed by Strasburger to have included such reports in a much more concise form. Although Strasburger admitted that Arrian did elaborate stylistically on his material,12 his conclusions nevertheless cannot altogether keep at rest the doubts about whether or not Arrian elaborated on the

 5 Wilcken 1894, 117 and passim. 6 Endres 1913, 10–62. This was the communis opinio of that period. For exhaustive bibliography, see Strasburger 1934, 9. 7 Kornemann 1935, 16–30. 8 FGrH, IIB, Komm., 502–503. 9 Pearson 1960, 190–194. 10 Pearson 1960, 192. 11 See Introduction, p. 4 and p. 6. 12 Strasburger 1934, 8–9.

March-Narrative and Characterization  85

dry routine reports he found in his sources. This is because, if we accept Strasburger’s plausible view that Arrian included almost all the details of Ptolemy’s routine report,13 we cannot but wonder: How did Arrian manage to distance the perspective of his own narrative from that of an account that he followed so closely? This question is even harder to answer in the march-narratives of the Anabasis, where we find mostly place names, numbers, names of individuals and distances, with no obvious signs of Arrian’s authorial presence, such as comments, extensive penetrations into the motives of the protagonists, and stylistic elaboration. In this chapter, we will thus endeavor to offer an answer to two questions. First, did Arrian elaborate on the information and the details of the march-narratives (including geography, distances, divisions and composition of the army, office assignments, and administrational decisions) that he drew from his sources? As regards Arrian’s intervention in the form and content of this data, we will focus on how he changed this information and how its incorporation in certain points of the story contributes to the delineation of Alexander’s portrait. Secondly, do the march-narratives of the work participate in its overall design demonstrated in Chapter I, namely in the transition from pure praise to a more critical presentation of Alexander? And if they do, to what degree and how? In other words, did Arrian sketch his dynamic image of Alexander only through the siege episodes and the presentation of peoples, or did he also use the march-narratives for this purpose? One of the most enlightening passages in the Anabasis with regard to these two questions is the march-narrative of ch. 3.19.1–30.5 on Alexander’s pursuit of Darius and the subsequent activities of the Macedonian forces in the eastern satrapies of the Persian Empire until Bessus’ arrest.14 This segment constitutes one of the most representative samples of Arrian’s march-narratives in the work. It covers twenty two pages (Teubner edition) and focuses on the army’s route without being interrupted by any battle description or a speech. The only interruptions of the motion are essentially Arrian’s extensive, recapitulative authorial comment on the life and death of Darius and the chapters on Philotas’ involvement in the conspiracy of 330 BCE. The comment on Darius in particular serves as a pivotal point in the arrangement of ch. 3.19.1–30.5, as it determines the ideological orientation of

 13 Strasburger 1934, passim. 14 On these chapters, see Brunt 1976, 288–333; Stadter 1980, 70–71, 79, 82, 105; HCA I, 333–379; AAA I, 521–553; Miltsios 2018, 328–329.

86  March-Narrative and Characterization the whole unit. 15 For this reason, I will divide my narrative analysis into two parts. First I will examine the account until Arrian’s comment on Darius (ch. 3.19.1– 22.6), which elaborates on Alexander’s pursuit of Darius. And second, I will go on with the ensuing unit of ch. 3.23.1–30.5, which covers the events until Bessus’ arrest. It will also be explained how these two segments are linked to each other and the means by which they emerge as a whole with a common logic. The march-narrative of ch. 3.19.1–30.5 is also worth examining for one further, and equally significant, reason. It is dedicated to the historical period in which one should search for the origins of Arrian’s dynamic portrait of Alexander. In these years, the Macedonians’ complaints about Alexander’s decision to continue his march eastwards become increasingly more frequent and intense. Also, this is the period when people start addressing the issues of Alexander’s imperialistic lust and the corrosive influence of his military feats on his character. At this very moment, after their victory at Gaugamela, the Macedonians believed that the goal of the expedition was complete and that they could therefore now return home.16 Subsequently, from this point onwards, the voices claiming that Alexander’s decision to continue the war was unjustified continuously increased. From now on, the men treat their sufferings and the sacrifices they make as far less necessary than those of the years 334–331 BCE. Last but not least, this is also the period in which complaints are now more intensely expressed about Alexander’s embracing of Anatolian customs and the Persian royal agenda. For all these reasons, it is worth examining the way Arrian narrated the historical period that generated a number of motifs prevalent in the pejorative characterization of Alexander, such as those we discern in the last books of the Anabasis. The main thesis of this chapter will be that, in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19.1–30.5, Arrian purposely remains silent about these issues in order to bring them to the foreground from Book IV onwards. This march-narrative offers a purely laudatory and idealized representation of the king’s activities and motives. On the one hand, the pursuit of Darius emerges as a legitimate act, while, on the other hand, the war against Bessus too is embellished and presented as an effort on Alexander’s part to restore justice by punishing Darius’ murderers. The typical march-narrative data found in these chapters turn into integral components of this embellished presentation in the following ways. First, they do so through the technique that I would like to describe as ‘framing’. The narrator

 15 The comment of ch. 3.22.2–6 is one of the most celebrated passages in all scholarship of the Anabasis. See Strasburger 1934, 36; Stadter 1980, 82; Wirth 1980; Wirth 1981; HCA I, 346–348; Nylander 1993, 145–149; Badian 2000, 242–243; AAA I, 530–531. 16 Plu. Alex. 34.1. See Fredricksmeyer 2000, 137 n. 1 with exhaustive bibliography.

The historical context  87

frames a segment of his account with authorial comments or some other means, which function for the reader as markers of evaluation of the protagonists’ deeds and character. The narrative unit takes its ideological orientation from the passages which frame it, even if the unit itself contains information of a neutral ideological quality. For example, in the previous chapter we demonstrated how the narrative on Alexander’s march in India is framed by the authorial comments of ch. 5.24.8, ch. 6.16.2, and ch. 7.1.4. Through these comments, we saw that Arrian invited the reader to evaluate Alexander’s policy in India in the years 326–325 BCE as unjustified and morally reprehensible. 17 Accordingly, in this chapter it will be argued that some other comments and passages frame the march-narrative of ch. 3.19.1–30.5 and force the reader to endorse Alexander’s activities. Furthermore, besides the technique of ‘framing’, the data of this march-narrative participate in the construction of Alexander’s literary physiognomy through other means, such the omission of events and the emphasis on others through their temporal misplacement or the repetition of a single topic.

. The historical context The continuation of the expedition had already been questioned by the Macedonians – although probably still in a mild manner – before the battle of Gaugamela. Diodorus and Curtius relate that, somewhere in the last few months before the battle, Darius had approached Alexander expressing his intention to negotiate. The Persian king offered to Alexander all his lands up to the Euphrates and a treaty of friendship and alliance. He also promised to give a ransom of 10,000 (or of 30,000) talents as an exchange for his family’s freedom, while he invited Alexander to marry his eldest daughter.18 Alexander’s older officers must have exercised pressure upon him in order to convince him to accept Darius’ terms. Most sources agree that Parmenio said to the king that if he was Alexander he would reconcile with Darius. Alexander, the story goes, answered that, were he Parmenio, he would have done the same.19 This anecdote, although probably fabricated in  17 Chapter I, pp. 68–76. 18 D.S. 17.54.1–5, before the battle; Plu. Alex. 29.7–8, during Alexander’s stay in Tyre, that is late spring – midsummer 331 BCE; Curt. 4.11.1–22; Justin 11.12.9–15. See Beloch 1922, 637–638 n. 1; Tarn 1948 I, 40; Schachermeyr 1949, 191–192; Bury 19513, 768; Marsden 1964, 7–10; Seibert 1972, 102; Hamilton 1973, 70–71; HCA I, 228–229; Atkinson 1980, 320–323; Bernhardt 1988; Bosworth 1988b, 76; Green 1991, mentioning, however, 20,000 talents and the river Halys and not Euphrates; Rhodes 2006, 353–354; Heckel 2008, 73–75. 19 D.S. 17.54.4–5; Plu. Alex. 29.8 and Reg. et imp. apophth. 180a; Curt. 4.11.10–16; Arr. An. 2.25.2.

88  March-Narrative and Characterization its details, reflects the contemporary criticism of the court over Alexander’s plan to continue the war. Arrian, Diodorus and Curtius record that the incident took place during a council gathered by Alexander in order to discuss Darius’ offer with the heads of his army. Diodorus and Curtius also relate that the rest of the officers were quite reluctant to express their view, which definitely betrays the officers’ sympathy towards Parmenio’s opinion.20 Alexander’s decision to reject Darius’ proposition must have been one of the first occasions in the expedition that he caused dissatisfaction for his army and gave food for thought about his greed. However, after the battle of Gaugamela the lure of the Persian treasury eased the Macedonians’ disquiet and made them forget for some months the dream of their repatriation. Everyone was now expecting his reward and Alexander left no one unsatisfied. In Babylon he used the gold from the city’s treasury for payment of his troops. Babylon was followed by the surrender of Susa, where Alexander received “the greatest single sum that had ever fallen to any European dynast,”21 that is 40,000 talents of gold and silver bullion and 9,000 talents in gold darics.22 Alexander knew that his troops, in view of all this gold, would not be content only with the rewards from Babylon. For this reason, he used Persepolis as a scapegoat for the satisfaction of both the Macedonians and the Greeks. The city was plundered and Alexander’s men enjoyed the wealth of the city’s nobles, while the palace too was burnt. The despoiling of the city was not only aimed to quench the Macedonians’ thirst for money. Persepolis was also the city mostly associated with Darius I and his son Xerxes. In this respect, Alexander, who claimed his expedition to be a war of revenge of the injustices perpetrated by these Persian kings against the Greeks, found a great opportunity to present himself also as the Philhellene protector of Greek liberty.23 Alexander and his men extended their winter in Persepolis from January until May of 330 BCE. These months were for

 20 Badian 1964b, 195; Bosworth 1988b, 76; Müller 2003, 66–68; Müller 2014, 212–214; Lehmann 2015, 124–125. 21 Bosworth 1988b, 88. 22 D.S. 17.66.1–2; Str. 15.3.9, p. 731C.5–6; Plu. Alex. 36.1; Curt. 5.2.11; Arr. An. 3.16.7; Justin 11.14.9. See Tarn 1948 I, 53–54 (for the total amount of the treasures found in Babylon, Susa, and Persepolis); Schachermeyr 1949, 233; Bury 19513, 779; Fuller 1958, 109; Seibert 1972, 132–134; Hamilton 1973, 86; Bosworth 1988b, 88; Green 1991, 306; Lonsdale 2007, 47. 23 Droysen 1833, 232; Beloch 1922, 649–650; Tarn 1948 I, 54; Schachermeyr 1949, 236–237; Bury 19513, 782; Fuller 1958, 111–112; Hamilton 1973, 87–89; Balcer 1978; Green 1991, 319–321; Brosius 2003, 181–184; Lonsdale 2007, 66; Heckel 2008, 83–84; Heckel 2009a, 40; Poddighe 2009, 116; Briant 2010, 107–111.

The historical context  89

the Macedonians a period of festivity and general jollity, the enjoyment of the fruits of their labors since the beginning of the expedition in Asia in 334 BCE. Alexander still had some good reasons and thus a convenient excuse to continue his march eastwards. Darius may have been neutralized in Gaugamela, but he was still alive in Ecbatana, the capital of Media, concentrating on what was to constitute his last, desperate effort to gather an army and save what was left for him. He was still supported by some nobles, such as his kinsman Bessus, the satrap of Bactria, the chiliarch Nabarzanes, Artabazus and his sons, as well as a small portion of his Greek mercenaries.24 In May of 330 BCE Alexander thus left Persepolis in order to pursue Darius and land the final blow on the Achaemenid Dynasty. Inner developments in Darius’ court unexpectedly facilitated his efforts, as Darius was betrayed by his close environment. A group from among his nobles decided to assign to Bessus the leadership of the army and the orchestration of the efforts against Alexander. Moreover, upon the news that Alexander was approaching, Satibarzanes, satrap of Areia, and Barsaentes, satrap of Drangiana and Arachosia, stabbed Darius and left him to die shortly before Alexander arrived at that spot. This happened in July of 330 BCE.25 Alexander was again invited to legitimize his intention to continue the expedition in the minds of the Macedonians. Darius’ death undoubtedly marked the end of what was claimed by Alexander to be the war of revenge on the misdeeds perpetrated by the Persians against the Greeks. Alexander was now the conqueror of the Persian Empire, as its most significant areas and their capitals had surrendered to him. What is more, the leading figures of the Persian Empire were surrendering to him one after another. These were the regicides Nabarzanes and Satibarzanes along with Artabazus and his sons. Already in October of 331 BCE, immediately after the victory in Gaugamela, Alexander had anticipated the end of the war of vengeance in his promise to restore Plataea and by sending a part of the spoils to Croton as recognition of Phayllus’ participation in the battle of Salamis in 480 BCE.26 In this spirit, now that Darius too was dead, Alexander ordered Parmenio to take over the demobilization of the troops of the Corinthian League

 24 D.S. 17.64.1–2; Tarn 1948 I, 56; Schachermeyr 1949, 241–242; Fuller 1958, 112; Hamilton 1973, 89; Green 1991, 321–322; Heckel 2009a, 41. 25 D.S. 17.73.2–3; Plu. Alex. 42–43; Arr. An. 3.21.10. Beloch 1925, 17; Tarn 1948 I, 56; Schachermeyr 1949, 243; Fuller 1958, 114 n. 1; Seibert 1972, 139; Bosworth 1988b, 96; Heckel 2009a, 41. 26 Hdt. 8.47; Plu. Alex. 34.2–4. Schachermeyr 1949, 248. On the mission of the loot to Croton, see Schachermeyr 1949, 227; Boddighe 2009, 116.

90  March-Narrative and Characterization and to grant them around 2,000 talents from the treasury of Persepolis.27 This order naturally aroused the Macedonians’ indignation. Watching the other Greeks returning home, they once again reminded Alexander of their wish to be repatriated, and it has been argued that this opposition nearly took the shape of mutiny.28 Nonetheless, the troops were once again confronted by the king’s new argument: the army had to secure the eastern satrapies from Bessus’ plans. This was a pivotal moment of rupture in Alexander’s relationship with his men. The historical development confirmed Alexander’s predictions. During the Macedonians’ stay in Hyrcania, Bessus resorted to his satrapy and started organizing a united war of the eastern satrapies against Alexander. Most importantly, he took up the trappings of kingship, not only in name (by calling himself Artaxerxes) but also in costume (by wearing a flared tiara).29 As Bosworth notes, “not only was he determined to resist Alexander, he was arrogating the kingship itself in the anticipation that the satrapies of the Far East would stand united behind him.”30 Alexander was now officially legitimized in his army’s eyes to continue the war. However, even if the men could now sympathize with their king’s decision to move eastwards, some other developments would spark their indignation towards him. For at this period Alexander imposes some customs of the Persian regal protocol. He adopts certain elements of the Anatolian royal attire, such as the white-striped tunic, the diadem, and the girdle, retaining at the same time the Macedonian cloak and the kausia. He furthermore dresses the Companions with the clothing of the Persian officers and assigns court offices to Persians, with the most imposing figure among them being Darius’ brother Oxyathres.31 Alexander was thereby conveying to the Iranian people the message that he was not taking over the Persian throne as a hostile conqueror, but rather as the legitimate successor of Darius, who respected the state’s institutions and who enjoyed the full support of the Persian court, including distinguished members of the royal family.32 Ingenious and effective as this policy must have been with regard to Alexander’s self-fashioning in the eyes of the Anatolians, it certainly caused an intense domino-effect of opposition on the Macedonians’ part. The latter, being  27 D.S. 17.74.3; Plu. Alex. 42.5; Curt. 6.2.17; Arr. An. 3.19.5–6; Justin 12.1.1–3. Tarn 1948 I, 54; Bosworth 1988b, 97. 28 Bosworth 1976c, 133–134; Bosworth 1988b, 97. 29 D.S. 17.74.1–2; 17.83.7; Tarn 1948 I, 61; Hamilton 1973, 85; Holt 1988, 45–50; Green 1991, 327; Heckel 2008, 87–88; Heckel 2009a, 42. 30 Bosworth 1988b, 99. 31 Beloch 1925, 19; Badian 1965a and b; Bosworth 1980. 32 Beloch 1925, 19–20; Bury 19513, 785–786; Hornblower 19852, 311; Lonsdale 2007, 56–57.

The historical context  91

already sceptical about whether the expedition should be continued in the East, were now even more irritated by Alexander’s embrace of the ‘barbaric’ culture. This act struck many as representing a flagrant deviation from the Macedonian tradition and as an effort on the king’s part to distinguish himself from his Macedonian companions.33 Discontent in the Macedonian circles must also have been elicited by the hardships faced by the army during the pursuit of Bessus. Alexander decided to cross the land of the Parapamisadae in the spring of 329 BCE, in order to enter Bactria, Bessus’ resort.34 Nevertheless, between the Macedonian army and the Bactrian satrap there was an imposing and rough obstacle: the mountain range Hindu Kush. Both during the crossing of those highlands as well as in their march through the desert, extending northward of Hindu Kush up to the river Oxus, Alexander’s forces met with serious challenges of geography, while a significant number of men lost their lives. When the army reached Hindu Kush, the snow had not melted yet and the paths were thus still blocked. The armada thus remained ‘trapped’ in that area waiting for the end of the winter. And although during its stay there the army found supplies from the surrounding villages, it was not equally fortunate in the desert in the following mid-summer. Alexander led his men in a grueling march of 75 kilometers through a waterless and barren land, at the end of which many men died of intemperate water consumption on the Oxus’ banks.35 Their misfortunes did not end even when they reached the Oxus; Bessus had destroyed all vessels of the area, with the result being that it took the already exhausted army five days to cross the river by means of skins filled with dry herbs.36 This synoptic outline certainly does not aim at an in-depth interpretation of the expedition between the battle of Gaugamela and the arrest of Bessus.37 My goal so far was instead to show that in his march-narrative about that period (3.19.1–30.5) Arrian had sundry opportunities, had he wished, to touch upon issues that constitute the main bulk of his narrative criticism of Alexander in Books

 33 D.S. 17.78.1. Droysen 1833, 269–270; Beloch 1925, 19, 24–25; Green 1991, 296ff.; Heckel 2009b, 81. 34 Tarn 1948 I, 65; Schachermeyr 1949, 275; Bury 19513, 789; Fuller 1958, 117; Hamilton 1973, 96; Green 1991, 350–351; Heckel 2009a, 42. 35 Tarn 1948 I, 67; Green 1991, 353. 36 Tarn 1948 I, 67; Bury 19513, 791; Fuller 1958, 117; Hamilton 1973, 97; Green 1991, 354. 37 On this period, see, selectively, Tarn 1948 I, 51–71; 1949, 221–279; Bury 19513, 774–794; Fuller 1958, 107–118; Seibert 1972, 137–142; Hamilton 1973, 84–102; Green 1991, 300–356; Heckel 2009a, 38–42.

92  March-Narrative and Characterization IV–VII. During these two years, issues closely connected with Alexander’s infamous arrogance and lust came to the surface for the first time and more intensely than ever before. The dilemma of whether or not the enterprise had to be continued, Alexander’s adoption of the Anatolian customs, the soldiers’ unwillingness to move further, and the sufferings they went through for the sake of the king’s aspirations, all bore the principal colors in the palette of Alexander’s dark portraiture in the literature about his career from the Hellenistic era up to Arrian’s age. As we will see in the rest of this chapter, although Arrian could have addressed these subjects in ch. 3.19.1–30.5 and thus opened his censure against Alexander in Book III, he waited until the digression of Book IV. This belated discussion of subjects that pertain to the years 330–329 BCE is a deliberate narrative strategy which has a central role in the transition from praise to criticism in the Anabasis.

. The march-narrative of ch. 3.19–22: the pursuit of Darius Let us begin with the account about the pursuit of Darius. The plot unfolds as follows. From Persepolis Alexander begins his march to Media, where, he is told, Darius has made his resort. Darius was intending to remain in Ecbatana and wait for possible complications in Alexander’s affairs, having already sent his caravan (women and valuables) to the Caspian Gates. In his way, Alexander subdues the Paraetacae and arrives at Media after twelve days, having been informed that Darius has gathered his forces and is waiting for him. However, upon his arrival there he learns that Darius did not intend to face him in battle. The Macedonian king swiftly moves to Ecbatana, where Bisthanes, son of Ochus, informs him that Darius has fled five days ago with 7,000 talents and accompanied by an army of 9,000 men. After recording Alexander’s decision to disband the allied army of the Corinthian League and some other decisions about the Macedonian forces, Arrian continues his march-narrative. Escorted by most of his forces, Alexander moves for the Caspian Gates. After nine days of frenetic journeying, the army arrives at Rhagae, which was situated at a distance of one day’s travel from the Caspian Gates. As the men are exhausted and many horses have died of weariness, Alexander stays in Rhagae for five days in order to offer some rest to his men, while he assigns the satrapy of Media to an enemy of Darius, Oxydates. After this, he moves forward and within two days leaves the Caspian Gates behind. At this point, he provides the army with supplies, as he learns that the land to be crossed is a desert. This is also the moment when he is informed by two deserters of Darius’ camp that Darius has been captured by some of his officers (Bessus the sa-

The march-narrative of ch. 3.19–22: the pursuit of Darius  93

trap of Bactria, Satibarzanes the satrap of Areia, Barsaentes the satrap of Drangiana and Arachosia, and the chiliarch Nabarzanes). At the news of this unexpected fortuitous development, Alexander, accompanied by a small number of men, hastens to reach Darius’ camp, but when he arrives there he finds the place empty. He is nonetheless told that the conspirators are transferring Darius in chains in a car and are considering the possibility that, if necessary, they surrender the prisoner to him. At this news and also upon learning that they intend to travel under night, Alexander himself undertakes the march overnight and reaches the conspirators at dawn. In their panic, they flee after stabbing Darius and let him die of his wounds shortly before Alexander reaches the place. The Macedonian king treats the dead body of his enemy with great honor and respect, offering him a royal burial in Persepolis. Arrian ends this account of pursuit with a recapitulative comment on Darius’ life, in which he lays special emphasis on the tragic fate of the man.

.. Framing Arrian embellishes Alexander’s motives in pursuing Darius and his relationship with his troops through an abundance of narrative schemes. To begin with the technique of framing, the end of Darius’ reign does not emerge in the reader’s eyes as an unfair development but as a predestinated goal of the gods. In the Gordian account we are told that, according to the myth, whoever was to succeed in untying the knot would rule Asia (2.3.6).38 Accordingly, in the Issus narrative, the author takes Darius’ strategic mistakes as manifestations of the everlasting divine plan of succession of power from one dynasty to another (in this case from the Persians to the Macedonians) (2.6.6–7).39 Third, the reader has already been informed that Alexander does not run after Darius out of personal empathy but because of his unquestionable right to claim the rule of Asia due to the misdeeds perpetrated by the Persian rulers against the Greeks. This is what Alexander explains both to Darius’ family while quieting them, namely that he will respect their royal status (2.12.5), and to Darius himself in their correspondence (2.14.4–

 38 Cf. Marsyas of Philippi, FGrH 136 F4; Curt. 3.1.14–18; Plu. Alex. 18.2–4; Justin 11.7.3–16; Ael. NA 13.1; scholion to E. Hipp. 671. On Alexander’s conquest of Asia through the prism of this story in ancient literature, and the way that the reader is prepared positively for it, see Stadter 1980, 73; HCA I, 186; Oost 1981, 265–282; AAA I, 397–400; Burke 2001, 256; Munn 2008, 107–109. 39 Brunt 1976, 143; HCA I, 202; AAA I, 412 with further bibliography.

94  March-Narrative and Characterization 9).40 In the latter case, Alexander foreshadows the merciless pursuit of Book III by finishing his letter with the following words: “Do not flee, as I shall pursue you wherever you are” (2.14.9). In light of these passages, Alexander’s pursuit of Darius has already been foreshadowed and presented as an action legitimized by both a human and a divine sense of justice. Moreover, Darius’ flight has already been characterized by the author in various ways as a disgraceful act of cowardice. In the battle descriptions of Issus and Gaugamela, Arrian exploits epic language in order to highlight the anti-heroic nature of Darius’ escape from battle (2.11.5; 3.14.3). What is more, by means of recurring authorial comments (3.1.2: αἰσχρᾷ φυγῇ ἔφυγεν; 3.22.4: ἔφυγέ τε ἐν πρώτοις αἰσχρῶς), the author weaves a net of cross-references underlying Darius’ cowardice in fleeing and thereby juxtaposes him not only with Alexander (2.27.2: τὸ μὴ οὐκ αἰσχρᾷ φυγῇ ὠσθῆναι) but also with Porus (5.18.4–5: οὐχ ᾗπερ Δαρεῖος […] τῆς φυγῆς ἀπεχώρει).41 For this reason, all the details suggesting Darius’ perspicacity in choosing safe itineraries and in anticipating Alexander’s moves highlight not his success in escaping Alexander but rather his timidity.42 In conclusion, the preceding account shapes in advance the ethical basis upon which the reader is invited to read this apparently dry march-narrative. Alexander’s feverish celerity and Darius’ cautiousness, apart from reflecting their intellectual skills, are also judged by the author – and subsequently by the reader – on a moral level. The framework of evaluation of both the pursuer and the pursued is completed by the epilogue of the march-narrative (3.22.1–6): Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ τὸ μὲν σῶμα τοῦ Δαρείου ἐς Πέρσας ἀπέπεμψε, θάψαι κελεύσας ἐν ταῖς βασιλικαῖς θήκαις, καθάπερ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι οἱ πρὸ Δαρείου βασιλεῖς· σατράπην δὲ ἀπέδειξε Παρθυαίων καὶ Ὑρκανίων Ἀμμινάπην Παρθυαῖον· ἦν δὲ οὗτος τῶν Αἴγυπτον ἐνδόντων Ἀλεξάνδρῳ μετὰ Μαζάκου. Τληπόλεμος δὲ Πυθοφάνους τῶν ἑταίρων ξυνετάχθη αὐτῷ σκοπεῖν τὰ ἐν Παρθυαίοις τε καὶ Ὑρκανίοις. τοῦτο τὸ τέλος Δαρείῳ ἐγένετο ἐπὶ ἄρχοντος Ἀθηναίοις Ἀριστοφῶντος μηνὸς Ἑκατομβαιῶνος, ἀνδρὶ τὰ μὲν πολέμια, εἴπερ τινὶ ἄλλῳ, μαλθακῷ τε καὶ οὐ φρενήρει, εἰς δὲ τἆλλα οὐδὲν ἀνεπιεικὲς ἔργον ἀποδειξαμένῳ ἢ οὐδὲ ἐγγενόμενον αὐτῷ ἀποδείξασθαι, ὅτι ὁμοῦ μὲν ἐς τὴν βασιλείαν παρελθεῖν, ὁμοῦ δὲ προσπολεμεῖσθαι πρός τε Μακεδόνων καὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ξυνέβη. οὔκουν οὐδὲ ἐθέλοντι ἐξῆν ἔτι ὑβρίζειν ἐς τοὺς ὑπηκόους ἐν μείζονι κινδύνῳ ἤπερ ἐκεῖνοι καθεστηκότι. ζῶντι μὲν δὴ ξυμφοραὶ αὐτῷ ἄλλαι ἐπ’ ἄλλαις ξυνηνέχθησαν, οὐδέ τις ἀνακωχὴ ἐγένετο ἐπειδὴ πρῶτον ἐς τὴν ἀρχὴν παρῆλθεν· ἀλλὰ εὐθὺς μὲν τὸ τῶν σατραπῶν ἐπὶ Γρανίκῳ πταῖσμα ξυνέβη τὸ ἱππικόν, εὐθὺς δὲ Ἰωνία τε καὶ

 40 Stadter 1980, 103; HCA I, 220–222, 227–233; AAA I, 430–431, 436–439. 41 See, further, Chapter IV, p. 190–195. 42 Cf. Miltsios 2018, 329.

The march-narrative of ch. 3.19–22: the pursuit of Darius  95

Αἰολὶς εἴχοντο καὶ Φρύγες ἀμφότεροι καὶ Λυδία καὶ Κᾶρες πλὴν Ἁλικαρνασσέων· ὀλίγον δὲ ὕστερον καὶ Ἁλικαρνασσὸς ἐξῄρητο, ἐπὶ δὲ ἡ παραλία πᾶσα ἔστε ἐπὶ Κιλικίαν· ἔνθεν δὲ ἡ αὐτοῦ ἐπ’ Ἰσσῷ ἧσσα, ἵνα τήν τε μητέρα αἰχμαλωτισθεῖσαν καὶ τὴν γυναῖκα καὶ τοὺς παῖδας ἐπεῖδεν· ἐπὶ τῷδε Φοινίκη τε ἀπώλετο καὶ Αἴγυπτος πᾶσα· ἐπὶ δὲ αὐτὸς ἐν Ἀρβήλοις ἔφυγέ τε ἐν πρώτοις αἰσχρῶς καὶ στρατιὰν πλείστην παντὸς τοῦ βαρβαρικοῦ γένους ἀπώλεσε· φυγάς τε ἐκ τούτου τῆς αὑτοῦ ἀρχῆς πλανώμενος καὶ τελευτῶν πρὸς τῶν ἀμφ’ αὑτὸν ἐς τὰ ἔσχατα προδοθείς, βασιλεύς τε ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ καὶ δεσμώτης ξὺν ἀτιμίᾳ ἀγόμενος, τέλος δὲ πρὸς τῶν οἰκειοτάτων ἐπιβουλευθεὶς ἀπώλετο. ζῶντι μὲν Δαρείῳ τοιαῦτα ξυνηνέχθη, τελευτήσαντι δὲ ταφή τε ἡ βασιλικὴ καὶ τῶν παίδων ὁποία καὶ βασιλεύοντος αὐτοῦ τροφή τε Ἀλεξάνδρου καὶ παίδευσις, καὶ γαμβρὸς Ἀλέξανδρος. ὁπότε δὲ ἐτελεύτα, ἐγεγόνει ἀμφὶ τὰ πεντήκοντα ἔτη. Alexander sent Darius’ body to Persepolis, ordering it to be buried in the royal tomb, like the other kings who ruled before him. He appointed as satrap of the Parthyaeans and Hyrcanians Amminapes, a Parthyaean; he was of those with Mazaces, who had surrendered Egypt to Alexander. Tlepolemus son of Pythophanes, one of the Companions, was associated in the appointment with him, to superintend Parthyaea and Hyrcania. This was the end of Darius, when Aristophon was archon at Athens in the month Hecatombaeon. No man showed less spirit or sense in warfare; but in other matters he committed no offence, perhaps for lack of opportunity, since the moment of his accession was also the moment of the attack on him by the Macedonians and Greeks. So even if he had had the will, he was no longer free to play the tyrant to his subjects, as his position was more dangerous than theirs. His life was one series of disasters, with no respite, after his accession. The cavalry disaster of his satraps on the Granicus happened at once, and at once Ionia and Aeolis were in the enemies’ hands, with both Phrygias, Lydia and all of Caria except Halicarnassus; the loss of Halicarnassus, and then of all the coast line as far as Cilicia soon followed. Next came his defeat at Issus, where he saw his mother with his wife and children taken prisoners; then Phoenicia and all Egypt were lost; and then he himself was among the first to flee dishonorably at Arbela, and lose the greatest army of the whole barbarian race; a fugitive from his own kingdom and a wanderer, he was at last betrayed by his own escort to the worst of fates, to be at once a king and prisoner carried off in dishonor; finally he perished by a conspiracy of his own connections. These were the tragedies of Darius’ life. After death he had a royal burial and his children were brought up and educated by Alexander as if he were still on the throne, and Alexander married his daughter. At his death he was about fifty years old.

Arrian draws attention again to the same subjects, this time in a more compressed fashion. Alexander’s decision to offer Darius a royal burial and to take care of the upbringing and education of his children confirm Alexander’s reassurances to Darius and his family examined above and is one further – and perhaps the strongest – proof that the pursuit of Darius was a sober strategic choice free from any sign of personal empathy. Arrian seems to imply that, had Alexander managed to catch Darius alive, he would spare his life and treat him with respect. Furthermore, Arrian again foregrounds the issue of Darius’ cowardice, by creating cross-references with the Persian’s flights at Issus and Gaugamela and

96  March-Narrative and Characterization through an explicit personal verdict on the man’s bravery (ἀνδρὶ τὰ μὲν πολέμια, εἴπερ τινὶ ἄλλῳ, μαλθακῷ τε καὶ οὐ φρενήρει). This ‘obituary’ on Darius, which also has the feature of a digression, thereby leads the reader to a retrospective evaluation of the chase of the Persian king by Alexander. This act is once again presented as justified and free from rage, while the pursued is downgraded in the reader’s eyes. It is worth mentioning that the framing of the march-narrative is structured upon Arrian’s compositional innovations. The emphasis on Darius’ cowardice in his flights in Issus and Gaugamela is succeeded by the use of two Homeric stylistic allusions that, as will be demonstrated in Chapter IV, carry distinctive features of Arrian’s style as also found in his other works too, apart from the Anabasis. This means that Arrian embellished the traditional subject of Darius’ dismay with his own style.43 Secondly, as far as the last part of the framing is concerned, Darius’ requiem, we can here too find Arrian’s stylistic peculiarities.44 These observations lead us to the safe conclusion that the ideological coating of the marchnarrative in ch. 3.19–22 stemmed from Arrian’s energetic elaboration of the material at his disposal.

.. Material on the army and its stations Now, the routine information of this march-narrative contributes to the characterization of Alexander even without the help of the preceding or the ensuing plot development. Let us examine the details offered by Arrian about the divisions of the army and the stations. These two subjects are typical features of this kind of narrative in the Anabasis, and they very often serve as markers of Alexander’s

 43 Besides style, the verdict on Darius as expressed in these paragraphs has been traditionally considered to reflect Arrian’s own view. See Strasburger 1934, 36; HCA I, 346; AAA I, 530; and, contra, Kornemann 1935, 132–133. 44 (a) 3.22.2: ἐπὶ ἄρχοντος Ἀθηναίοις Ἀριστοφῶντος μηνὸς Ἑκατομβαιῶνος. Cf. 1.1.1; 2.11.10; 2.24.6; 3.7.1; 3.15.7; 5.19.3; 7.28.1. (b) The prepositional phrases expressing the agent πρός τε Μακεδόνων καὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων (3.22.2) and πρὸς τῶν οἰκειοτάτων (3.22.5), a common feature in the Anabasis. (c) 3.22.2: ἄλλαι ἐπ’ ἄλλαις. Cf., e.g., Praef. 2; 1.2.6; 1.6.3; 1.8.7; 1.11.2; 1.15.4; 2.6.5; 2.7.9; 2.8.2; 2.18.5; 2.21.2; 2.22.4; 2.27.4; 2.27.6; 2.27.7; 3.3.6; 3.25.7; 3.28.5; 3.28.10; 4.14.4; 4.17.5; 4.19.2; 4.27.1; 4.29.6; 4.30.3; 5.9.2; 5.9.3; 5.10.3; 5.13.1; 5.27.6; 6.6.5; 6.7.6; 6.9.6; 6.10.3; 6.10.4; 6.12.1; 6.13.3; 6.29.6; 7.3.5; 7.5.4; 7.14.2; 7.18.1; 7.30.2. (d) 3.22.3: τῶν σατραπῶν ἐπὶ Γρανίκῳ πταῖσμα. Cf. 1.16.3. (e) 3.22.4: τήν τε μητέρα ... ἐπεῖδεν. Cf. 4.9.3. (f) 3.22.4: ἔφυγέ τε ἐν πρώτοις αἰσχρῶς. Cf. 3.1.2; 5.18.4.

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mentality and motives.45 In this case, some data on the divisions and the encampment of the troops lay special emphasis on Alexander’s concern for the safety of his men. One of the key thematic axes in the account of the pursuit of Darius concern the hardships that Alexander put his men through in his effort to catch Darius. Arrian repeatedly emphasizes the exhaustion of the army. However, this element is always counterbalanced by some other information about Alexander’s measurements for the sake of his men. During the march to Rhagae, many men were exhausted and were therefore left behind, while many horses were dying (3.20.1). Although Alexander kept on moving, his concern for his men is suggested by his decision in Rhagae to abandon the idea of capturing Darius in close pursuit and to allow his army to rest for five days (3.20.3). We also read of Alexander’s special cautiousness with regard to his troop’s supply in front of the desert land (3.20.4). We are told again of a short rest of the army in ch. 3.21.3. Lastly, at the culmination of the pursuit, the weariness of the troops is again juxtaposed with Alexander’s decision to leave his infantry behind and replace five hundred of his equestrians with the officers of the infantry and those who had not been exhausted (3.21.7). The march-account about the pursuit of Darius thus unfolds on the basis of two intertwined narrative threads. The one stresses the hardships faced by the men and the exhaustive nature of their march. Nonetheless, the recurring references to this subject do not target the absurdity of Alexander’s decisions, but merely his famous celerity.46 This is because the sense of the army’s exhaustiveness is counterbalanced by a second narrative thread, which highlights the measures taken by the king for the relaxation of his troops. Through this doubly

 45 Jacob 1991. 46 Emphasis on Alexander’s persistence in his effort to capture the Persian ruler is also reinforced by means of epic coloring (cf. AAA I, 525–528), through the antithesis between the difficulties faced by Alexander and his refusal to give up his efforts. First, after a furious pursuit, Alexander’s men are exhausted and the horses are dying. At this point, Arrian writes ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἦγε (3.20.2), introducing in this way the second stage of the pursuit. After narrating two days and nights of marching, Arrian repeats the phrase ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἦγε (3.21.6) in opening the third phase of the plot. The usage of this phrase here resembles similar cases in the Iliad, where a hero keeps fighting despite the obstacles (see Chapter IV, pp. 170–172), the most characteristic parallel being Achilles’ chase of the Trojans (Il. 21.128–133). As Achilles comes after the fleeing Trojans, he says to them: φθείρεσθ’ εἰς ὅ κεν ἄστυ κιχείομεν Ἰλίου ἱρῆς / ὑμεῖς μὲν φεύγοντες, ἐγὼ δ’ ὄπιθεν κεραΐζων. […] ἀλλὰ καὶ ὧς ὀλέεσθε κακὸν μόρον (Die on, all; till we come to the city of sacred Ilion, / you in flight and I killing you from behind. […] And yet / even so, die all an evil death). Alexander is portrayed as pursuing Darius with the same fury with which Achilles runs after the Trojans.

98  March-Narrative and Characterization oriented emphasis, Arrian offers a balanced presentation of the army’s hardships. Through the technique of framing he thus presents the pursuit of Darius as an act that is strategically necessary, legitimate, and free from hatred. Moreover, through these two narrative threads he also highlights Alexander’s sobriety with regard to the troops’ safety in demanding missions. Arrian also embellishes Alexander’s relationship with his troops by deliberately omitting the fact that, after Darius’ death, the Macedonians expressed their unwillingness to continue the expedition to the East. Most sources mention that Alexander was invited at that period to convince his troops that the enterprise should not be ended and that they should follow him eastwards. Diodorus records that the Macedonians considered Darius’ death as the end of the campaign and were therefore ready to return home. However, Alexander gathered them and persuaded them with a speech to follow him (17.74.3).47 Plutarch offers an equally short but more vivid version of the story. In the news of his men’s desire to return to Macedonia, Alexander explained to them that the subdued nations would revolt as soon as they realized that the Macedonians left Asia. He also complained that he was being abandoned by the Macedonians, even though it was for them that he had conquered Asia. His men agreed then to follow him wherever in the world he wished to lead them (Plu. Alex. 47.1–3).48 Curtius too gave great emphasis to this event, composing the most extensive and dramatic surviving episode on the matter. In his account, after Alexander’s order for demobilization of the Greek troops of the Corinthian League and the reward payment of the entire army, rumors spread all over the camp that the expedition was over and that the king had ordered the men to prepare themselves for their repatriation. Curtius zooms in on the Macedonians’ frantic and enthused preparation of their packs for the journey. The king is equally vividly presented as complaining to the officers of his army with tears in his eyes that his glory will remain incomplete in case the enterprise reaches its end at that point. He also convinces them to prepare their men for his speech, in which he explains to the army (as in Plutarch’s account) that the conquered lands are not safe yet, especially as long as Bessus is still free (Curt. 6.2.15–3.18). The presence of this subject in these three authors, as well as in Justin’s Epitome (12.3.2–3), proves that the unwillingness of the Macedonians after Darius’ death to follow Alexander to the eastern satrapies of the Persian Empire was a common theme in the literature of Alexander. Arrian must certainly have read

 47 Böhme 2009, 168; Prandi 2013. 48 Hamilton 1969, 127–128.

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about it in some of his sources – if not in those who were favorable towards Alexander, then at least in those who were more critical towards him.49 However, in his routine report of Alexander’s reorganization of his forces after the battle of Gaugamela, he avoids touching upon the atmosphere of uneasiness in the circles of the Macedonian troops. He merely proceeds with a list of Alexander’s orders about the demobilization of the allied army and the itineraries of different parts of the force, while placing these decisions in Ecbatana and, most importantly, before Darius’ death (3.19.5–8). Even Arrian’s mistake to place the incident before Darius’ death50 does not suffice to show that he had read nothing at all about the Macedonian disquiet towards the prospect of continuing the “Drang nach Osten”, in the period between the victory in Gaugamela and Darius’ end. Arrian’s silence about the Macedonians’ unwillingness to move on should rather be seen as a conscious compositional choice that serves his laus of Alexander at this narrative phase. To begin with, there is no reason to believe that Arrian disagreed with Alexander’s arguments to his men about the necessity of the continuation of the enterprise. Alexander’s reasoning is encapsulated in the best way by Plutarch: “They [sc. the Macedonians] were seen by the barbarians as in a dream, but if they should merely throw Asia into confusion and then leave it, they would be attacked by them as if they were women” (Plu. Alex. 47.1).51 This point must have struck Arrian as absolutely reasonable. The empire could not be entrusted to Asian satraps and rulers in the absence of the Macedonian army. The Asians would then have exploited the opportunity to restore the old status quo. Besides, the immediate historical development confirmed Alexander’s thoughts, given that some months after Darius’ death, Satibarzanes, satrap of Areia, although having surrendered himself and his satrapy to Alexander, revolted in the news that Bessus was organizing in Bactria a war of resistance against Alexander. Arrian must have definitely agreed with Alexander’s plan. The Bithynian historian, the man to whom the Romans entrusted the protection of the remote Cappadocia from the hostile nation of the Alani,52 was no doubt in a position to apprehend that the protection of the frontiers of an empire was a task requiring the

 49 Arrian explicitly states (7.14.3) that he had at his disposal works that were negatively disposed towards Alexander. 50 Bosworth 1976c, 133–134. 51 Transl. Perrin. On Alexander’s policy of that period, see Hamilton 1973, 92–102. 52 D.C. 69.15.1; Them. Or. 34.8; 34.20; Joannes Laurentius Lydus, De magistr. Pop. Rom. 3.53.1 ff. (Roos, T12–14). Cf. Schwartz RE II, 1, cols. 1233–1234; Pelham 1896, 629–639; Bosworth 1972, 165– 166; Brunt 1976, xi–xii; Bosworth 1977; Bosworth 1988a, 23, 31; Stadter 1980, 13, 45; Syme 1982, 201; Tonnet 1988, 43–44; Swain 1996, 246; AAA I, XV.

100  March-Narrative and Characterization vigilant presence of military forces. Arrian passes by the Macedonians’ negativism, because he considers it to be ungrounded and trivial, especially given the fact that Alexander faced no significant difficulty in persuading his men to follow him. Most importantly, the omission of this subject is one further means for Arrian to lead us to a favorable treatment of Alexander’s neglect of his men’s safety in his pursuit of Darius. The routine report of Alexander’s reorganization of his army precedes all the ensuing hardships of the Macedonian army during the strained trek against Darius. In this respect, had Arrian included in those paragraphs the issue of the troops’ disinclination to continue the march, he would have thereby led the reader to make negative associations about Alexander’s concern for his men in each passage where the troops’ exhaustiveness comes to the foreground. Nonetheless, at this certain narrative phase this is definitely not the author’s goal. Arrian rather orientates us towards other aspects of this historical moment, aspects which contribute to the embellishment and not to the dark shading of Alexander’s portrait. Arrian still keeps the reader away from critical verdicts over Alexander’s lust for conquest. This is to come in Books IV–VII. Arrian himself has already presented Alexander as promising to his men in his exhortation on the eve of the battle of Issus that their victory would give an end to their labors (2.7.6). As demonstrated in Chapter I, Arrian contrasts Alexander’s promise of nostos with his lust for conquest in India, exactly because Arrian saw this phase of the expedition as unnecessary for the preservation of the newly established empire. However, the years immediately after the victory at Gaugamela and the death of Darius are treated by the historian very differently; in his mind they do not reflect the king’s greed, but rather constitute measurements of consolidation of the newly established rule of Asia. For this reason, the hardships of the Macedonians during the arduous journey in pursuit of Darius are not presented as a result of the king’s greedy blindness. One step taken by Arrian towards this goal is the omission of the issue of the army’s unwillingness.

. The march-narrative of ch. 3.23.1–30.5: Alexander avenging the murder of Darius Similar techniques are also employed in the chapters about Alexander’s war against the regicides Bessus and Satibarzanes (3.23.1–30.5). This passage relates Alexander’s itinerary from Hyrcania to Sogdiana in the period from Darius’ death until Bessus’ capture. These chapters mirror in the most characteristic way the vigor and the creativity with which Arrian worked on march-narratives in his history of Alexander. Our test-case constitutes a typical example of march-narrative,

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with the pace being fast across almost fourteen pages of the Teubner edition. In this text, we read of seven stations,53 fifteen references to place names, fourteen mentions of the division and organization of the army,54 eleven references to meetings and administrative decisions,55 four geographical digressions,56 and two instances of ethological information.57 Here is a summary of the account. Alexander leads his army to Hyrcania, dividing his forces into three units. We read a march-narrative that, as usual, follows Alexander’s forces, while the activity of the other two parts is given not in parallel narrations but through short analepses at the points where Alexander meets them again.58 After crossing the mountains of Hyrcania, he camps at the plain between those mountains and the Caspian Sea, where many distinguished officials of Darius surrender themselves to him. Among them was Nabarzanes, the chiliarch who, along with Barsaentes and Bessus, had captured Darius. Alexander moves for Zadracarta and in his way Artabazus and his sons surrender themselves to him, while he arrests the envoys of the Greek mercenaries who fought on Darius’ side. After invading the inaccessible area of the Mardi, Alexander returns to his camp, where the Greek mercenaries have already arrived in order to surrender themselves. After this, Alexander continues his march to Zadracarta, where he stays for fifteen days. He enters Aria and in the city of Susia he meets another murderer of Darius, the satrap of the area Satibarzanes, whom he allows to keep his position. At this point, Alexander, on learning that Bessus has usurped the Persian throne and is in Bactra, hastens to reach the city, but Satibarzanes has already defected and decided to join Bessus. For this reason, Alexander suspends his march to Bactra and leads his army back to Artacoana in order to stamp out the revolt. He succeeds, appoints Arsaces to the satrapy of the area, and continues his march to Bactra. He moves to the Ariaspae, whom he allows to be autonomous, while he conquers the Drangians, Gadrosians, and Ara-

 53 3.23.3; 23.4; 25.1; 25.8; 27.4–5; 29.1; 29.6–7. 54 3.23.2–4; 23.6; 24.1; 25.2; 25.4; 25.6; 25.8; 28.4; 29.5; 29.7; 30.1. 55 3.23.4; 23.7–9; 24.3–5; 25.1–2; 25.7; 27.4–5; 28.1; 28.4; 29.5. 56 3.24.3; 28.5–7; 29.2–3. 57 3.24.2; 27.4. The account is less instructive with regard to time, although we also have here two cases, where we are informed of the duration of Alexander’s stay in a certain place, and three temporal markers on the distance covered in certain number of days. Both are markers which stress the Macedonians’ fastness. Last, Arrian very carefully focuses on the organization of the army in three portions and their reunification during the march, without, at the same time, neglecting to mention the new governor assigned by Alexander for each conquered area. 58 For this technique see Chapter III, pp. 124–125.

102  March-Narrative and Characterization chosians. Afterwards, he crosses Hindu Kush and the river Oxus. Eventually, Bessus suffers the same disgrace he perpetrated at the expense of Darius: he is arrested and surrendered by his own men to Ptolemy, who leads him to Alexander. Bessus is sentenced to death. As in our analysis of the pursuit account, we will demonstrate that in this march-narrative too Arrian does much more than blandly recording details. Once again, all the typical data of a march-narrative, being governed by a certain ideological axis, lead to a specific narrative goal. In particular, it will be argued that in these chapters Arrian moves beyond the narrow limits of a ‘dry’ annalistic account, and that he endeavors to offer a romantic picture of this phase of the expedition. This narrative portrays Alexander as the just punisher of the murderers of Darius. Through the technique of framing and an abundance of other narrative means (repetition, omission, and temporal displacement), Arrian plays down the realistic dimension of Alexander’s ‘Machtpolitik’. Instead he presents the war against Bessus and Satibarzanes as an act of vengeance of Darius’ murder and as an effort to restore justice through the punishment of the regicides. Basic ingredients of this rhetoric are the routine data of march-narratives, such as references to administrational decisions, geographical information, use of place-names, and office assignments.

.. Framing Let us begin with the technique of framing. The account is introduced by the extensive ‘obituary’ comment on Darius’ life (3.22.2–6). As we saw, this passage recapitulates Alexander’s successes,59 as Arrian evaluates and analyzes some events in the same way he had done when narrating them. The defeat of the Persians at the Granicus is again attributed to the Persian generals’ mistake (cf. 1.16.3), while Darius’ flight is characterized as disgraceful (αἰσχρῶς). This description echoes the anti-heroic colors in which Arrian had described it in the main battle description.60 What is, however, more important is that all these are presented in such a way that they focus on Darius. This recapitulative summary constitutes a biographical overview of Darius’ life, with the focus lying on the individual and not on the historical development. This is succeeded through means widely employed in biographical works, such as the accumulation of phrases that depict  59 HCA I, 347; Stadter 1980, 82; AAA I, 530. 60 HCA I, 347. See also Chapter IV, pp. 190–195.

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the superlative degree of certain qualities of the individual (ἀνδρὶ τὰ μὲν πολέμια, εἴπερ τινὶ ἄλλῳ, μαλθακῷ τε καὶ οὐ φρενήρει, εἰς δὲ τἆλλα οὐδὲν ἀνεπιεικὲς ἔργον ἀποδειξαμένῳ),61 or information that does not concern the plot, such as Darius’ age when he died. Arrian also employs some rhetorical schemes, whereby he invites the reader to pity the Persian king for his tragic fate.62 All the events are recapitulated within a ring composition (τοῦτο τὸ τέλος Δαρείῳ ἐγένετο … ζῶντι μὲν Δαρείῳ τοιαῦτα ξυνηνέχθη), not as being Alexander’s exploits but as Darius’ calamities. The Herodotean verb ξυνηνέχθη, usual in classical historiography in references to calamities,63 intensifies the tragic tone of the passage even further. The Macedonian march is presented as being a threat not so much for the Persians but mostly for the king himself (ἐν μείζονι κινδύνῳ ἤπερ ἐκεῖνοι καθεστηκότι). This shift of interest also emerges through the emphasis on Darius’ emotional reaction to the news that his family was captured by Alexander after the battle of Issus.64 While Arrian elsewhere uses the theme of Darius’ family in order to praise Alexander for his generosity, magnanimity, and self-restraint (2.12.3–8; 4.20.1–3),65 he examines it here from Darius’ perspective. Last, Darius’ disasters culminate in his arrest and murder by his own officials. A series of contrasts, structured on the basis of stylistic analogies (φυγάς τε ἐκ τούτου τῆς αὑτοῦ ἀρχῆς πλανώμενος καὶ τελευτῶν πρὸς τῶν ἀμφ’ αὑτὸν ἐς τὰ ἔσχατα προδοθείς, βασιλεύς τε ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ καὶ δεσμώτης ξὺν ἀτιμίᾳ ἀγόμενος, τέλος δὲ πρὸς τῶν οἰκειοτάτων ἐπιβουλευθεὶς ἀπώλετο), underlines the unjust nature of Nabarzanes, Barsaentes and Bessus’ betrayal. It is true that Darius’ ‘obituary’, as every pivotal point of a narrative, is multifunctional. The polysyndeton at the beginning of the passage magnifies the success of Alexander and the Macedonians, while Darius is repeatedly depicted in a pejorative way. Specifically, he is presented as a coward; he never wronged his people, partly because he did not have the time to do it. His flight at Gaugamela is equally negatively recorded.66 However, the plethora of rhetorical tragic  61 Cf. Bosworth 1988a, 135, 139, who discerns in Arrian’s superlatives in the epilogue of the Anabasis an influence from Xenophon’s encomium to Cyrus and Agesilaus. 62 Bosworth (HCA I, 346) writes that “the passage is no more than an exercise in rhetoric”, without however examining in detail its rhetorical schemes. 63 Liotsakis 2015, 288–290. 64 The tragic dimension of Darius is reflected by the aspect of visualization (ἔπεῖδεν; cf. the same technique in Lanice’s case (4.9.3), Alexander’s nurse, who ‘saw’ her sons and her brother Clitus dying for and by Alexander). 65 See next chapter, pp. 129–131. 66 Badian 2000, 242.

104  March-Narrative and Characterization schemes mentioned above emphasizes the betrayal Darius suffered, and generates a chain of echoes at carefully collected points of the following narrative. As we will see in what follows, these echoes continuously re-introduce the theme of this unit until the capture of Bessus, namely the traitors’ moral misdeed and Alexander’s justice in punishing them. In this way, the biographical summary of Darius’ life shapes the emotional and moral framework, within which the reader is invited to evaluate and react in a specific way to the punishment of the traitors by Alexander in the ensuing account. Their punishment emerges as a moral vindication and emotional catharsis for the reader and as the main prism through which Alexander is characterized. The framework is completed in the chapters on the capture and condemnation of Bessus (3.30.2–5): οἱ δὲ ἐδέχοντο τοὺς ξὺν Πτολεμαίῳ ἐς τὴν κώμην. καὶ Πτολεμαῖος ξυλλαβὼν Βῆσσον ὀπίσω ἐπανῄει. προπέμψας δὲ ἤρετο Ἀλέξανδρον, ὅπως χρὴ ἐς ὄψιν ἄγειν Ἀλεξάνδρου Βῆσσον. καὶ Ἀλέξανδρος γυμνὸν ἐν κλοιῷ δήσαντα οὕτως ἄγειν ἐκέλευσε καὶ καταστήσαντα ἐν δεξιᾷ τῆς ὁδοῦ, ᾗ αὐτός τε καὶ ἡ στρατιὰ παρελεύσεσθαι ἔμελλε. καὶ Πτολεμαῖος οὕτως ἐποίησεν. Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ ἰδὼν τὸν Βῆσσον ἐπιστήσας τὸ ἅρμα ἤρετο ἀνθ’ ὅτου τὸν βασιλέα τὸν αὑτοῦ καὶ ἅμα καὶ οἰκεῖον καὶ εὐεργέτην γενόμενον Δαρεῖον τὰ μὲν πρῶτα ξυνέλαβε καὶ δήσας ἦγεν, ἔπειτα ἀπέκτεινε. καὶ ὁ Βῆσσος οὐ μόνῳ οἷ ταῦτα δόξαντα πρᾶξαι ἔφη, ἀλλὰ ξὺν τοῖς τότε ἀμφὶ Δαρεῖον οὖσιν, ὡς σωτηρίαν σφίσιν εὑρέσθαι παρ’ Ἀλεξάνδρου. Ἀλέξανδρος δὲ ἐπὶ τοῖσδε μαστιγοῦν ἐκέλευεν αὐτὸν καὶ ἐπιλέγειν τὸν κήρυκα ταὐτὰ ἐκεῖνα ὅσα αὐτὸς τῷ Βήσσῳ ἐν τῇ πύστει ὠνείδισε. Βῆσσος μὲν δὴ οὕτως αἰκισθεὶς ἀποπέμπεται ἐς Βάκτρα ἀποθανούμενος. καὶ ταῦτα Πτολεμαῖος ὑπὲρ Βήσσου ἀνέγραψεν· Ἀριστόβουλος δὲ τοὺς ἀμφὶ Σπιταμένην τε καὶ Δαταφέρνην Πτολεμαίῳ ἀγαγεῖν Βῆσσον καὶ παραδοῦναι Ἀλεξάνδρῳ γυμνὸν ἐν κλοιῷ δήσαντας. They admitted Ptolemy and his troops into the village, and after seizing Bessus he retired. Then he sent a messenger ahead and asked Alexander in what way he should bring Bessus into his presence. Alexander ordered him to bring Bessus bound, naked, and wearing a wooden collar, and set him on the right of the road by which Alexander and his army were to pass. Ptolemy did so. On seeing Bessus Alexander stopped his car and asked him why he had first seized Darius, who had been his king, and in addition his relative and benefactor, led him about in chains, and then murdered him. Bessus replied that he had acted not by any private decision of his own but in concert with all then attending on Darius, to obtain immunity from Alexander. At this Alexander ordered him to be whipped and the herald to announce during the whipping the crimes for which he himself had blamed Bessus in his question. After this torture Bessus was sent to Bactra to be put to death. This is Ptolemy’s account of Bessus. Aristobulus, however, says that it was followers of Spitamenes and Dataphernes who took Bessus to Ptolemy and handed him over to Alexander naked and bound, wearing a wooden collar.

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Alexander’s dialogue with Bessus was a very popular scene in the tradition of Alexander’s life. Therefore, we can compare Arrian’s version with those of other authors, in order to apprehend Arrian’s perspective in more depth. Specifically, while in Curtius Rufus (7.5.39–40) the main subject of the dialogue is Bessus’ usurpation of the throne,67 Arrian pays no attention to this. Of course, it is Curtius’ more realistic version that corresponds to Alexander’s true motives in being so cruel towards Bessus. The tortures and mutilation of this man were a loud message from Alexander to all aspiring contenders of the Persian throne and to potential defectors, while Alexander’s resentment, if he had any, towards the injustice perpetrated against Darius must not have been so intense that it affected his judgment and decisions in administrative affairs.68 On the contrary, Arrian presents him as being the just punisher of the corrupted Persian politicians and as the sensitive defender of the tragic figure of Darius.

.. Individuals and peoples loyal to the Persian king Arrian shaped the details he received from his sources in such a way that he stresses the issue of the injustice Darius’ men committed against him. First, he repeatedly draws our attention to Alexander’s attitude towards the loyalty shown to Darius by individuals or peoples. The first episode of this kind takes place during Alexander’s way to Zadracarta. While the army is encamped, Artabazus and his sons visit him. Alexander, Arrian writes, welcomed them and offered them many honors, both because they were all distinguished men of the Persian Empire and because they remained loyal to Darius until the very end (3.23.7: τῆς ἐς Δαρεῖον πίστεως ἕνεκα, an echo of ch. 3.21.4). Arrian here touches upon Alexander’s respect to the status and trustfulness of an official, two subjects introduced in the obituary of Darius. In order to evaluate Alexander’s generosity and highmindedness, the reader must recall the role of Artabazus’ son Pharnabazus in the Aegean War, as described in Book ΙΙ. Pharnabazus was assigned with the orchestration of the Persian efforts to transfer the war in the Aegean. Along with the Rhodian Memnon and afterwards in cooperation with Autophradates, he set about the revolts of Cos, Lesbus, and Tenedus, thus forcing the Macedonians to send ships that would protect the islands of the Aegean (2.1.3ff.; 13.4ff.; 3.2.3–7). Through the prism of Pharnabazus’ leading role in those events, Alexander’s lack

 67 Cf. HCA I, 376. 68 Ibid.

106  March-Narrative and Characterization of resentment towards this man’s father is even more striking. Alexander is presented as appreciating Pharnabazus’ devotion to Darius more than anything else.69 Arrian’s interest in the loyalty shown to Darius by his men becomes even more striking if we consider the fact that Arrian touches upon this subject only here throughout the Anabasis. Nowhere else in the work is the assignment of an office to an Asian individual by Alexander presented as the reward for his former devotion to the Persian king. Just to mention a handful of striking examples, in Book II we read that Alexander spared the life of Azemilcus, king of Tyre, but Arrian does not bother explaining why Alexander, despite his general cruel treatment of the Tyrians, did not execute this man (2.24.5). In Book III, Mazaeus, the head of the troops that were to block Alexander’s way on the bank of the Euphrates (3.7.1) and the commander of the Syrians in the battle of Gaugamela (3.8.6), is offered by Alexander the satrapy of Babylonia. In Book IV, Atropates, one of the heads of Darius’ army in the battle of Gaugamela (3.8.4), is assigned by Alexander with the satrapy of Media. All these individuals had been loyal to Darius and offered to him their services. However, nowhere in the work does Arrian seem willing to explain why Alexander chose to use them in his newly conquered Empire. Nor is he interested in attributing Alexander’s choice to his respect of the services they offered to Darius. This subject strikingly predominates exclusively in the office assignments recorded after Darius’ death in ch. 3.22.2–30.5. After a few paragraphs, we find the next episode. After conquering the Mardi, Alexander returns to the camp, where he was visited by a group of envoys. He meets there Darius’ Greek mercenaries as well as ambassadors from Sparta and Sinope. Although he arrests the Spartan envoys, he sets the Sinopeans free, because, in his opinion, they did nothing unjust in supporting Darius. They were his subjects and had the right to send to him their embassies (3.24.4). Alexander’s respect to the loyalty of Darius’ subjects is once again brought to the foreground. Alexander comes to Asia not as an avenger of all those who stood in his way, but as the new generous king. This subject is also highlighted by the exploitation of ethnographic data. In ch. 3.27.4–5, we read of the king’s arrival at the land of the Ariaspae. This people, Arrian explains, had been named by the Persians as “Benefactors” in recognition of the help they had offered to Cyrus during his campaign against the Scythians. Alexander allowed them to remain autonomous due to their ancestors’ services to Cyrus a few centuries ago. The rewards offered to the Ariaspae for their loyalty  69 Curtius’ emotional account (3.13.12–15) on the tragic fortune of these men’s families (i.e. their capture in Damascus by Alexander’s forces under the command of Parmenio) stands in sharp contrast with Arrian’s favorable scope as regards Alexander’s relationships with them.

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to Cyrus was a common subject in the literary tradition of Alexander, as testified by Curtius’ account. The correspondence between Arrian’s version and Curtius’ can be explained in – at least – two different ways: (a) both historians draw from the same source or (b) this story was also found in sources unknown to Arrian but known to Curtius. In the second case, it can be assumed that Alexander’s respect for the Ariaspae’s aid to Cyrus must have been a widespread motif in more than one source before Arrian. Furthermore, this was also one further occasion on which Alexander wished to present himself to the Iranian people as the legitimate successor of Darius and the protector of the Persian throne.70 Arrian thus exploits a propagandistic story that was initially targeted at the Iranian people as one further proof to his Greco-Roman audience of Alexander’s clementia in this phase of the expedition. Arrian’s claim that Alexander respected the Ariaspae’s autonomy is invalid. Diodorus (17.81.2) and Curtius (7.3.4) inform us that Alexander appointed a governor for them, which means that he did not let them go free. Although it has been argued that they themselves chose a native as their governor, the view that they were rather forced to accept a ruler of Alexander’s choice and that they paid taxes seems to be more realistic, as it is more compatible with the picture we have of Alexander’s tactic in such cases.71 The Ariaspae’s freedom due to their loyalty to Cyrus should be better taken as an exaggeration, which Arrian either fabricated or took advantage of in his effort to highlight one further incident that exemplifies Alexander’s attitude towards the issue of loyalty or disloyalty to a king. All these passages on Alexander’s appreciation of the loyalty shown to Darius and Cyrus by an individual or a people prepare the reader for Alexander’s relentless treatment of the two regicides, Barsaentes and Bessus. Whoever served and did not abandon the Persian king is rewarded by Alexander and thus serves as a foil for the traitors. The latter’s punishment thus comes as a natural consequence of their treason and serves as an expected development of it, given Alexander’s sensitivity in matters of devotion. Furthermore, just like the narrative thread on Alexander’s concern for his troops in the pursuit account, this narrative thread also contributes to the favorable characterization of Alexander, in that it emphasizes virtues such as his respect to other kings, his sense of justice and the will to restore it, and his respect to the principles of retribution and recompense.

 70 Droysen 1833, 263; Hamilton 1973, 96; Wiesehöfer 1980; Brosius 2003, 175; Heckel 2009a, 42; Nawotka 2010, 268; Müller 2011, 114–116; Bichler 2013, 52–61. On the similarities of Alexander’s policy towards the Ariaspae and Nysa, see Bosworth 1988b, 121–122. 71 On this matter, see HCA I, 366 and AAA I, 544–545 with further bibliography.

108  March-Narrative and Characterization In this way, this narrative thread offers to the account from Darius’ death until Bessus’ arrest a common ideological axis and thereby contributes to the coherence of the plot. This is because Darius’ death and Bessus’ capture are not merely arrayed next to each other as two strategic moves in a chronological sequence; they also have a causal relationship. In other words, in the Anabasis we are not merely told that Alexander exterminated Darius and then Bessus, but that he killed Bessus in order to punish him for murdering Darius. Arrian transforms a routine list of movements and administrational decisions into a story with a beginning, middle and an end, and a pronounced ideological orientation. Alexander’s decisions are not merely listed with the criterion of their chronological order; they exemplify his virtue and culminate in his words to Bessus.

.. The regicides Arrian forces us to think again of the betrayal against Darius in the narration of the Macedonian invasion in the territory of the Drangians. Barsaentes, satrap of the Drangians and one of Darius’ murderers, is warned about Alexander’s imminent arrival in his area and flees east of the Indus. Arrian’s account on his eventual fate ends with these words (3.25.8): Βαρσαέντης δέ, ὃς τότε κατεῖχε τὴν χώραν, εἷς ὢν τῶν ξυνεπιθεμένων Δαρείῳ ἐν τῇ φυγῇ, προσιόντα Ἀλέξανδρον μαθὼν ἐς Ἰνδοὺς τοὺς ἐπὶ τάδε τοῦ Ἰνδοῦ ποταμοῦ ἔφυγε. ξυλλαβόντες δὲ αὐτὸν οἱ Ἰνδοὶ παρ’ Ἀλέξανδρον ἀπέστειλαν, καὶ ἀποθνήσκει πρὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου τῆς ἐς Δαρεῖον ἀδικίας ἕνεκα. Barsaentes, who was then in occupation of the country, and was one of those who had joined in attacking Darius on his flight, on learning that Alexander was approaching, fled to the Indians on this side of the river Indus. But they seized him and sent him to Alexander, who put him to death for the wrong he had done Darius.

This is a timeless addition of an event by association with its context, a common feature in the Anabasis. From a linguistic point of view, the surrender of Barsaentes to Alexander and his execution are placed next to the previous events in such a way that the reader conveys the impression that the narration is rectilinear, due to the condensed form of the account and the absence of temporal markers. However, as we know from other sources, the Indians sent Barsaentes to Alexander in 326 BCE, four years after the dramatic time of the account under

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examination.72 We need not suggest that Arrian did not know exactly when Barsaentes died. The prolepsis should not be seen as a mistake but as an intentional placement of the event within the thematic environment where, in the author’s mind, this event belongs. This is a common feature in the Anabasis.73 In this way, this information, placed next to the rest of the echoes on Darius’ traitors, becomes more effective than it would have been, if it was narrated at the narrative point to which it temporally belongs. Had Arrian chosen to record it in the account of the expedition in India, Barsaentes’ death would merely have been a routine reminder unconnected to its context. Arrian names four instigators of Darius’ murder: Nabarzanes, Barsaentes, Satibarzanes, and Bessus (3.21.1; 3.21.10). It is telling that in the march-narrative of ch. 3.23.1–30.5, when referring to these men, Arrian returns only to Barsaentes’ and Bessus’ betrayal. In this way, Arrian undoubtedly lays special emphasis on the immorality of the treason. This view is strengthened even further by the fact that in the Anabasis Arrian rarely reminds the reader of an individual’s misdeed with such intensity. Elsewhere, he follows this practice only in the case of the deserter Amyntas, son of Antiochus. Arrian mentions Amyntas four times in his work, each time recalling his decision to abandon Alexander and to join Darius (1.17.9; 1.25.3; 2.6.3; 2.13.2). In this way, Arrian builds a series of cross-references, whereby he predisposes the reader negatively against Amyntas and leads her to the conclusion that he deserved to die in the way he did. Likewise, the recurring mentions to Bessus’ and Barsaentes’ betrayal against Darius aim to turn the reader against these individuals and make her sympathize with Alexander’s willingness to punish them. On the other hand, Arrian passes over Nabarzanes’ and Satibarzanes’ involvement, when he narrates that they surrendered themselves to Alexander. Nabarzanes joined the Macedonian king alongside Phrataphernes, the satrap of Hyrcania and the Parthyaeans, and other distinguished men of the Persians (3.23.4). Satibarzanes surrendered in Susia. Alexander not only did not kill him but reassigned to him the satrapy of Areia (3.25.1–2). Arrian merely offers us a reminder of their office in the Persian Empire. For Nabarzanes we read the phrase “Darius’ chiliarch” and for Satibarzanes the phrase “the satrap of the Areians”, which also recurs three paragraphs later (3.25.5). In Nabarzanes’ case in particular, it is true that the reminder of his office helps the reader recall his involvement in Darius’ arrest, given that in that chapter too the reader has already read a similar phrase, “chiliarch of the cavalry which had shared Darius’ flight” (3.21.1).  72 Curt. 8.13.3–4. HCA I, 359; AAA I, 538. 73 See next chapter, pp. 143–149.

110  March-Narrative and Characterization However, this reminder is much weaker than the explicit references to Bessus’ and Barsaentes’ treason. The reminders of Nabarzanes’ and Satibarzanes’ offices should rather be seen just as examples of Arrian’s typical practice of repeating to the reader the duties of the Asian individuals met by Alexander in the course of his march. In this way, Arrian merely helps the reader keep up with the constant addition and repetition of names and offices.74 Arrian thus consciously avoids reminding us of Satibarzanes and Nabarzanes’ treason. And in doing so, he aims to deemphasize the fact that Alexander did not punish them, in contrast to the punishment that he did mete out to Barsaentes and Bessus. The image which the author aims to build for his hero is that of the just punisher of the murderers of Darius. The fact that Alexander welcomed two of them in his court does not fit with this image, which is why it is deemphasized. Arrian, of course, deliberately embellishes Alexander’s motives in his treatment of the regicides. Although leading us to the conclusion that Alexander opposed Barsaentes and Bessus due to their treasonous conduct against Darius, Arrian was well aware of the fact that Alexander did not have sensitivities of this kind. This view is supported by the fact that it is Arrian himself who informs us, although in a deemphasizing fashion, that Alexander warmly welcomed Satibarzanes in Susia, allowing him to retain his position as a satrap of Areia. Most strikingly, he seems to have been so confident about Satibarzanes’ support that he left in Areia only forty mounted javelin-men under Anaxippus’ command. Satibarzanes faced no difficulties in slaughtering them all after a while. Alexander welcomed the surrender of the other regicide, Nabarzanes, with the same clemency and confidence. All these elements suggest that for Alexander the lack of devotion of the regicides to Darius was definitely not to be taken as a moral misdeed or as a sign of their unreliability. On the contrary, in Alexander’s mind this was – at least initially – one of the strongest guarantees that these men would remain loyal to him. More importantly, by accepting them as parts of his kingdom, he intended to spread a loud message to his Anatolian subjects that he was being recognized as a legitimate owner of the Persian throne by everyone, both Darius’ friends and foes. Later on, Alexander would oppose Bessus not because he killed Darius but because he revolted and questioned Alexander’s rule. Accordingly,

 74 Cf., e.g., 1.2.2 and 1.4.6 on Syrmus; 1.5.1, 1.5.6, and 1.5.8 on Glaucias; 1.12.8 and 1.16.3 on Spithridates; 1.15.7 and 1.16.3 on Mithridates, Darius’ son in law; the reminder in 2.11.8 of Arsames, Rheomithres, and Atizyes’ commandership of the Persian cavalry in the battle of the Granicus; 2.13.7 and 2.20.1 on Gerostratus; 1.17.3 and 3.16.5 on Mithrenes; 3.8.4, 3.23.4, 4.7.1, 4.18.1, 5.20.7, and 6.27.3 on Phrataphernes; 3.29.2 and 4.15.5 on Artabazus; 4.30.4 and 5.20.7 on Sisicottus; 6.29.3, 7.4.5, and 7.13.2 on Atropates.

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Alexander’s hostility towards Barsaentes should be seen as a precautionary measure motivated not by Alexander’s sense of justice but by his fear that Barsaentes would sooner or later follow Satibarzanes’ example and join Bessus.75 The policy to be adopted towards the Iranian officers and the Anatolian peoples that had energetically opposed the Macedonians until Darius’ end must have been of great significance for Alexander, long before his victory in Gaugamela. In the first months after Darius’ death, this issue must have been raised more demandingly than ever before. Alexander’s strategy is crystal clear: clemency towards those who willingly surrender themselves and their satrapies and recognize his rule of Asia, and paradigmatic punishment for those who resist or are expected to do so. 76 It is hard to believe that Arrian treated the matter so superficially that he explained Alexander’s policy only through the prism of the mask of ‘the punisher of the regicides’. Despite Arrian’s dexterous efforts to conceal the veiled nature of this propagandistic catchword, some other passages in the Anabasis prove that he could and did approach Alexander’s activity of that period with a much more perceptive eye. For example, in ch. 3.18.11–12, we read of Alexander’s decision to burn the royal palace at Persepolis. Arrian openly questions Alexander’s propagandistic pretext that he wanted to avenge the injustices perpetrated by the Persians at the expense of the Greeks in the Persian Wars. He invites the reader to agree with Parmenio’s advice to Alexander to spare the palace, since its burning would lead the Asians to the conclusion that Alexander “had not decided to retain the empire of Asia but only to conquer and pass on”. In response Arrian concludes that “I too do not think that Alexander showed good sense in this action nor that he could punish Persian of a long past age.” Furthermore, in the episode of Alexander’s visit at Media, Arrian draws our attention to the fact that Alexander’s decision to assign the satrapy of Media to Oxydates was mainly motivated by the fact that this man “had been arrested by Darius and imprisoned at Susa; this made Alexander trust him” (3.20.3).77 Last but not least, in the epilogue to the Anabasis, Arrian admits that Alexander exploited the adoption of Asiatic customs  75 On Alexander’s policy towards the murderers of Darius, especially Bessus, see Tarn 1948 I, 54–56, 61–62; Bury 19513, 787–794; Fuller 1958, 115–123; Hamilton 1973, 92–101; Bosworth 1988b, 104–109; Holt 1988, 45–50, 52–57; Green 1991, 327–338; Müller 2003, 171–173; Strauss 2003, 152– 153; Heckel 2009a, 41–42. 76 Droysen 1833, 265–270; Tarn 1948 I, 59–60; Bury 19513, 785–786, 794; Fuller 1958, 268–276; Badian 1964b, 195–196; Hamilton 1973, 85–86, 88; Hornblower 19852, 309–310; Green 1991, 299– 300; Fredricksmeyer 2000; Brosius 2003, 173ff.; Müller 2003, 169–179; Briant 2010, 15–20, 111– 116; Olbrycht 2010, 359. 77 Cf. 4.22.8. HCA I, 338; AAA I, 525.

112  March-Narrative and Characterization in his effort to control both the Anatolians and the Macedonians (7.29.3–4). Arrian was well aware of the fact that Bessus’ humiliating and severe punishment was one of these eastern customs (4.7.4). Arrian had thus clearly penetrated the true aspects of Alexander’s policy of that time towards the Asian officers. He apprehended and concurred with Alexander’s decision to earn the trust of the Asians by presenting himself to them as part of the Persian Empire, and not as a hostile conqueror. He also knew that the adoption of the Asian customs was part of these tactics, that the severe mutilation of Bessus was one further Asian custom against the aspiring usurpers of the throne, and that Alexander, by following this custom, was endeavoring to consolidate himself in the eyes of the Asians as the legitimate owner and protector of the Persian throne. In this respect, Arrian’s choice in ch. 3.19.1–30.5 to orientate the reader mostly towards Alexander’s alleged romantic sense of justice in the way that he treated the regicides does not reflect his naivety or his inability to read between the lines of his pro-Macedonian sources. Rather, it reflects his studied choice to use this pro-Macedonian propaganda as part of his own rhetoric.

.. Geographic data The narrative goal of the unit is served by geography too. Arrian dedicates shorter (3.23.1 on Hyrcania and 3.24.2–3 on the territory of the Mardi) or more extensive (3.28.5–7 on Hindu Kush and 3.29.2–4 on the Oxus) digressions, where he instructs the reader about the location, geomorphology, and the inhabitants of the areas visited by the Macedonians. This information is closely connected to its context, as it sheds light on Alexander’s plans and choices. The roughness of the Hyrcanian Mountains is the reason why the king decided to divide his army into three portions and to charge Erigyius with the transferring of the wagons and the baggage to Hyrcania through the longer but safer highroad. In this way, Craterus and his unit would not lose time and focus on their mission to subdue the Tapurians, flushing the Greek mercenaries out of their hideouts in those mountains. The lengthier digressions on the Mardi, the Oxus and Hindu Kush have a similar explanatory role. In ch. 3.28.4–7, Arrian narrates the crossing of Hindu Kush by Alexander and his forces: ἐν τούτῳ δὲ Ἀλέξανδρος πρὸς τὸν Καύκασον τὸ ὄρος ἦγεν, ἵνα καὶ πόλιν ἔκτισε καὶ ὠνόμασεν Ἀλεξάνδρειαν· καὶ θύσας ἐνταῦθα τοῖς θεοῖς ὅσοις νόμος αὐτῷ ὑπερέβαλε τὸ ὄρος τὸν Καύκασον, σατράπην μὲν τῇ χώρᾳ ἐπιτάξας Προέξην, ἄνδρα Πέρσην, τῶν δὲ ἑταίρων Νειλόξενον τὸν Σατύρου ἐπίσκοπον ξὺν στρατιᾷ ἀπολιπών.

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τὸ δὲ ὄρος ὁ Καύκασος ὑψηλὸν μέν ἐστιν ὥσπερ τι ἄλλο τῆς Ἀσίας, ὡς λέγει Ἀριστόβουλος, ψιλὸν δὲ τὸ πολὺ αὐτοῦ τό γε ταύτῃ. μακρὸν γὰρ ὄρος παρατέταται ὁ Καύκασος, ὥστε καὶ τὸν Ταῦρον τὸ ὄρος, ὃς δὴ τὴν Κιλικίαν τε καὶ Παμφυλίαν ἀπείργει, ἀπὸ τοῦ Καυκάσου εἶναι λέγουσι καὶ ἄλλα ὄρη μεγάλα, ἀπὸ τοῦ Καυκάσου διακεκριμένα ἄλλῃ καὶ ἄλλῃ ἐπωνυμίᾳ κατὰ ἤθη τὰ ἑκάστων. ἀλλὰ ἔν γε τούτῳ τῷ Καυκάσῳ οὐδὲν ἄλλο ὅτι μὴ τέρμινθοι πεφύκασι καὶ σίλφιον, ὡς λέγει Ἀριστόβουλος· ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἐπῳκεῖτο πολλοῖς ἀνθρώποις καὶ πρόβατα πολλὰ καὶ κτήνη ἐνέμοντο, ὅτι καὶ χαίρουσι τῷ σιλφίῳ τὰ πρόβατα, καὶ εἰ ἐκ πολλοῦ πρόβατον σιλφίου αἴσθοιτο, καὶ θεῖ ἐπ’ αὐτὸ καὶ τό τε ἄνθος ἐπινέμεται καὶ τὴν ῥίζαν ἀνορύττον καὶ ταύτην κατεσθίει. ἐπὶ τῷδε ἐν Κυρήνῃ ὡς μακροτάτω ἀπελαύνουσι τὰς ποίμνας τῶν χωρίων, ἵνα αὐτοῖς τὸ σίλφιον φύεται. οἱ δὲ καὶ περιφράσσουσι τὸν χῶρον, τοῦ μηδὲ εἰ πελάσειεν αὐτῷ πρόβατα, δυνατὰ γενέσθαι εἴσω παρελθεῖν, ὅτι πολλοῦ ἄξιον Κυρηναίοις τὸ σίλφιον. Meanwhile Alexander led his army to Mount Caucasus, where he founded a city he called Alexandria. There he sacrificed to the gods to whom he customarily sacrificed, and then crossed the Mount Caucasus, appointing as satrap of the district Proexes, a Persian, with Niloxenus son of Satyrus, one of the Companions, as overseer in command of troops. Mount Caucasus, according to Aristobulus, is as high as any mountain in Asia; most of it is bare, at least on this side. In fact it is a long mountain range, so that they say that even Mount Taurus, which forms the boundary of Cilicia and Pamphylia, is really a part of Mount Caucasus as well as other great mountains which have been distinguished from Mount Caucasus by various names traditional among the different peoples. In this particular Mount Caucasus, however, nothing grows save terebinths and silphium according to Aristobulus. But even so it was inhabited by a large number of people and many flocks and herds grazed there, since the flocks like the silphium, and if they noticed it ever so far away they run to it, nibble its flower, and dig up and eat the root. For this reason in Cyrene they drive their flocks as far as possible from the places where their silphium grows; some even hurdle off the area, so that even if the flocks approach they cannot get in, since silphium is very valuable to the Cyrenaeans.

This passage is a typical example of the geographical digressions in the Anabasis. As usual, it has a threefold (instructive, introductory/transitional, laudatory) role. First, it orientates the reader with regard to the itinerary of the Macedonian army and instructs her about the topographical physiognomy of the newly introduced land. Second, the pause in the plot, which is generated by the digression, marks a new historical phase, which will occupy the center of the interest in the main part of Book IV. Hindu Kush constituted the last natural boundary Alexander had to cross in order to enter Sogdiana, the theatre of the long war against the Sogdians in the years 329–327 BCE. In this respect, the digression signals the beginning of one of the most demanding challenges for the king in his career. Third, the digression contributes to the praise of the king. His glory is reflected by the foundation of one further Alexandria, while his piety is stressed by the sacrifices

114  March-Narrative and Characterization he offers immediately (always on a narrative level) after the foundation of the city.78 The very description of the mountain range has an equally laudatory character. The accumulation of vocabulary suggestive of magnitude (ὑψηλόν, μακρόν, παρατέταται, μεγάλα) and multitude (πολλοῖς ἀνθρώποις καὶ πρόβατα πολλὰ καὶ κτήνη) helps the reader think that, by crossing Hindu Kush, Alexander was adding in his record one further imposing feat. However, the significance of this digression for us lies in the fact that it is also highly revealing of how geographical details of a march-narrative in the Anabasis can serve the overall ideological goal of the unit they belong to. In this case, as we have already seen, Arrian’s purpose is to imply that at this stage of his march Alexander is motivated by his need to punish Bessus and his peers for the injustice they perpetrated at the expense of Darius. The geographical digression serves this goal not so much through the material it offers but rather through deliberate omissions. On the one hand, Arrian omits to mention that the mount’s name was not Caucasus but Parapamisus. According to Eratosthenes, the Macedonians gave Hindu Kush the name Caucasus in order to identify it with the Caucasus between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. The purpose of this onomastic feint was to glorify Alexander by arguing that he managed to move beyond the Caucasus where Heracles freed Prometheus. They also claimed that they found in the land of the Parapamisadae the very cave where Prometheus was bound. What strikes modern scholarship as particularly strange is the fact that we read of all this from Arrian himself. Twice at the beginning of Book V, Arrian reveals to us that he is aware both of the Macedonian propaganda and that the real name of the mountain was Parapamisus. He also touches repeatedly upon the matter in his Indikē. At this point, the question thus arises as to why, in the digression under examination, Arrian, although knowing that Hindu Kush was named Parapamisus, names it Caucasus, without explaining that this name was merely a Macedonian fabrication. It has been argued that Arrian, while composing the digression of ch. 3.28, had not read Eratosthenes’ account on the Macedonian propaganda, and that he read it only when he reached at the point where he had to penetrate the Indian geography in order to compose the introduction of Book V.79 However, such a conclusion cannot stand. As Brunt writes, “though

 78 On the laudatory character of the reports of the games organized by Alexander, see Burliga 2013, 113. 79 Bosworth (HCA I, 10) takes Arrian’s silence about his own visit at Prometheus’ cave as proof that he wrote the Anabasis before his visit at the alleged place of Prometheus’ punishment, which we learn about in Peripl. M. Eux. 11.5.

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aware of the facts (my italics), A. prefers to use the nomenclature of his sources”.80 This fact is also suggested by the structural and stylistic resemblances of a certain part of the digression to one of those passages where Arrian admits his knowledge of the case: τὸ δὲ ὄρος ὁ Καύκασος ὑψηλὸν μέν ἐστιν ὥσπερ τι ἄλλο τῆς Ἀσίας, ὡς λέγει Ἀριστόβουλος, ψιλὸν δὲ τὸ πολὺ αὐτοῦ τό γε ταύτῃ. μακρὸν γὰρ ὄρος παρατέταται ὁ Καύκασος, ὥστε καὶ τὸν Ταῦρον τὸ ὄρος, ὃς δὴ τὴν Κιλικίαν τε καὶ Παμφυλίαν ἀπείργει, ἀπὸ τοῦ Καυκάσου εἶναι λέγουσι καὶ ἄλλα ὄρη μεγάλα, ἀπὸ τοῦ Καυκάσου διακεκριμένα ἄλλῃ καὶ ἄλλῃ ἐπωνυμίᾳ κατὰ ἤθη τὰ ἑκάστων. (3.28.5) Mount Caucasus, according to Aristobulus, is as high as any mountain in Asia; most of it is bare, at least on this side. In fact it is a long mountain range, so that they say that even Mount Taurus, which forms the boundary of Cilicia and Pamphylia, is really a part of Mount Caucasus as well as other great mountains which have been distinguished from Mount Caucasus by various names traditional among the different peoples. ὅροι δὲ τῆς Ἰνδῶν γῆς πρὸς μὲν βορέου ἀνέμου ὁ Ταῦρος τὸ ὄρος. καλέεται δὲ οὐ Ταῦρος ἔτι ἐν τῇ γῆ ταύτῃ, ἀλλὰ ἄρχεται μὲν ἀπὸ θαλάσσης ὁ Ταῦρος τῆς κατὰ Παμφύλους τε καὶ Λυκίην καὶ Κίλικας παρατείνει τε ἔστε τὴν πρὸς ἕω θάλασσαν, τέμνων τὴν Ἀσίην πᾶσαν, ἄλλο δὲ ἄλλῃ καλέεται τὸ ὄρος, τῇ μὲν Παραπάμισος, τῇ δὲ Ἠμωδός, ἄλλῃ δὲ Ἴμαον κληίζεται, καὶ τυχὸν ἄλλα καὶ ἄλλα ἔχει οὐνόματα. Μακεδόνες δὲ οἱ ξὺν Ἀλεξάνδρῳ στρατεύσαντες Καύκασον αὐτὸ ἐκάλεον, ἄλλον τοῦτον Καύκασον, οὐ τὸν Σκυθικόν, ὡς καὶ [τὸν] ἐπέκεινα τοῦ Καυκάσου λόγον κατέχειν ὅτι ἦλθεν Ἀλέξανδρος. (Ind. 2.1–4) The northern boundary of the land of India is Mount Taurus. That is not the name given to it in this land: in fact, while Taurus begins from the sea by Pamphylia and Lycia and Cilicia and reaches as far as the Eastern Ocean, cutting right through Asia, the mountain has different names in different places; in one Parapamisus, in another Emodus, elsewhere Imaon, and perhaps it has all sorts of other names. The Macedonians who fought with Alexander called it Caucasus, a different Caucasus from the Scythian; so that the story ran that Alexander penetrated beyond the Caucasus.

In both passages, Arrian is aware that Hindu Kush is not the Scythian Caucasus (3.28.6: τούτῳ τῷ Καυκάσῳ // Ind. 2.4: ἄλλον τοῦτον Καύκασον, οὐ τὸν Σκυθικόν)

 80 Brunt 1976, 524. Cf. Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1239, who considers ch. 3.28.5 as “die leicht zu erkennenden Eratosthenescitate”. Besides, to accept that Arrian was not aware of Eratosthenes’ text while composing ch. 3.28 presupposes that he read his sources in the course of his writing, which is unlikely. Schwartz (RE II, 1, 1238) has aptly described the way Arrian must have worked on Ptolemy’s and Aristobulus’ accounts before choosing them as the most reliable: Arrian must have read them before starting composing his own account. This must have been the case with Eratosthenes and other sources too.

116  March-Narrative and Characterization and that the mountain range changed its name from area to area. The sole difference is that in the digression of Book III of the Anabasis he does not mention the name Parapamisus, an omission which should definitely not be attributed to his ignorance. Examining the way in which Arrian read his sources does not suffice to explain his silence about the Macedonian propaganda. It would be more conducive to take into consideration the relationship of the digression with Arrian’s goals in both its immediate and wider contexts. At this point of the narrative, Alexander must be portrayed as the restorer of justice. The expedition is depicted as a struggle against the disrespectful and corrupted traitors of Darius. Had Arrian included in the digression the vainglorious hubris of Alexander and his Macedonians towards Heracles, the expedition would turn in the reader’s mind from a morally legitimated effort to reestablish justice into an arrogant pursuit of kleos. For this reason, Arrian waits for the proper moment, i.e. when the narrative goal will be the discussion of the distortive effects of the military successes on Alexander’s character. It is telling in this respect that the first time that Arrian engages with the Macedonian hubris towards Heracles that led to the fabrication ‘Caucasus’ is in the Nysa episode at the beginning of Book V. This only comes after Alexander’s hubris in the digression of ch. 4.8–14, the Aornus narrative against Heracles, and his abusing of the rumors about Dionysus in the Nysa account, which have thus already prepared the ground for further examples such as this one on Caucasus.81 By not mentioning Alexander’s competitiveness towards Heracles during his stay in Hindu Kush, Arrian deliberately avoids offering the slightest information about the inner turmoil in the Macedonian circles. This is because Alexander’s boastfulness against Heracles and Dionysus does not merely reflect his arrogance; it also constitutes one of the main reasons why the king’s relationship with some Macedonians became aggravated. The visit to the oracle of Siwah and the crossing of the Hindu Kush offered Alexander the opportunity to boast that he was equal – if not superior – to Heracles. And this is an argument Alexander must have repeatedly taken advantage of in his effort to convince the Macedonians to follow him in Asia’s depths. The crossing of Caucasus, the mountain where Heracles freed Prometheus, was one further strong proof that Alexander was of divine origins, since his exploits outdid even those of Heracles. In this respect, this event is closely associated with Clitus’ and Callisthenes’ complaints against Alexander’s hubristic attitude towards Heracles in the digression of ch. 4.8–14. Arrian could have prepared the reader for the digression by noting that the crossing  81 For the introductory role of the Nysa account, see Chapter I, pp. 45–46.

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of Hindu Kush was one of the first feats that were interpreted by Alexander and his flatterers as evidence of his superiority over Heracles. However, he did not do this, first because he intends not to touch upon these themes before Book IV and, second, because at this narrative point he wishes to portray Alexander as nothing other than the romantic avenger of Darius’ murderers. This logic is also latent in another omission concerning Parapamisus. Arrian embellishes the crossing of the mountain range by deliberately deemphasizing the difficulties faced by the Macedonians. Again, as with the name of the mountain range, we learn of the Macedonians’ hardships in the inhospitable heights of Hindu Kush as well as in the wider area of the Parapamisadae only in ch. 3.30.6 and in Book VI. In the Gedrosian account, Arrian mentions an episode that stresses the king’s endurance and love for his men. When two men brought him water in a helmet, he poured it on the ground in front of his troops, in order to show them that he was willing to suffer the same severities with them. Arrian confesses to the reader that this incident might have happened in the land of the Parapamisadae. Ch. 3.30.6 suggests that Arrian was well aware of the army’s hardships not only in the wider area around Parapamisus but also on the mountain range itself. In this chapter, Arrian analeptically glances at the losses of the horses in the rough paths of Parapamisus and during the crossing of the river Oxus. The image of a leader who sacrifices his army’s safety for the sake of his arrogant ambitions has no place in the romantic presentation of Alexander in ch. 3.22.2–30.4. Arrian’s silence on the Macedonian losses in Hindu Kush should be seen as part of his general leniency towards Alexander with regard to the difficulties he caused to his men during the crossing of dangerous areas. Especially in the first three books, Arrian foregrounds only Alexander’s concern for the safety of his army in the course of its march. In Book I, the historian pays particular attention to the stratagem with which Alexander led his men safely through Mount Haemus despite the inhabitants’ resistance (1.1.4–13). Alexander is also often presented as being particularly careful in choosing the proper route for his army. He abandons his plan to attack the island Peuce in the Istrus due to the sacrifices he would have to make in order to pass across the almost unnavigable island (1.3.4–5). In Book III, the king chooses twice the safest route for his army, rejecting some other, more dangerous alternatives (3.7.3; 3.16.2–3). Arrian does not criticize Alexander even when the latter risks his men’s lives due to his frivolity or his arrogance. While narrating Alexander’s reckless crossing of the Pamphylian Sea, Arrian touches upon the dangers lurking in those waters, but he never comments on or explains Alexander’s decision to lead his men there. He instead includes, albeit in a distancing manner, the Macedonians’ claims that they were saved by divine powers (1.26.2). Alexander’s good fortune is again

118  March-Narrative and Characterization turned into divine favor in the narrative of the crossing of the desert to the oasis of Siwah. This is one further case in which Alexander put his men into trouble (3.3.3–6). Arrian’s choice to deemphasize the hardships faced by the Macedonian army in the mountain range of Hindu Kush reflects the same attitude on Arrian’s part. On the contrary, Alexander’s thirst for conquests and his hubristic attitude towards Heracles during the crossing of Hindu Kush represent a more appropriate subject for the pejorative nature of the second part of the Anabasis on the king’s activity in India. Although in this part of the work Arrian treats Alexander in an equally positive way, this subject comes more frequently to the foreground. In Book V, Arrian focuses on the ferocity of the stream of the Acesines and the deaths of many men in those waters (5.20.8–9). Even more vivid is the episode in Book VI on the losses of the Macedonian fleet in the meeting of the Hydaspes and the Acesines (6.4.4–5.4). In Books V-VI the reader is also introduced to the hardships and the deaths of the soldiers during the expedition through the thoughts of the protagonists themselves. In his speech on the banks of the Hyphasis, Coenus asks Alexander to put an end to his men’s labors, by repeatedly stressing the great losses the army has suffered not only in battles but also through other dangers and diseases caused by the exhaustive marching through unknown and hazardous territories (5.27.4–9). And when Alexander decides to respect his men’s will not to proceed further, they burst into tears. They also fear that no one will give an end to their miseries, during their long wait before Alexander recovers from his wound after the battle against the Malli (6.12.1–3). The reference to the casualties in the land of the Parapamisadae stands as the culmination of this series of passages on the hardships of the army, the account of the crossing of the Gedrosian desert (6.22–26). However, at the time being (Book III), Arrian keeps this subject in the background. His goal in this narrative phase is to present Alexander as the legitimate punisher of the murderers of Darius and not as an arrogant and frivolous explorer.

. Conclusion The scene of Alexander’s discovery of Darius’ body has been one of the most celebrated moments in Alexander’s career right up to modern times. Let us take for example some works of historical painting in the first two centuries following the Renaissance. In the second half of the 17th century, the Genovese painter Francesco Rosa recaptures the scene on his canvas, his interest focusing mainly on the existential anxiety troubling a king’s mind in the sight of a dead peer. With a touch of self-complacent melancholy in his face, Alexander looks up to the sky

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and seems to contemplate general matters of the scene from Greco-Roman literature, such as the issue of fortune, the succession in power, and the frailty of human nature, even of kings, in front of the inevitability of death.82 In 1708, Giovanni Antonio Pellegrini, a distinguished figure of Venetian historical art, depicts the same scene with a similar focus. Alexander stands over Darius’ stripped corpse, with crossed hands and in a pensive mood, staring at Darius himself. In this way, the Venetian painter conveys the impression that Alexander’s sadness concerns the misfortunes of Darius himself. The general speculations implied in Rosa’s picture are now evidently intermingled with pity for a specific individual, Darius.83 Some other artists of roughly the same period foreground instead Alexander’s grief at Darius’ death that we also find in ancient sources. The leading element in Francesco Guardi’s painting is the affliction of the people who discover Darius’ body. Alexander holds his head with his right hand and cries, while one of his companions turns his look away from Darius’ corpse, not standing up to the dreadful sight. Another three men bend down close to Darius’ naked body, holding a cloth with which they apparently mean to cover the deceased. Alexander’s bland sorrow for Darius’ misfortunes and generally for the vanity of royal power in front of death and fortune now give place to dolor and the need to show the due respect to the corpse of a king.84 A similar approach we also find in the work of a Prussian painter. In 1769/1770, Bernhard Rode depicts in his engraving Alexander as wiping his tears with his left hand and simultaneously covering with his right hand Darius’ body with a cloak. Rode too lays special emphasis on the weakness of kingship in front of death, depicting Darius’ tiara as having fallen from his head.85 Observing all these paintings, one is amazed by the liveliness with which these painters preserved the messages and themes of this scene in Greco-Roman literature. Indeed, similarly to those modern painters, the ancient authors who wrote about Alexander demonstrated special interest in this scene. Diodorus very briefly draws our attention to the royal burial Alexander organized for Darius. He also records that, according to many, Alexander found Darius alive, commiserated with him on his misfortunes and, after Darius asked him to avenge his death, he agreed and pursued Bessus (17.73.2–4). We find the same subjects in Plutarch. In his slightly longer version, we read that Darius was found alive by a soldier of

 82 The work is today entitled “Alexander the Great mourns the death of Darius III (330 BC, at Hekatompylos)”. 83 Düsseldorf, Stiftung Museum Kunstpalast, Painting No. ART37629. 84 Moscow, Muschkin Museum, Painting No. 1004867. 85 Bösch-Supan 1971.

120  March-Narrative and Characterization Alexander. The Persian mourned for his misfortunes and, when the soldier brought to him some water, assured him that, although he himself would not reward his kindness, Alexander, the man who so generously took care of Darius’ family, would do so. After arriving at the spot when Darius was already dead, Alexander felt deep sorrow for his death and covered his corpse with a cloak. Afterwards, when he captured Bessus, he mutilated his body, in contrast to what he did with Darius’ body, which he sent to his mother and his brother Oxyathres (Alex. 42–43). In this chapter, it has been demonstrated that, although Arrian did not compose an equally romantic and detailed scene of Alexander’s discovery of Darius corpse, he nevertheless used the themes emerging from this scene in the pre-existing literary tradition of Alexander in order to color a 22–page march-narrative about Alexander’s activity in the years 331–329 BCE. Although this period generated some central issues related to the criticisms of Alexander from the Hellenistic Era up to Arrian’s age (greed, adoption of Eastern customs, tension in his relationship with his troops), Arrian passes over these themes in silence, very plausibly under the impression that Alexander rightly continued his march to the East and thus that, by contrast to the expedition in India, the troops’ complaints were at the moment unjustified.86 Arrian thus distracts the reader from the emerging crisis in Alexander’s relationship with the Macedonians, leading the reader instead to contemplate the romantic motives of Alexander in his pursuit of both Darius and his murderers. The hunting of Darius is presented as an act of revenge for the crimes perpetrated by the Persians at the expense of the Greeks in the Persian Wars, while Darius’ flight is seen as a proof of his cowardice. In a similar fashion, the operations in the Eastern satrapies of the Persian Empire in 330–329 BCE emerge as Alexander’s struggle to restore justice by punishing the regicides. This reading of ch. 3.19–30 offers an answer to the questions we posed at the beginning of this chapter with regard to the way Arrian elaborated on the extensive reports of routes, stations, and administrational decisions he drew from his sources. Concerning the question of whether or not Arrian changed this type of material, the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 proves that the historian worked on this data with the same standard of fastidiousness and creativity with which he shaped the military descriptions and the presentation of the peoples faced by Alexander that we examined in Chapter I. As we saw, the technique of framing is characterized by distinctive features of Arrian’s style. Similarly, the techniques of repetition and omission, as well as the exploitation of geographical descriptions and the introduction of individuals, betray the author’s systematic and focused  86 See General Conclusions, pp. 231–238.

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effort to use this material in compliance with his overall interpretative goal in this narrative phase, i.e. to legitimize in the reader’s mind Alexander decision to continue the expedition in the years 331–329 BCE. Last but not least, with regard to the question of whether or not the marchnarratives of the Anabasis relate to the overall design of the transition from praise to criticism analyzed in the previous chapter, it can be safely concluded that the accounts of this type have a central role in conveying to the reader a more critical portraiture of Alexander. The march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 constitutes a deliberate, extensive narrative concealment of subjects, in order for them to be brought to the foreground later on, from Book IV onwards. Although Arrian’s creativity in march-narratives has been traditionally questioned, ch. 3.19–30 offer strong piece of evidence for the opposite opinion. Arrian not only worked out the details of these segments of his work, but also did so in such a way that he rendered them an integral part of his wider narrative goals.

 Atemporality and Characterization In the previous chapters, we analyzed the narrative means by which Arrian impresses on the reader the gradual corrosion of Alexander’s character through the success of his expedition in Asia. In Chapter I, we focused mostly on how this transition from pure praise towards a more critical portraiture is achieved in the siege narratives and in the presentation of the peoples faced by Alexander. In Chapter II, we argued that Alexander’s change and the subsequent shift of the author’s attitude towards him also manifest themselves in the extensive accounts of the Macedonian army’s movement, the so-called march-narratives. Arrian arranged his material through an abundance of techniques (framing, omission, repetition, and temporal displacement), rendering it essential to the overall narrative goal in the Anabasis. In particular, it has been shown that the ingredients of the march-narrative in ch. 3.19–30 (geographic descriptions, administrational decisions, office assignments, distances, and temporal markers) play a central role in the construction of the laus in this section of the work. Arrian uses these elements in order to present Alexander’s activity in the years 331–329 BCE as a romantic endeavor, initially to avenge the injustices perpetrated by the Persians against the Greeks and, after Darius’ murder, to punish the regicides. In this way, he distracts the reader from issues related to the traditional criticism of Alexander, such as the adoption of the Anatolian customs, the dilemma concerning the continuation of the enterprise, and the unwillingness of the troops. The choice not to mention these issues in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 is deliberate and aims at delaying the discussion of these subjects until Book IV. Arrian’s choice to delay the discussion of the themes associated with the criticisms of Alexander shows, if anything, that the dynamic nature of his portrait of Alexander emerges inter alia from the element of atemporality. By using this term, I mean here various forms of disruption of the linear narrative flow. Arrian largely adopts a linear narration of the events. Nonetheless, as transpires from our analysis thus far, he also frequently disturbs the chronological sequence of the material by relating key events in an analeptic or a proleptic fashion (i.e. in the form of a flashback and flashforward, respectively). These anachronies help him achieve the transition from the positive towards the negative face of Alexander at the – to his mind – proper moment. Let us review in short the most striking examples of such anachronies analyzed so far. The episode of Alexander’s refusal to drink water from the helmet brought to him by his men, although referring to an event that, according to Arrian himself, probably also took place in 329 BCE in the deserts of the Parapamisadae, is transposed to take place four years later, in

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-004

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the narrative about the crossing of the Gedrosian desert. This temporal displacement distracts the reader from the issue of the hardships imposed by Alexander upon his men in 329 BCE. Also, the proleptic mention of Barsaentes’ execution serves as one further piece of evidence for the view that, in the operations of the years 330–329 BCE, Alexander was acting from an internal obligation to punish Darius’ murderers. Last but not least, Arrian avoids addressing the cruelty of Alexander’s treatment of Bessus in Book III, where we read of the humiliating stripping of Bessus, and waits until Book IV. In this way, Arrian avoids staining the romantic mask of the just punisher that he shapes for his hero and his activities in the Eastern satrapies of the Persian Empire in 330–329 BCE. At the same time, he touches upon this issue more emphatically at the beginning of Book IV and, by means of the subsequent digression, marks the beginning of Alexander’s fall in a more intense fashion. As shown in Chapter I and as will be further explained in this chapter, the introduction of the reader to Alexander’s megalomania is also intensified by the proleptic gathering of the episodes about Clitus, Callisthenes, and the conspiracy of the pages. The central role of these anachronies in Alexander’s dynamic image in the Anabasis invites the reader to pose the following questions: Are these analepses and prolepses to be taken merely as random choices, or can we also discern in them signs of Arrian’s systematic disruption of the linear narration in the delineation of Alexander’s image? Furthermore, are we in a position to proceed to a categorization of such anachronies, and, if we can, how is each category differentiated from the others with regard to the way it contributes to the portraiture of Alexander? Last, what is the relationship of the anachronies to the individualcentered orientation of the work? The Anabasis constitutes mostly a linear narrative of the Macedonian army’s march, with its main subject being the activities of the troops under Alexander’s command.1 To what degree and in what ways did this way of writing affect the use of anachronies in the Anabasis? In this chapter it will be argued that Arrian systematically used certain types of anachronies in order to maintain the individual-centered orientation of his narrative and, most importantly, in order to highlight several distinctive features of Alexander’s character. We will focus our analysis on five types of anachronies: (a) the flashbacks and prolepses that cover the gaps generated by the individualfocused nature of the Anabasis; (b) the atemporal collections of anecdotes and episodes of a common theme; (c) further emphatic anachronies; (d) those found in the treason narratives; and (e) the two major analepses on the troops’ opposition towards Alexander’s choices.  1 Stadter 1980, 76; Hammond 1993, 261; AAA I, XXXVII–XXXVIII.

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. Anachronies that cover the gaps generated by the individual-focused narrative Arrian mostly undertakes a linear narration of the events, his main concern being to respect the chronological order of the material related. Furthermore, as already demonstrated, the account focuses in its greatest part not on all the parts of the Macedonian army but only on the troops led by Alexander. Some anachronies serve Arrian’s choice to use this individual-focused narrative, as they counterbalance the difficulties that emerge from this way of writing. The itineraries of the rest of the troops are usually related analeptically in the messengers’ reports to the king. The march-narrative is served by prolepses too: through short sentences, such as “Alexander was intending to visit/conquer …”, Arrian prepares the reader for the ensuing stage of the conquest or more generally for Alexander’s plans.2 At this point it is worth mentioning Thomas Hidber’s meticulous study of narrative time in the Anabasis. Hidber categorizes the analepses of the Anabasis into two groups: (a) narratorial analepses, i.e. flashbacks where it is the author who speaks, and (b) actorial analepses, i.e. flashbacks made by the protagonists. He also divides the narratorial analepses into two further sub-categories, (i) introductory historical digressions, i.e. short deviations from the main narrative line about the topography and geography of a place to be conquered or visited by Alexander, and (ii) closing narratorial comments, such as the one on the destruction of Thebes (1.9.1–8) and the obituaries of Darius (3.22.2–6), Bucephalas (5.19.4–6), and Alexander (7.28.1–30.3). Actorial analepses include the anonymous reports of the messengers to Alexander about the route and actions of others, as well as Alexander’s own considerations of the past both in his thoughts and speeches. With regard to the prolepses, Hidber confines his presentation to the “summary

 2 Further temporal aspects too, such as dating devices and rhythm, conform to the narrow focus of such a narrative mode, in order to render it as comprehensible as possible. Arrian dates the most central stages of the expedition – the pivotal battles and stations – by using the names of the archons of Athens and the Attic months, while he occasionally chooses a day-to-day narration for those enterprises which he considers the most important. Consequently, the rhythm fluctuates in accordance with the author’s interest. Some events are recorded with great brevity, sometimes even in a routine list, whereas in other passages the extensive landscape descriptions, the more careful penetration into the thoughts of the protagonists, and the circumstantial presentation of their actions contribute to the deceleration of the narrative pace, which of course reflects Arrian’s special emphasis on these events.

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statements on the ensuing stages of the campaigns”, omens and portents, and the information presented about Alexander’s plans.3 Many of these techniques combine to give a strong impression of the historian’s comprehensiveness in treating his information, and they contribute to the coherence of the annalistic march-narrative. For example, the narratorial and actorial analepses on the itineraries and activities of other troops cover the gaps of information created by Arrian’s focus on the route of the forces led by Alexander. Narratorial prolepses on Alexander’s plans are equally helpful, as they prepare us for subsequent events and thereby help us digest the new information and not be exhausted by the constant introduction of places, stations, peoples, and individuals. We are also orientated in the ensuing fields of action by the analeptic pauses of the introductory geographical and topographical digressions. Such anachronies have been well analyzed by Hidber, which is why we need not here elaborate further on them.4

. The atemporal collections of episodes in the overall design of the Anabasis Another type of anachrony of which Arrian makes systematic use is the atemporal collection of episodes. Before analyzing the way this narrative technique participates in the overall arrangement of the work, it is worth expressing some thoughts on its nature. Despite their indisputable similarities in terms of their purposes and techniques,5 ancient historiography and biography can safely be considered to differ in the way they treat linear narratives. Ancient historians related the events mostly in chronological order, a choice which reflects their aims in narrating the past. Wishing to bequeath to us accounts which would help us apprehend how history unfolded as a whole, they focused more on an overall representation of the past rather than on penetration into the lives of the historical individuals themselves. Needless to say, in ancient historical works linearity is disrupted with great frequency and in many different ways (through analepses, prolepses, ellipses, pauses, etc.); however, the narrative coherence in these works is  3 Hidber 2007, 188–193. 4 Hidber 2007. 5 Syme 1974, 281–284; Pauw 1979; Pauw 1980; Stadter 1980, 60–61; Gentili/Cerri 1988, 24–25, 61–70; Momigliano 1993, 12, 50, 62; Cooper 2004; Mossman 2006; Pelling 2006a; Stadter 2007, 528, 530–531; Kraus 2010a, 403–405, 407–408, 413; Hägg 2012, 2–3, 212, 259, 381; Burliga 2013, 121ff.; Marincola 2015.

126  Atemporality and Characterization achieved mostly by the predominance of the chronological sequence of the selected material. On the other hand, biographers and encomiasts very often disrupted their linear accounts in order to organize the material by different qualities of the individuals they wrote about. Of course, chronological narration is very common in biography and encomium too. However, extensive parts of such works dedicated to the virtues and the defects of these individuals unfold on the basis of moral qualities, such as bravery, self-control, kindness, justice, or their opposites. In those cases, the author had to search the whole life of an individual and selectively extract the most exemplary incidents or anecdotes, as he saw them, in order to compose a unit for each of these features.6 In such narrative excerpts, we often find events of a later stage in an individual’s life being placed before events that had preceded them. We may also read of a certain period of time, without being able to define the intervals between the events due to the vagueness or even the absence of temporal markers. By this criterion, Claude Mossé defines two narrative modes in her study on Plutarch’s Lives of Demosthenes and Phocion: the ‘temps de l’histoire’ and the ‘temps de la biographie’.7 Further studies have helped us understand in greater depth the functions and nature of these two narrative modes. Philip Stadter, in his analysis of the static plot development in the Cyropaedia and the absence of chronological markers, borrows the Bakhtinian concept of ‘biographical time’, by which he means a “timeless biographical mode, with no sense of growth or development of Cyrus in time”.8 In his article on history and biography, Stadter reexamines the distinction between the two narrative modes: “Usually the chronological sequence of major life events furnished Plutarch’s overall organizing scheme, but it coexisted with and often yielded to thematic and rhetorical structures […]. Incidents and anecdotes were frequently gathered under a common head, or introduced by association, rather than in chronological order”.9 Also, in her study “Historiography and Biography” Christina Kraus observes that the distance between a ‘linear system’ and a narrative by ‘species’ seems to be one of the most conspicuous differences between history and biography, with the linear system generating a “sequence” that “de-emphasizes the boundaries of individual human lives, though these may be used as punctuating devices”. We may read

 6 Stuart 1928, 187–188; Beck 2007, 389; Whitmarsh 2007, 419–420. 7 Mossé 1997. 8 Stadter 1991, 477. I borrow the citation from Hägg 2012, 54. Cf. Beck 2007, 292–293. 9 Stadter 2007, 539.

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Kraus’ thoughts backwards and add that a narrative by ‘species’ transfers the focal point of interest to the significance of the individuals’ lives, blurring our sense of the strict chronological sequence of the historical events. It goes without saying that any attempt to define the boundaries between narrative time in ancient history and biography would be pointless, since ancient biographers and historiographers used the very same techniques in this respect. Furthermore, although the disruption of the linear narrative for the sake of timeless accumulative digressions of episodes collected by association is admittedly a distinctive feature of the surviving biographical works,10 we often find this feature in historical accounts too. For this reasons, in this section I will avoid using the term “biographical time” for the description of the gathering of episodes that disturbs the actual chronological order of the events. As is shown in the heading of the section, I choose instead to keep to the more descriptive term “atemporal collections of episodes”, which will be frequently exchanged with Kraus’ term “narrative by species”.

 10 The disruption of the linear narrative has been indeed one of the most distinguished characteristics of the biographical works since the very first stages of the genre’s formation. See on Memorabilia Hägg 2012, 25. In a similar way, Isocrates, in his Euagoras (ca. 374/3 BCE), praises the deceased Euagoras, son of Nicocles, and sacrifices the chronological sequence of events in order to focus more on the virtues of this ruler (Hägg 2012, 30). In his Agesilaus, Xenophon follows the same pattern, at least in the one third of the work. Although in the part on Agesilaus’ deeds Xenophon follows a linear account, he structures the chapters on the Spartan’s virtues (11 from totally 31 pages) on the basis of categories (3.2–5: piety; 4: justice; 5: moderation; 6.1–3: bravery; 6.4–8: wisdom; 7.1–3: love for one’s country; 7.4–7: panhellenism; 8.1–4: grace; 8.5: foresight; and 8.6–8: simplicity). The events that exemplify each of these qualities are collected from different areas of Agesilaus’ life and are gathered not in chronological order but according to their significance (in particular for the postscript see Krömer 1971; Hägg 2012, 42–43). Even in cases where a biographer seems to deviate from the typical structural methods of his contemporaries, the atemporal quotation of anecdotes is equally present. Satyrus, the Hellenistic biographer of Euripides, in his Life of Euripides gives his bios the form of a dialogue, but retains the pattern of temporal vagueness in the way he places the several anecdotes in his narrative (F6 fr. 39, cols. IX–XIII, Schorn). As far as the biographers of the Late Republican Rome are concerned, Cornelius Nepos employs this technique in his Life of Atticus. Although the narrative on Atticus’ life until 65 BCE does maintain a strict chronological order, the presentation of his friendships and his alienation from the political life of his country emerges from a list of events vaguely related to each other on a temporal level. However, when the account reaches at the point when Caesar’s civil war begins, “the biographer chooses to arrange his material again in a chronological fashion” (Hägg 2012, 191 and n. 12). In his De vita caesarum, Suetonius arranges the events that concern each emperor in categories rather than linearly, as he programmatically explains (Aug. 9.1: neque tempora sed per species). As Stadter (2007, 536) observes, “Suetonius’ treatment by categories truncates narrative but brings to life the individuality of each emperor.”

128  Atemporality and Characterization Τhis technique was employed by Alexander’s authors as well (see below), which is why its presence in Arrian too must be attributed inter alia to his interaction with the beaten track of the literary tradition of Alexander.11 Throughout the Anabasis, Arrian exploits this narrative technique on a number of occasions. Although the plot regularly unfolds in a linear way, he disturbs the chronological sequence of the events at certain points of his account and collects two or even more anecdotes and incidents of different periods that foreground a certain quality of Alexander. Although modern scholarship has repeatedly noted the presence of this narrative mode in the Anabasis,12 its role in the overall logic of the work has been relatively neglected. In what follows, we will analyze the passages that adopt this technique and recognize its major functions in the Anabasis: (a) emphasis; (b) transition; (c) framing; and (d) retardation/escalation. We will argue that this technique, along with the march-narratives, the siege descriptions, and the presentation of peoples, should certainly be included among the foundations of the dynamic construction of Alexander’s image.

.. Emphasis The narratives by species can affect the way the reader perceives the historical data in multiple different ways. However, as is usual in the Greco-Roman narratives that adhere to this scheme, in the Anabasis too the fundamental quality of these atemporal collections of stories lies in the special emphasis they lay on a feature of the hero. The author may use the emphatic nature of these atemporal groups of stories at turning points of his account in order to introduce the reader to a new narrative phase (introduction/transition), to frame with them an extensive narrative unit (framing), or even to create a culmination in an escalating plot development (retardation/escalation). However, it should be noted that all these functions always emerge from the principal feature of the narratives by species, i.e. their emphatic nature. Arrian’s method can be described in the following way. First, he finds an event or a theme that highlights a certain quality of Alexander. He uses this event

 11 If Arrian wrote the Anabasis after the biographies of Dion and Timoleon, he must have become familiar with this technique while composing these biographies. However, this is merely a hypothesis, which once again cannot be verified due to our ignorance of the precise chronological order of these three works. 12 See below, n. 27.

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or theme as a magnet, around which he gathers further stories of different temporal origins but all of which are suggestive of the virtue or flaw that is foregrounded by the central event or theme. To begin with, in the chapters about the capture of Oxyartes’ rock, Arrian interrupts the chronological sequence of the events in order to praise Alexander for his moderation towards women. In ch. 4.19.5, we read the central event that marks Alexander’s modesty, namely his marriage to the governor’s daughter Rhoxane, who was considered to be the most beautiful woman in Asia. According to Arrian, Alexander’s decision to marry Rhoxane reflects his respect towards her and his self-control in his affairs with women in general. At this point, Arrian recalls Alexander’s respect to Stateira, Darius’ wife (4.19.6). By linking Rhoxane’s beauty with that of Stateira, who also had the title of the most beautiful woman in Asia,13 Arrian leads the reader to an analeptic comparison of the two cases, in order to stress Alexander’s moderation even further.14 According to the author, Alexander remained a paragon of selfcontrol towards Stateira too.15 Immediately afterwards, Arrian composes one further analepsis on an event that can be dated more accurately. Darius, some say, a little after the battle of Issus, asked a eunuch who managed to escape from the Macedonians if his wife had been modest and if Alexander respected her. When the eunuch answered that Alexander was the most virtuous and moderate of all men, Darius prayed to the gods that Alexander succeed him, in case that he is deprived of the rule of Asia (4.20.1–3).16 Arrian concludes with the didactic maxim that one’s continence is acknowledged even by his enemies. Arrian could have arranged these episodes the other way around. He could have transferred the wedding episode at the group of stories on Alexander’s magnanimity towards Stateira and Darius’ mother and daughters (2.12.3–8).17 Nonetheless, he chose there to focus only on Alexander’s clementia towards the Persian royal family. Besides, the chapters on Alexander’s affair with Rhoxane offered a much more appropriate place for a laudatory, atemporal collection of

 13 On Stateira’s beauty, cf. Apion, FGrH 616 F1; Plu. Alex. 21.6. On Rhoxane’s, cf. Plu. Alex. 47.7. 14 Stadter 1980, 84; HCA II, 132–133; AAA II, 432. 15 Arrian is the only one among the surviving sources that omits the fact that Stateira died shortly before the battle of Gaugamela (331 BCE. See D.S. 17.54.7; Plu. Alex. 30; Curt. 4.10.18–34; Justin 11.12.6–7). It has been assumed that these testimonies may reflect a tradition that Alexander neglected the welfare of the woman. See Welles 1963, 277; Green 1991, 286–287; Carney 2003, 247–248; Heckel 2008, 84–85. 16 Cf. Plu. Alex. 30. 17 In the same way that Plutarch (Alex. 21) attaches Barsine’s and others’ cases to that of Stateira.

130  Atemporality and Characterization episodes. First, Alexander’s marriage to Rhoxane was indeed one of the most celebrated stories related to Alexander’s affairs with women in the literature of Alexander.18 Furthermore, the wedding must have been considered in antiquity one of the most pivotal moments in the king’s private life. Most importantly, this marriage had been the object of criticism and had been occasionally treated as one further act of weakness on Alexander’s part owing to his Anatolian temptations.19 In this respect, the anecdote of Alexander’s moderation towards Stateira also aims to strengthen Arrian’s defensio of Alexander with regard to a much debated moment in his career. The same logic is also discerned in the conscious transposition of the anecdote of the water in the helmet in the Gedrosian account (6.26.1–3).20 As the army marches in the desert with no water supplies, some soldiers find some water, put it in a helmet and bring it to Alexander in order to satisfy his thirst. Alexander, however, does not drink the water and, after thanking his men, pours it on the ground in order to show them that he is ready to face the same hardships with them. Arrian explains that this act gave courage to the army and praises the king for his endurance. This passage exemplifies the way in which Arrian’s interest in Alexander’s character occasionally prevailed over his respect for the chronological order of the material. For at the end of the episode, Arrian confesses to the reader that, although this incident might have happened in the land of the Parapamisadae, he chose to include it at this point of his account because he thought that this is the most appropriate place for it (6.26.1).21 As in the narrative by species on Alexander’s sexual self-restraint, here too the basic principle for the collection of the relative episodes is to find the most characteristic opportunity. The journey of the Macedonian armada in the Gedrosian desert undoubtedly constitutes the most significant moment of the expedition with regard to the hardships faced by the troops. Never before on the expedition in Asia had Alexander and his men been confronted with greater challenges, and never, not even in the battlefield, had they suffered heavier casualties. The anecdote of the water in the helmet accentuates even further the dramatic atmosphere of the Gedrosian chapters and underlines Alexander’s love for

 18 Plu. Alex. 47.7; 77.6; Curt. 8.4.23–30. 19 Curt. 8.4.30; 10.6.13–15. Cf. Bury 19513, 796; Renard/Servais 1955; Hornblower 19852, 315; Green 1991, 370; HCA II, 132; Carney 2003, 245; Heckel 2008, 102, 105; Giebel 2009; Ogden 2009, 207 n. 29 with further bibliography; Briant 2010, 116; Olbrycht 2010, 360; Müller 2012, 297 n. 12. 20 Stadter 1980, 85; AAA II, 563–564; cf. Hidber 2007, 193 for a comparison of ch. 4.8–14 and ch. 6.26.1–3. 21 Schepens 1989, 26–27.

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his men and his famous willingness to share with them the hardships of each task.22 What is more, as in the stories on Alexander’s affairs with Stateira and Rhoxane, the temporally dislocated episode is transferred to a point where Alexander needs to be defended more than anywhere else. The fiasco in the Gedrosian land was seen by many in antiquity as Alexander’s greatest mistake in the expedition in Asia.23 The thousands of dead soldiers were occasionally seen in antiquity as a firm proof of the carelessness with which Alexander could sometimes sacrifice the safety of his men for the sake of his own aspirations. Within the framework of this criticism, Arrian says that, according to some, Alexander decided to cross the desert out of competitiveness towards the Anatolian monarchs who had failed to do so (6.24.2–3). Arrian, although not denying Alexander’s vainglorious motives, conveys the impression through his account that Alexander, despite his inability to protect his men from his own vanity, was particularly concerned about their lives and did his best in the desert to save them. Alexander is presented as figuring out ways to provide the army with water supplies (6.23.1–2). Second, on learning that the men slaughtered and ate the transport animals, he pretended that he did not notice this happening (6.25.1–2). Indeed he adopted the same reaction to learning that the men ate grain which was to be sent to Nearchus (6.23.4–6).24 Third, he ordered his men not to camp near the fountains of water, so that they would not die of overconsumption of water (6.25.6). Last, when the army had lost its way, it was Alexander who, accompanied by a few men, searched for the road to the sea and thereby saved his men (6.26.4–6).25 The anecdote which might refer to the crossing of the Parapamisadae’s desert is transposed here as one further piece of evidence of Alexander’s concern for his men. Besides, as demonstrated in the previous chapter, Arrian was far from willing to include in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 an incident that stresses the hardships of the Macedonians. Arrian wished to present the crossing of that desert not as a proof of Alexander’s negligence of the safety of his troops but as a romantic effort to punish Darius’ murderers.  22 On the laudatory character of this episode, see Green 1991, 434; AAA II, 563–564; Heckel 2009b, 81; Worthington 2014, 262–263. 23 On the catastrophic consequences of the Gedrosian enterprise for the Macedonian forces, see Droysen 1833, 391–392; Badian 1964b, 200; Hamilton 1973, 127–128; Green 1991, 433–436; Brosius 2003, 175. 24 The text itself does not clarify that the mission was planned for Nearchus’ fleet, but see Brunt 1983, 477 and AAA II, 557. 25 On the laudatory character of these episodes, see Liotsakis 2019b (forthcoming).

132  Atemporality and Characterization These two examples, as well as the others to be analyzed in the following pages, reveal that in the atemporal collections of episodes Arrian did not add the one story to the other in a haphazard fashion. On the contrary, he used this technique as a means of emphasizing Alexander’s quality at points that are especially pivotal in Alexander’s life or expedition, and that are exemplary of each of his qualities.

.. Transition The strongest proof that Arrian used the atemporal collections of stories as an integral element of his dynamic portrait of Alexander is the central digression of ch. 4.8–14. As we saw in Chapter I, Arrian relates the episodes of Clitus, Anaxarchus, Callisthenes, and the young conspirators by association with the mutilation of Bessus. Alexander’s cruelty towards Bessus paves the way for an almost atemporal digression on his immoderate spirit and arrogance, which had been gradually increasing since the battle of Gaugamela. Clitus’ death and Anaxarchus’ flattering consolations are narrated in a proleptic narrative, given that all these happened, as Arrian explains, sometime after the mutilation of Bessus (4.8.1). The following episodes on Callisthenes’ criticism towards the proskynesis of Alexander (4.10.1–12.5) complicate the broken linear account even further.26 One may assume that Callisthenes delivered his speech a little before or after Clitus’ death. Such a conclusion, however, cannot be extracted from the text itself. Besides, Arrian does not inform us exactly when Alexander started trying to impose his proskynesis. The fact that the text leads the reader to recall the distant narrative point when Alexander visited Ammon’s oracle at Siwah (4.9.9) is telling of how difficult it is for a reader to define the exact temporal framework of these events. This sense of atemporality is intensified even further in the next episode of Callisthenes’ conversation with Philotas on Athens and the tyrannicides (4.10.3– 4). The episode cannot be dated exactly and, even if we accept that it refers to a true event, we must content ourselves with the information that Callisthenes’ interlocutor was Philotas, which means that the incident took place somewhere before Philotas’ execution. The lack of any immediate temporal connection of the episode with the rest of the stories of Callisthenes impedes any effort to date it.  26 See Bosworth’s (HCA II, 88) effort to clarify which episode on Callisthenes (the proskynesis debate or the kiss episode) occurred first, and his review of the debate on this matter. Cf. AAA II, 401–411.

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The third episode of Callisthenes, in which Alexander denies him a kiss (4.12.3– 5), is equally hard to date. At the end of this chain of stories comes the conspiracy of the young Macedonians, which constitutes a prolepsis, since, as Arrian writes, it occurred a little after the murder of Clitus (4.14.4).27 In the previous chapter we argued that Arrian avoids touching in Book III upon the Macedonians’ dissatisfaction about Alexander’s adoption of the Anatolian customs. We also demonstrated that he remains silent about the crisis that arose after the battle of Gaugamela in Alexander’s relationship with his men, specifically with regard to the dilemma of the continuation or abortion of the expedition. What remains is to show that Arrian overlooked these subjects in Book III deliberately. Some passages in the digression of ch. 4.8–14 support this view. First, when introducing the reader to the immoderate wine drinking that led to Clitus’ death, Arrian clarifies to the reader that (4.8.2): καὶ γὰρ καὶ τὰ τῶν πότων ἤδη Ἀλεξάνδρῳ ἐς τὸ βαρβαρικώτερον νενεωτέριστο In fact, Alexander had already taken to new and more barbaric ways of drinking.

Since the Hellenistic years up to Arrian’s time, Alexander’s immoderate consumption of wine and, generally, his inclination to debaucheries of this kind, chiefly in the last years of his life, developed into a popular theme in Greco-Roman literature and especially in circles hostile to him. Anecdotes such as that of Chares of Mytilene, about the immense and sometimes fatal drinking of the Macedonians, and those of Ephippus of Olynthus testify to the view that the literary tradition of Alexander was rich in stories about the lack of self-restraint of Alexander and the Macedonians during banquets.28 Although Arrian’s general indifference to this matter prevents us from making any immediate connection between the Anabasis and any of these stories,29 the adverb ἤδη and the pluperfect  27 Scholars have repeatedly noted this technique in the digression. See HCA II, 45; Stadter 1980, 83; AAA II, 392; Hidber 2007, 193. 28 Chares of Mytilene, FGrH 125 F19a and b; Ephippus of Olynthus, FGrH 126 F2–4. Cf. Nicobule, FGrH 127 F1–2; Polyclitus of Larissa, FGrH 128 F1; Plu. Alex. 9; 14; 17; 23; 41. The report of the royal journal about Alexander’s debauchery during his last days (the most extensive fragments survive in Plu. Alex. 76.1–77.1; Arr. An. 7.25, while a more pedantic treatment of it on Alexander’s last days must have been offered by Strattis of Olynthus in his work Περὶ τῶν Ἀλεξάνδρου ἐφημερίδων or Περὶ τῆς Ἀλεξάνδρου τελευτῆς, FGrH 118) was seen as a proof about his inclination to immense drinking. See Ael. VH 3.23; Ath. 434b. On the other hand, Plutarch, similarly to Aristobulus and Arrian (7.29.4 = Aristob. F62), believed that Alexander did not drink that much during the banquets but he merely loved discussing with his friends (Quaest. conv. 623d–e). 29 He addresses the subject only here, in ch. 7.25.1–26.1 and in defensive tones in ch. 7.29.4.

134  Atemporality and Characterization νενεωτέριστο show that Arrian knew that Alexander had already become more “barbaric” in drinking long before Clitus’ death (328 BCE).30 However, he never mentions the subject in Books I–III and refers here analeptically to the debaucheries that must have been taking place at least since 330 BCE.31 Similarly, when referring to Clitus’ reaction to the flatterers’ adulation of Alexander, Arrian again states that (4.8.4): Κλεῖτον δὲ δῆλον μὲν εἶναι πάλαι ἤδη ἀχθόμενον τοῦ τε Ἀλεξάνδρου τῇ ἐς τὸ βαρβαρικώτερον μετακινήσει καὶ τῶν κολακευόντων αὐτὸν τοῖς λόγοις. Clitus, however, had made it plain for some time past that he was aggrieved both by Alexander’s change-over to the more barbaric style and by the expressions of the flatterers.

The cross-reference between the phrase ἐς τὸ βαρβαρικώτερον for the wine drinking and the phrase τῇ ἐς τὸ βαρβαρικώτερον μετακινήσει for the object of Clitus’ dissatisfaction conveys the impression that Clitus opposed, among other things, Alexander’s propensity for drinking. However, Arrian does not mean this here, since he presents Clitus himself too as getting drunk and criticizes him for doing so. Given that Clitus’ outburst comes as an answer to the comparison of Alexander’s achievements with those of Heracles and the Dioscuri, Arrian rather means that Clitus had long ago expressed his contempt of Alexander’s adoption of Anatolian customs, including his wish to compare himself and to be compared by others too with the gods. Furthermore, Arrian’s analeptic comment that Alexander used his alleged origins from Ammon Zeus (4.9.9) as an argument for his deification suggests that the historian was well aware of the fact that, in Macedonian circles, the issue of the proskynesis had been closely related with Alexander’s visit at the oracle of Ammon Zeus in the oasis of Siwah in 331 BCE. Once again, although Arrian could have addressed the issue of Alexander’s proskynesis in his account of Alexander’s visit at Siwah (3.3.3–4.5), he did not do this, and chose instead to link the two subjects here retrospectively. All these passages offer strong pieces of evidence that Arrian deliberately omitted in Book III some acts of Alexander that were unpopular to the Macedonians in order to discuss them in the digression of ch. 4.8–14. This view is also strengthened by the anecdote of Callisthenes’ discussion with Philotas on Athens as a safe refuge for aspiring tyrannicides. Philotas asks

 30 Bosworth (HCA II, 53–54) rightly notes the falsehood of Arrian’s choice to present the typical Macedonian habit of excessive drinking as an aspect of orientalism. 31 Arrian must have read about the drinking that led to the burning of Persepolis (3.18.11–12. Cf. D.S. 17.72; Plu. Alex. 38).

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Callisthenes what is the ideal place to find refuge for someone who has managed to kill a tyrant. Callisthenes answered, the story goes, that there is no better place for such a man than Athens. Although Arrian does not explain to the reader why he included this anecdote in the group of stories about Callisthenes, it is not difficult to apprehend how the anecdote is associated with the general atmosphere of its context. Whether or not it refers to a true event, the story must have been used in the literature of Alexander as exemplary of how negatively Alexander was seen as a ruler by two distinguished figures from his close environment, both of whom were accused of conspiracy against him.32 The story is also suggestive of the defiant naivety with which these men were presented to discuss such dangerous themes, a naivety that was believed to have facilitated Alexander in his effort to find a pretext to annihilate them.33 What matters in our analysis is that this report, implicating Philotas’ negative view of Alexander as a monarch, could have been included in the chapters on his involvement in the conspiracy in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30, which we examined in the previous chapter. However, Arrian once again avoided mentioning issues and reports that, albeit implicitly, touched upon the despotic side of Alexander’s rule and could thereby blemish his popularity as a monarch. As on other occasions which are also presented in the previous chapter, the episode on Philotas’ conspiracy against Alexander is one further proof that in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 Arrian keeps silent about events and subjects in order not to conceal them completely but to bring them to the foreground later on at the proper moment. Arrian’s unwillingness to blacken his hero’s portrait in Book III is also betrayed by Hermolaus’ analeptic recapitulation of Alexander’s hubristic deeds (4.14.2): ἤδη δέ τινες καὶ τάδε ἀνέγραψαν, τὸν Ἑρμόλαον προαχθέντα ἐς τοὺς Μακεδόνας ὁμολογεῖν τε ἐπιβουλεῦσαι—καὶ γὰρ οὐκ εἶναι ἔτι ἐλευθέρῳ ἀνδρὶ φέρειν τὴν ὕβριν τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρου— πάντα καταλέγοντα, τήν τε Φιλώτα οὐκ ἔνδικον τελευτὴν καὶ τοῦ πατρὸς αὐτοῦ Παρμενίωνος ἔτι ἐκνομωτέραν καὶ τῶν ἄλλων τῶν τότε ἀποθανόντων, καὶ τὴν Κλείτου ἐν μέθῃ ἀναίρεσιν, καὶ τὴν ἐσθῆτα τὴν Μηδικήν, καὶ τὴν προσκύνησιν τὴν βουλευθεῖσαν καὶ οὔπω πεπαυμένην, καὶ πότους τε καὶ ὕπνους τοὺς Ἀλεξάνδρου· ταῦτα οὐ φέροντα ἔτι ἐλευθερῶσαι ἐθελῆσαι ἑαυτόν τε καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους Μακεδόνας. Some have also recorded that Hermolaus, when summoned before the Macedonians, confessed his plot, for (he said) no free man could longer endure Alexander’s arrogance, and  32 HCA II, 76; AAA II, 403–404. 33 In ch. 4.12.7, Arrian openly attributes Alexander’s hostility towards Callisthenes partly to Callisthenes’ flagrant, provocative temperament. This story implies the same for Philotas too.

136  Atemporality and Characterization went over the whole story, the unjust end of Philotas, and the still more illegal death of Parmenio and of the others who perished at that time, the drunken murder of Clitus, the Median dress, the plan not yet abandoned to introduce obeisance, and Alexander’s drinking and sleeping habits; all this he would bear no longer and sought to liberate himself and the other Macedonians.

This passage shows that, although Arrian knew that Philotas’ condemnation was considered by some Macedonians unjust, he avoided mentioning this in his narrative on that affair in Book III. Of course, as suggested by both the indirect speech in Hermolaus’ apology and Arrian’s own comments in the episode of Philotas’ conviction (see below, Section 4), Arrian did not agree with Hermolaus that Philotas’ death penalty was an unfair decision. On the contrary, Arrian seems to be convinced that Philotas was indeed involved in the conspiracy. In this respect, his choice to avoid discussing in Book III about the voices opposing to Philotas’ conviction was certainly dictated by his own belief that Philotas was guilty. However, it can still be recognized that he could have offered to the reader all contemporary views on the matter and thus a multifaceted perspective from which to read the Philotas affair. In Chapter I, it was demonstrated that the subjects introduced in the digression of ch. 4.8–14 (arrogance, rage, greed, hubris) are evident mostly in Books IV–VII of the Anabasis. The present analysis of the aforementioned analepses proves that the absence of these themes from Books I–III is intentional. The episodes of Clitus, Callisthenes, and the pages were a popular group of stories, which were often narrated together, as is testified by Arrian, Plutarch, and Curtius. Arrian gathered these atemporal stories together as a means by which to introduce the criticism against Alexander in the second part of the work and thus as a marker of transition from the flawless image of Alexander towards his darker portrait.

.. Framing Arrian also used the atemporal collections of stories as a form of framing. In the previous chapters we demonstrated that the historian often frames a segment of his narrative with two comments and thereby colors it with a specific moral orientation. The reader, after reading the opening comment that frames the ensuing account, is invited to approach the following events through the evaluative prism imposed by the comment. At the end, when completing the reading of the framed chapters, the reader reaches the closing part of the framework, which typically

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contains another comment or some other marker of evaluation, and is thereby forced to re-examine in light of this new comment what she has read thus far. Accordingly, the atemporal gathering of anecdotes in the digression of ch. 4.8–14 does not just have an introductory or transitional role; it also participates in the shaping of an extensive ring composition, along with Arrian’s cold comment on Alexander’s plans at the beginning of Book VII. As we saw, this digression is opened by Arrian’s comment in ch. 4.7.5: […] τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου μεγάλα πράγματα ἐς τεκμηρίωσιν τίθεμαι ὡς οὔτε τὸ σῶμα ὅτῳ εἴη καρτερόν, οὔτε ὅστις γένει ἐπιφανής, οὔτε κατὰ πόλεμον εἰ δή τις διευτυχοίη ἔτι μᾶλλον ἢ Ἀλέξανδρος, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Λιβύην τις πρὸς τῇ Ἀσίᾳ, καθάπερ οὖν ἐπενόει ἐκεῖνος, ἐκπεριπλεύσας κατάσχοι, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Εὐρώπην ἐπὶ τῇ Ἀσίᾳ τε καὶ Λιβύῃ τρίτην, τούτων πάντων οὐδέν τι ὄφελος ἐς εὐδαιμονίαν ἀνθρώπου, εἰ μὴ σωφρονεῖν ἐν ταὐτῷ ὑπάρχοι τούτῳ τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ τῷ τὰ μεγάλα, ὡς δοκεῖ, πράγματα πράξαντι. […] I take it that nothing is clearer proof than Alexander’s great successes of the truth that neither bodily strength in anyone nor distinction of birth nor continuous good fortune in war, greater even than Alexander’s – no matter if a man were to sail out right round Libya as well as Asia and subdue them, as Alexander actually thought of doing, or were to make Europe, with Asia and Libya, a third part of his empire – that not one of all these things is any contribution to man’s happiness, unless the man whose achievements are apparently so great were to possess at the same time command of his own passions.

These thoughts are again expressed in a similar style after three books, in the comment of ch. 7.1.4: ἐγὼ δὲ ὁποῖα μὲν ἦν Ἀλεξάνδρου τὰ ἐνθυμήματα οὔτε ἔχω ἀτρεκῶς ξυμβαλεῖν οὔτε μέλει ἔμοιγε εἰκάζειν, ἐκεῖνο δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἄν μοι δοκῶ ἰσχυρίσασθαι, οὔτε μικρόν τι καὶ φαῦλον ἐπινοεῖν Ἀλέξανδρον οὔτε μεῖναι ἂν ἀτρεμοῦντα ἐπ’ οὐδενὶ τῶν ἤδη κεκτημένων, οὐδὲ εἰ τὴν Εὐρώπην τῇ Ἀσίᾳ προσέθηκεν, οὐδ’ εἰ τὰς Βρεττανῶν νήσους τῇ Εὐρώπῃ, ἀλλὰ ἔτι ἂν ἐπέκεινα ζητεῖν τι τῶν ἠγνοημένων, εἰ καὶ μὴ ἄλλῳ τῳ, ἀλλὰ αὐτόν γε αὑτῷ ἐρίζοντα. For my part I cannot determine with certainty what sort of plans Alexander had in mind, and it is no purpose of mine to make guesses, but there is one thing I think I can assert myself, that none of Alexander’s plans were small and petty and that, no matter what he had already conquered, he would not have stopped there quietly, not even if he had added Europe to Asia and the Britannic Islands to Europe, but that he would always have searched far beyond for something unknown, in competition with himself in default of any other rival.

As already explained, the two comments can hardly be taken as being cut off from the military accounts of the Anabasis. It is exactly with them that Arrian frames the plot development of Books IV–VI, thus inviting the reader to treat the phases of the enterprise narrated in these books with a more critical eye. What is more,

138  Atemporality and Characterization the comment of ch. 7.1.4 shapes one further framework of a smaller range along with the comment of ch. 5.24.8, predisposing the reader negatively towards the Macedonians’ aggressions in India on their return to Babylon. The atemporal accumulation of anecdotes has a central role in these two constructions of framing. This is because the two central pylons of these schemes, the comments of ch. 4.7.5 and ch. 7.1.4, are corroborated by a series of anecdotes that confirm their point. With regard to the comment of ch. 4.7.5, we need not add any further thoughts to what we have already shown about its attestation by the anecdotes of the digression in ch. 4.8–14. But with regard to the comment of ch. 7.1.4, Arrian verifies his statement about Alexander’s megalomania by mentioning four events of different periods that highlight this quality. These are the popular stories of Alexander’s affairs with philosophers, particularly with the Brahmins, Diogenes, and Calanus.34 According to the first story, the Brahmins, at the sight of the Macedonian army, started beating the ground with their feet. When asked by Alexander what was meant by their action, their response was that they wanted him to understand that, regardless of the size of his conquests, in his final moment he would need “no more of the earth than suffices for the burial of your body”. It is telling that Arrian confesses that he agrees with the Brahmins (7.1.5– 2.1). We find the same message in the following anecdote on Diogenes’ contempt of Alexander’s power. The philosopher from Sinope asks the young king and his soldiers to step aside, so that he could see the sun. This incident took place even before the beginning of the expedition in Asia (7.2.1–2). Afterwards, Arrian transfers us again somewhere to the years 327–325 BCE. When Alexander visited the Brahmins, Dandamis, the oldest among them, scorned Alexander and the Macedonians for troubling themselves with the conquest of lands and condemned Alexander’s power (7.2.2–4). Similarly, the last example in this group, the extensive biography of Calanus, juxtaposes the philosopher’s self-control with Alexander’s greed (7.2.4–3.6).35 Alexander’s association with philosophy, as well as his keen interest in the arts and letters, had over time become one of the most significant motifs of his biographical tradition.36 In such stories, the Macedonian king was portrayed as the philosopher-king, reminiscent of the Platonic rulers. In this regard he represented the ideal model of the educated monarch who is not only the protector of

 34 AAA II, 582–588. 35 Badian 1968, 192; Stadter 1980, 86. 36 Onesicritus, FGrH 134 F17a and b; Aristobulus, FGrH 139 F41; Plu. Alex. 8; 27.

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intellectual culture but also one of its representatives. Such anecdotes often exemplified both Alexander’s affinities and differences with philosophical ideas.37 Arrian, taking advantage of this twofold function of such stories, uses the most celebrated among them to draw our attention not only to Alexander’s love for the virtues promoted by philosophy but also to his indifference towards such doctrines.38 What these episodes share is that in all of them Alexander converses with one or more philosophers and expresses his admiration for the thoughts of his interlocutor(s). However, in all these cases Alexander is presented negatively, with his megalomaniac greed being inferior to the simplicity and moderation of the philosophers he is compared to. As in the previous atemporal collections of anecdotes, the association of these stories with Alexander’s plans is deliberate and is dictated by Arrian’s typical method of placing them at a pivotal point of his narrative. Alexander’s plans for his future conquests constituted one of the most celebrated themes in the tradition of Alexander and one of its greatest unsolved mysteries. Furthermore, these plans exemplified in the most characteristic way Alexander’s well-known insatiable greed. The fact that he intended to conquer the whole world, despite the fact that he was already ruler of Greece and Asia, was often seen in antiquity as a proof of his immoderate temperament. The chapters on his plans about the conquest of the world thus stand as an ideal opportunity for the discussion of stories that contrast Alexander’s greed with the frugality of famous philosophers. What is more, Arrian in this way places further emphasis on a ring composition that frames Books IV–VII and invites the reader to treat Alexander’s feats partly as manifestations of his greed.

.. Retardation – escalation The atemporal groups of anecdotes also contribute to the deceleration of the narrative pace and to the culmination of the plot development. This is the case in the prolonged preparation of the reader in Book VII for Alexander’s death. Although the hero dies at the end of the work (7.26), the whole book serves as a continuous and culminating preparation for this final outcome. The protagonist’s death is foreshadowed from the very beginning. In the first anecdote on Alexander’s encounters with the philosophers, the Brahmins warn Alexander that he will die very soon and that the only part of the earth he will own will be the place that  37 AAA II, 582–585; Koulakiotis 2006, 59–147. 38 See, contra, AAA II, 582.

140  Atemporality and Characterization suffices for the burial of his body (7.1.6). The ominous coloring of the narrative is further intensified by the ensuing detailed description of Calanus’ burial. In this way, Arrian creates from the outset an atmosphere of death that will find its eventual culmination in Alexander’s dawn. Apart from Calanus’ death, the death of Hephaestion also serves as a prelude for Alexander’s end. Arrian connects the deaths of these two friends by explaining to the reader that the three thousand performers who participated in the athletic and musical games in memory of Hephaestion would compete a little later at Alexander’s burial (7.14.10). The pivotal point of this preparatory dark atmosphere lies in ch. 7.16.5, where we meet for the first time in the work an oracle on Alexander’s death and his reaction to it. On his way from the Tigris to Babylon, some Chaldaean seers met Alexander and advised him not to enter the city because they had received an oracle from the god Belus that his visit at the city at the present moment would put him at risk. When Alexander answered them in a contemptuous manner using a line of Euripides, they begged him at least not to enter Babylon with his army looking towards the sun. Arrian explains that Alexander suspected that the Chaldaean seers wanted to dissuade him from entering the city in order not to be deprived by him of the profits they earned from the administration of Belus’ temple. Nonetheless, he tried to follow their advice to arrive at the eastern part of the city, but he was prevented by the geographical makeup of the territory. Arrian comments twice that “divine power led him on the path which once taken determined his immediate death” (7.16.7; cf. the similar comment of ch. 7.17.6). In the historian’s mind, the gods blessed Alexander and allowed him to die at the peak of his fame and popularity, as a truly happy man similar to those described by Solon in his advice to Croesus in the famous Herodotean episode. The oracle of Belus paves the way for two equally sinister omens. In ch. 7.22, we read that, when Alexander was crossing with his navy the marshes where the tombs of the kings of Assyria were built, a breeze struck his cap and the diadem. The first of them fell into the water, while the second was caught on one of the reeds which grew on a royal tomb. After two chapters, Arrian records one further omen, opening his account with the words “but in fact Alexander’s own end was now close. Aristobulus says that there was a further portent of what was to come” (7.24.1). Alexander was adding to his forces the troops that had arrived with Peucestas from Persia and with Philoxenus and Menander from the sea. At a certain moment, he left his throne empty in order to find some water to drink. In his absence, an inconspicuous person, according to some a prisoner under open arrest, sat on the throne. When Alexander learned this, he ordered that the man be arrested and asked him if he did this as an act of rebellion. The man answered that he just did this spontaneously. According to Arrian, “this actually made the

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seers readier to interpret what had happened as portending no good for Alexander.” These episodes prepare the reader for the final resolution of the plot, Alexander’s death, which does not come about abruptly but as the culmination of an extensive escalating narrative thread. The stories also serve as elements of retardation before the hero’s end. As in the previous accumulations of anecdotes, in this case too Arrian chooses the most striking point of his account to add an atemporal digression of incidents. On the occasion of the story on Belus’ oracle, he adds a group of stories about further predictions of Alexander’s death. As in the anecdotes on Alexander and the philosophers, the digression is linked to its context with the words ἐπεὶ καί. The first story transfers us to a period somewhere before Hephaestion’s death. According to Aristobulus, Apollodorus of Amphipolis, commander of the forces left behind by Alexander to Mazaeus at Babylon, felt anxious about his future, as he was watching Alexander punishing those governors of the conquered lands who committed sacrileges and crimes against the people. He therefore asked his brother Pithagoras, a seer who prophesied from the flesh of the sacrificed animals, to augur about him. Pithagoras first consulted the flesh about Hephaestion and quietened his brother, saying to him that Hephaestion would die soon. Apollodorus revealed his brother’s letter to Alexander one day before Hephaestion’s death. When Pithagoras sent him an equally sinister prophecy which related to Alexander, Apollodorus gave the letter to Alexander, who appreciated the sincerity of the two brothers (7.18.1–4). At this point, Arrian transfers us two years later, relating Pithagoras’ valid predictions of Perdiccas’ and Antigonus’ deaths (7.18.5), while at the end he goes back again to the day of Calanus’ burial. Some say that Calanus, although he greeted all the Companions, refused to greet Alexander, saying that he would meet him at Babylon. The Macedonians paid no attention to Calanus’ words at the moment, but, when Alexander died, they recalled them, concluding that Calanus had foretold Alexander’s death (7.18.6). The placement of these stories at this specific point contributes to the escalation of the route towards Alexander’s end. Arrian could have attached them to the two omens of ch. 7.22 and ch. 7.24. However, their appearance on the occasion of Belus’ oracle comes at the most striking point of this culmination. Alexander enters the city where he will die and thus for the first time crosses the borderline between the world of the living and that of the dead. The accumulation of prophecies about his death and the deaths of others serves as a prelude to this final resolution and signals to the reader that she is entering the last stage of the protagonist’s life. Arrian must have found Pithagoras’ predictions with regard to Hephaestion, Alexander, Perdiccas, and Antigonus already gathered in Aristobulus’

142  Atemporality and Characterization account. On the other hand, the inclusion of Calanus’ prophecy might betray Arrian’s own initiative, given that he could have included the anecdote much earlier, in the main account of Calanus’ burial (7.2.4–3.6). Given that the atemporal collection of stories was a distinctive feature of ancient past narratives, one may reasonably argue that some of these digressions must have already been composed by authors earlier than Arrian. In this case, Arrian may well have written down these stories exactly as he read them in his sources. This must have been the case, as we saw, with Pithagoras’ prophecies. Similar conclusions can be reached concerning some parts of the digression of ch. 4.8–14, the co-examination of Rhoxane’s and Stateira’s exempla, and the stories of the philosophers. As for ch. 4.8–14, we find a similar atemporal gathering of those episodes in Plutarch (Alex. 48–55) and Diodorus (index 17 κζ – κη), while Curtius too records the Callisthenes episode immediately after Clitus’ death (8.5.5ff.).39 Accordingly, we also find the collection of stories on Alexander’s continence with women in other authors as well. Plutarch (Alex. 21.2–11) gathers anecdotes on Darius’ wife, Memnon’s wife Barsine, and Alexander’s moderation towards all the Persian captive women. Last, the anecdotes of Alexander and the philosophers were a very popular group of stories both in Alexander’s historical tradition and the rhetorical and philosophical schools of the Imperial Age, which were designed to stress Alexander’s love for or neglect of the philosophical doctrines on sophrosyne.40 The question then arises as to whether we can trace in all these digressions any signs of Arrian’s creativity. Arrian twice confesses to us that he deviates from his linear account consciously. This is the case in the sizable digression of Book IV (4.8.1; 4.14.4) and the placement of the anecdote on Alexander’s endurance in the Gedrosian account (6.26.1). However, even if we did not have the author’s explicit statements

 39 Schwartz (RE II, 1, col. 1240) supports the view that Diodorus found the atemporal arrangement in Cleitarchus; FGrH 124, Komm., 413; Kornemann 1935, 138; Brown 1949, 245 n. 94; Edmunds 1971, 387; Bosworth 1981, 33; HCA II, 46; AAA II, 391. Moreover, although this technique was more popular for biographers than for historians, it would be arbitrary to exclude the possibility that Arian borrowed such atemporal collections of anecdotes from historical texts. Examples from both Greek and Roman historiography can show to us that an ancient historian, when he thought it was necessary, could move beyond the borders of the usual annalistic narrative method and digress by offering a series of episodes in order to disseminate to his readers certain messages (Saller 1980; Dover 1988b). 40 Cf., e.g., Plu. De Alex. fort. 332a–c, who narrates the episodes of Diogenes and the Brahmins together. See HCA I, 13–14; Bosworth 1988a, 73–74; Powers 1998; Whitmarsh 2002, 179ff. For a recent and exhaustive survey of both sources and literature, see Koulakiotis 2006, 127–139; Bosman 2010.

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at our disposal, the limited exploitation of this technique in the work betrays by itself his intention not to harm the general sense of linearity in his account for the sake of atemporal collections of stories. We find these collections only when it is necessary, in pivotal moments of Alexander’s life, which are also famous themes in the literature of Alexander. These are his marriage, his greatest mistakes, his plans about his next expedition, and his death. In this way, the atemporal collections of anecdotes serve the reader as meta-narrative markers of the crucial nature of the events to which they are attached. More importantly, the contribution of these collections to the structuring of Alexander’s dynamic image indicates that Arrian wished to use the emphatic load of this scheme as one of the foundations of his overall narrative design.

. Emphatic anachronies beyond the atemporal collections of episodes The atemporal collection of episodes is not the only type of anachronies that emphasizes features of Alexander’s character. This goal is also served by some further kinds of disruption of the linear narrative flow. We have already seen in the previous chapter that Arrian transferred Barsaentes’ execution some years earlier, in order to add one further event that proves Alexander’s intention to punish Darius’ murderers. The following examples show that this technique is a common feature of the Anabasis. Let us begin with the aftermath of the Macedonian victory at Issus (2.11.8–10). Τhe narration has reached the end of the battle and we read of the Persian casualties. Darius lost many notable officials and 100,000 men, while he saw his family, alongside with some aristocrat women, being captured. At this point comes a prolepsis (2.11.10): ἐπεὶ καὶ Δαρεῖος τῶν τε χρημάτων τὰ πολλὰ καὶ ὅσα ἄλλα μεγάλῳ βασιλεῖ ἐς πολυτελῆ δίαιταν καὶ στρατευομένῳ ὅμως συνέπεται πεπόμφει ἐς Δαμασκόν, ὥστε ἐν τῷ στρατεύματι οὐ πλείονα ἢ τρισχίλια τάλαντα ἑάλω. ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ ἐν Δαμασκῷ χρήματα ὀλίγον ὕστερον ἑάλω ὑπὸ Παρμενίωνος ἐπ’ αὐτὸ τοῦτο σταλέντος. τοῦτο τὸ τέλος τῇ μάχῃ ἐκείνῃ ἐγένετο ἐπὶ ἄρχοντος Ἀθηναίοις Νικοκράτους μηνὸς Μαιμακτηριῶνος. Darius too had sent there [i.e. in Damascus] the greater part of his money and everything else a great king takes with him even on a campaign for his extravagant way of living; so they [i.e. the Macedonians] found no more than three thousand Talents in the camp. However, the money at Damascus too was captured soon after by Parmenio, who was specially detailed for this purpose. So ended this battle, fought in the archonship at Athens of Nicocrates and in the month Maimacterion.

144  Atemporality and Characterization Arrian includes in his catalogue of losses the seizure of the money as well, although this came about later.41 These paragraphs underline the size of the Persian disaster – or, conversely, the size of the Macedonian success.42 Schemes such as Ptolemy’s sensational story, according to which the Macedonians crossed a canyon by stepping on corpses, the repetition of the verb ἁλίσκομαι (ἑάλω / ἑάλωσαν / ἑάλω / ἑάλω), and the polysyndeton τό τε … καί … καί … δὲ καί … καί all capture Arrian’s rhetoric in his effort to impress the reader with regard to the Macedonians’ exploits. The proleptic reference to the seizure of the royal money should be seen as part of this rhetoric. The event is also narrated rectilinearly (2.15.1). However, his need to stress the significance of Alexander’s victory forced Arrian to relocate it in the catalogue of the losses too. Should this temporal displacement be attributed to Arrian or to his sources? Rhetoric undoubtedly reflects the author’s personal aims, and, as we saw, there is indeed an intense rhetorical flavor in the context of the prolepsis. More importantly, the repetition of the verb ἁλίσκομαι is a distinctive feature of Arrian’s way of writing.43 It is also worth considering that rhetoric does not unfold here only in terms of vocabulary and style but also functions on a temporal level. The crossing of the canyon recorded by Ptolemy took place during the battle, when Alexander, Ptolemy, and other Macedonians chased Darius. The event should thus have been narrated in ch. 2.11.6, where it temporally belongs on a historical level. However, Arrian transferred the episode at this point in order to render it more effective. This must also be the case with the prolepsis of ch. 2.11.10. In total, we have two elements, the sensational scene of the crossing of the canyon full of bodies and the capture of the money at Damascus, which are gathered here not according to their chronological order but as parts of a rhetoric scheme that stresses the magnitude of the Macedonian victory. A similar function is performed by the prolepses in ch. 2.15.4–5, where Arrian tries again to praise Alexander with regard to his victory at Issus. If the anachronies in the catalogue of the Persian casualties (2.11.8–10) contributed to the presentation of Alexander as a great conqueror, this pair highlights his magnanimity and clemency as a victor. Without resentment, the king chooses not to take advantage of his power and to forgive the Greek ambassadors, who had been sent

 41 On the interval between the victory and the capture of the money, see HCA I, 218–219 and for further bibliography, ibid. 218. 42 HCA I, 217. 43 Cf. 1.1.13; 2.15.1–2.

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by their cities to Darius before the battle of Issus. In particular, we read of the envoys of Thebes, Athens, and Sparta. As in the catalogue of the Persian losses, the text is again carefully composed. With regard to Alexander’s feelings towards the Thebans and the Athenians, the text unfolds in a harmonious way, with two datives used for each of them. Concerning the Thebans, we read that Alexander set them loose, because he pitied them (κατοικτίσει) for the destruction of their city and out of shame (αἰδοῖ), for Thessaliscus due to his distinguished position in Thebes and for Dionysodorus because he was a winner of the Olympic games. This ideal portrait of Alexander reflects Arrian’s aim to lend a more positive endorsement to Alexander’s relationship with Thebes, a need which can be first traced in the account of the destruction of the city by the Macedonians.44 With regard to the Athenian Iphicrates, we read that Alexander did him no harm due to his friendship (φιλίᾳ) for Athens and due to his respect (μνήμῃ) for Iphicrates’ father. At this point comes the first prolepsis (2.15.5): Ἰφικράτην δὲ φιλίᾳ τε τῆς Ἀθηναίων πόλεως καὶ μνήμῃ τῆς δόξης τοῦ πατρὸς ζῶντά τε ἀμφ’ αὑτὸν ἔχων ἐς τὰ μάλιστα ἐτίμησε καὶ νόσῳ τελευτήσαντος τὰ ὀστᾶ ἐς τὰς Ἀθήνας τοῖς πρὸς γένους ἀπέπεμψεν. From friendship for Athens and remembrance of his father’s fame, he kept Iphicrates in attendance and paid him special honor; when he died, he sent back his bones to his relatives at Athens.

One wonders what kind of honor might arise when someone is kept in attendance against his own will, as also happened to the Spartan Euthycles (ibid.): Εὐθυκλέα δὲ Λακεδαιμόνιόν τε ὄντα, πόλεως περιφανῶς ἐχθρᾶς ἐν τῷ τότε, καὶ αὐτὸν οὐδὲν ἰδίᾳ εὑρισκόμενον ἐς ξυγγνώμην ὅ τι καὶ λόγου ἄξιον, τὰ μὲν πρῶτα ἐν φυλακῇ ἀδέσμῳ εἶχεν, ὕστερον δέ, ὡς ἐπὶ μέγα εὐτύχει, καὶ τοῦτον ἀφῆκεν. Euthycles, however, as a Lacedaemonian, from a city conspicuously hostile to him [i.e. Alexander] at the moment, and as a person unable to produce any reasonable claim to individual pardon, was at first kept under guard, though not in bonds; but later, when successes crowded in on Alexander, he too was released.

In this episode, we have four envoys and the fates of the two of them are added here in a proleptic fashion as parts of a rhetoric whole on the king’s magnanimity. In these two prolepses, Arrian disrupts his linear account in order to deemphasize the fact that Alexander captured those men.  44 See Chapter I, pp. 24–25.

146  Atemporality and Characterization These prolepses belong to a passage that presents Alexander as the philhellene king, which is why their content should not be attributed to Arrian but to the Macedonians. The Macedonian propaganda had followed the diachronic practice whereby all those who aspired to rule Greece presented themselves as the liberators and protectors of the Greeks. After the Persian Wars, Athens established its empire in the pretext of the Persian threat,45 while the Spartans, during the Peloponnesian War, were presenting themselves as the liberators of the Greeks from Athens.46 The Thebans and the Corinthian League both stood at the head of an effort to “free” Greece from the Spartans. In a similar way, Philip concluded the treaty of Corinth in 337 BCE and Alexander renewed it in order to avenge the Persians and to secure the freedom of all the Greeks.47 In our case, Alexander is presented as a friend of Thebes and as seeking reconciliation even with the Spartans. He is portrayed as respecting the Greek cities, their heroes and their institutions. The content of the two prolepses on Iphicrates and Euthycles’ fate must thus have emerged from exactly this defensive rhetoric of the Macedonian propaganda, which was also followed by the first historians of Alexander.48 As a result, the picture of “Alexander the philhellene” had already crystallized into a pattern of the tradition, long before Arrian, which is why we cannot exclude the possibility that he drew the two prolepses from his sources. In ch. 6.27.5 we find another example which resembles the prolepsis on Barsaentes. During his stay in Carmania, Alexander is visited by Cleander, Sitalces, and Heracon, the three generals that had taken command of the army in Media after Parmenio’s death. Alexander executed the two of them, Cleander and Sitalces, because he was informed that they had plundered and desecrated even the temples of the region they had been entrusted with. This actorial analepsis fills the gaps of information caused by Arrian’s focus on Alexander in the preceding account. However, there are further anachronies in this passage, which highlight Alexander’s sense of justice. On the occasion of this information, Arrian proceeds to make a generalizing, laudatory comment on Alexander’s severity in such cases, arguing that it was exactly this strictness that secured the harmonious administration of the conquered lands.49 This comment broadens the temporal scope of the narrative, since it covers the whole period of Alexander’s control of  45 Th. 1.75.2; 96.1. See Croix de Ste. 1954, 40; Meiggs, 1972, 44; Hornblower 19852, 478; COT 144– 145 with exhaustive bibliography. 46 Th. 4.108.2; 8.2.4. Liotsakis 2017, 50, 54, 56, 65. 47 Brunt 1976, xlviii–xlix; Perlman 1985. 48 On this aspect see Kornemann 1935, 2–3; Montgomery 1965, 177ff. On Alexander as liberator of Greece, see Rüegg 1906, 9; AAA I, XXII–XXIII. 49 Stadter 1980, 85–86.

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Asia. Immediately after this comment, Arrian blurs the linearity of his account even further through a prolepsis on the fate of the third general, Heracon: Ἡράκων δὲ τότε μὲν ἀφείθη τῆς αἰτίας· ὀλίγον δὲ ὕστερον ἐξελεγχθεὶς πρὸς ἀνδρῶν Σουσίων σεσυληκέναι τὸ ἐν Σούσοις ἱερὸν καὶ οὗτος ἔδωκεν δίκην. Heracon was for the time acquitted of the charge; but soon afterwards was convicted by men from Susa of having plundered the temple of Susa, and paid the penalty.

Once again, Arrian adds an event not in chronological order but because of its context and usefulness in highlighting a feature of Alexander’s character. Highly representative of this technique are the anachronies in ch. 6.30.1–3. We are here at the point where Alexander visits Pasargadae and Persepolis. The following chapters (6.29–30), which introduce the closure of Book VI and relate Alexander’s stay there, contribute to the favorable presentation of Alexander as a conqueror who respects the culture of the defeated, in this case of the Persians, and as the governor who generally protects civilization.50 The Macedonian king, on learning about the desecration of Cyrus’ tomb at Pasargadae, orders Aristobulus to restore the spoiled monument and, during his stay in Persepolis, regrets burning the royal palace (3.18.11). The illustration of Alexander’s respect for the Persians culminates in his decision to execute Orxines, the Persians’ satrap, because this man had plundered temples and royal tombs and unjustly killed many Persians. In his effort to reform the administration of the Persians, Alexander appoints Peucestas as their satrap. The latter was considered by the king to be appropriate for this position due to his loyalty and his self-sacrifice in the battle against the Malli, when he saved the wounded king (6.10.1–2). More importantly, Peucestas was keen to embrace the Persian customs. The reasons why Alexander decided to restore Cyrus’ tomb, punished Orxines and assigned his office to Peucestas are offered by three analepses. First, we have the actorial analepses on the desecration of Cyrus’ tomb and on the injustices committed by Orxines to the Persians during Alexander’s absence (6.29.4– 30.2). These are two typical actorial analepses that cover, as usually, the gaps of our knowledge on what happened in other fields of action, gaps which are generated by Arrian’s focus on Alexander’s route. Second, we have the narratorial analepsis on Peucestas’ rescue of Alexander in the crucial battle against the Malli, which explains Alexander’s trust in this man (6.30.2). However, Arrian adds two further details through a narratorial analepsis and prolepsis by association with the main subject of the plot at this point, which is  50 Stadter 1980, 85–86; AAA II, 572–576.

148  Atemporality and Characterization Alexander’s respect for the Persian culture. The analepsis recalls Alexander’s burning of the royal palaces and highlights his present regret. This flashback does not contribute to the plot development. It merely penetrates Alexander’s inner world (6.30.1, and cf. 3.18.11ff.). At the end of the unit, there is also the following prolepsis on Peucestas’ keenness to embrace the Persian culture (6.30.3): […] σατράπην δὲ Πέρσαις ἔταξε Πευκέσταν τὸν σωματοφύλακα [...] καὶ ἄλλως τῷ βαρβαρικῷ τρόπῳ τῆς διαίτης οὐκ ἀξύμφορον· ἐδήλωσε δὲ ἐσθῆτά τε εὐθὺς ὡς κατεστάθη σατραπεύειν Περσῶν μόνος τῶν ἄλλων Μακεδόνων μεταβαλὼν τὴν Μηδικὴν καὶ φωνὴν τὴν Περσικὴν ἐκμαθὼν καὶ τἆλλα ξύμπαντα ἐς τρόπον τὸν Περσικὸν κατασκευασάμενος. ἐφ’ οἷς Ἀλέξανδρός γε ἐπῄνει αὐτὸν καὶ οἱ Πέρσαι ὡς τὰ παρὰ σφίσι πρὸ τῶν πατρίων πρεσβεύοντι ἔχαιρον. As satrap of the Persians he appointed Peucestas the bodyguard […] as otherwise well suited to the post because of his oriental mode of life, which he publicly adopted as soon as he was made satrap of Persia; he was the only Macedonian to change over the Median dress and learn the Persian language, and in all other respects assimilated himself to Persian ways. This brought him Alexander’s commendations and the Persians were gratified that he preferred their ways to those of his own ancestors.

Peucestas cannot have learned the Persian language immediately and the imperfects ἐπῄνει and ἔχαιρον look forward at the satisfaction of both Alexander and the Persians during Peucestas’ governorship, namely after the narrative point we have reached so far.51 Arrian breaks again his rectilinear account in order to add an event – or, to be more precise, a whole historical period – into a group of events that underline some qualities of Alexander, in this case his respect for the conquered peoples and his prudence in the selection of the governors of his empire. To recapitulate, in all these cases the temporal expansion of the storyline (be it backwards or forwards) does not aim to fill the gaps of information created by the march-narrative, as is the case with the actorial analepses on the routes and the actions of others in the messenger’s announcements to the king. Furthermore, it does not necessarily render our reading of the ensuing events as smoother, as the narratorial prolepses on Alexander’s plans do. Rather, they add events by their association with the goal of each case, which is to stress a feature of Alexander’s character. However, despite their rhetorical nature, they cannot

 51 Bosworth 1980, 12 n. 100.

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be classified as narratives by species, since the events they introduce are not separate from the rest of the episodes in which they are incorporated, as happens in the timeless collections of episodes.

. Anachronies in the treason episodes Five further anachronies can be gathered into a single category due to their common function. Specifically, they all bring to the foreground Alexander’s clemency and magnanimity towards his men. Arrian juxtaposes the perfidy and ingratitude of a Macedonian traitor with the honors Alexander had offered to him in the past. The first three examples are the analepses in the accounts of the Lyncestian Alexander’s treason (1.25.1–2), Harpalus’ desertion (3.6.4–7), and Philotas’ involvement in the conspiracy against Alexander (3.26.1). In all three cases, Arrian opens his account with a short flashback on Alexander’s trust in each of these men and the honors they had been offered by him before betraying him. In ch. 1.25.1, Alexander is informed of the Lyncestian Alexander’s machinations. The account opens with a flashback on the man’s relations with the king since Philip’s death until the revelation of his plotting. Although his brothers were involved in the assassination of Philip, the Lyncestian had remained loyal to the young king. In return, Alexander had made him general during his expedition in Thrace and commander of the Thessalian cavalry during the campaign in Asia (1.25.1–2). This analepsis ends with the details on how the Lyncestian’s scheming developed and thereby returns to where the narrative had initially began, when Alexander was informed of the conspiracy in Phaselis (1.25.3–5). From this point onwards, the narrative thread unfolds for a few lines in a linear fashion, focusing on the council that Alexander gathered in order to decide how he would unravel the case. The Macedonians complained to the king that he had assigned the command of the cavalry to an unreliable man (1.25.5–6). Now comes another analepsis: the Macedonians were also afraid of an omen, which had occurred during the siege of Halicarnassus and had been interpreted by Aristander as a sign that a conspiracy would take place (1.25.6–8). The story ends with Alexander’s plan, which led to the revelation and the arrest of the traitor (1.25.9–10). Although most of the information offered in those flashbacks contributes to the coherence and development of the plot, some details are also oriented towards the moral evaluation of Alexander. The part of the analepsis that refers to the Lyncestian’s machinations is related to the main subject of the unit, the conspiracy. Arrian chose not to interrupt his march-narrative at the point where the conspiracy actually took place, in order to narrate it at the most appropriate moment. Similarly, the analepses on the Lyncestian’s command of the Macedonian

150  Atemporality and Characterization cavalry and the omen in Halicarnassus introduce events that could have been related earlier, in ch. 1.17.1–8 and ch. 1.20.2–23.8 respectively. However, these events are placed here due to their explanatory role in our understanding of the Macedonians’ and Alexander’s thoughts during and after the council (1.25.5–6; 1.25.9). However, the part of the introductory analepsis that refers to the Lyncestian’s relation with Alexander in the years between Philip’s death and the campaign in Thrace is added merely by association with the assignment of the command of the cavalry in Asia. Its effect is above all to give further emphasis to Alexander’s magnanimity. The prehistory of the two men’s affairs certainly sheds light on the reasons why Alexander entrusted the cavalry to the Lyncestian. However, these details cannot be deemed an integral part of the plot of the conspiracy in an equal fashion to the other analepses; the reader can easily follow the plot development even without this information. This introduction is thus not only explanatory but also evaluative. It helps the reader approach the present betrayal through the prism of the king’s kindness towards the traitor in the past. Arrian invites us in this way to deem the conspiracy as an unexcused act of ingratitude and to sympathize with the deceived king, who is victimized in our eyes. Consequently, the punishment of the traitor emerges as a legitimate decision and as a moral vindication of the king.52 The analepsis of ch. 3.6.4–7, although more extensive, functions in a similar way. Alexander has returned from Egypt to Tyre and confides the taxes of Phoenicia and of the land east of Mount Taurus to Harpalus, who has just returned to Tyre after his flight to Megaris. At this point, Arrian composes an analepsis on the causes of the man’s flight, which again takes us back to a historical period that is much earlier than the surrounding one. The analepsis transfers us again in the years of Philip’s reign. At a period when Philip and Alexander were at loggerheads over Philip’s marriage to Eurydice, Philip exiled some of his son’s friends, such as Ptolemy of Lagus, Nearchus of Androtimus, Erigyius and Laomedon, sons of Larichus, and Harpalus of Machatas. After Philip’s death, Alexander rewarded those men for their loyalty to him by offering to them distinguished military and administrative offices. Ptolemy was made bodyguard, Harpalus treasurer due to his incapability to fight, Erigyius head of the allied cavalry. Moreover, his brother was made officer in charge of the barbarian captives, as he was bilingual, and Nearchus was made satrap of Lycia, including the territory from Lycia to Taurus.  52 This analepsis is one of the many aspects suggestive of the “apologetic tendency of the narrative” on the Lyncestian Alexander mentioned by Bosworth (HCA I, 164). Cf. Carney (1980, 31), who finds that the episode “is full of mysterious melodrama”.

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Some time before the battle of Issus, Harpalus, convinced by a ‘wicked’ Tauriscus to abandon Alexander, fled to Megaris. Alexander, however, invited him to return, promising not merely to do him no harm but to entrust to him the taxes of Phoenicia (331 BCE). This timeless digression covers a period of time from Philip’s marriage to Eurydice (337 BCE) up to a point that is hard to discern. Its atemporality is partly caused by its condensed form and the vagueness of its chronological markers. There is a discernible sequence of events (Philip’s marriage, the exile of Alexander’s friends, their return and their rewards, as well as Harpalus’ flight), but Arrian does not allow us to define the exact intervals between those events. For example, the narrative informs us that Alexander assigned the offices to those men after Philip’s death (3.6.6: τελευτήσαντος δὲ Φιλίππου) but not exactly when. The chronological vagueness of these paragraphs also consists in the fact that the assignments themselves are reeled off with no respect to their chronological order. The account has reached 331 BCE. Ptolemy’s inclusion in the bodyguards is thus reported in an anticipatory fashion, since it cannot have happened before the autumn of 330 BC.53 Moreover, as it stands in Arrian’s account, Ptolemy’s office precedes Nearchus’ satrapy of Lycia, although Nearchus took over his duties in 333 BCE. We feel equally confused as to exactly when Erigyius and Laomedon were offered their offices. The analeptic digression is, of course, introduced on the occasion of Harpalus’ flight, but only its last paragraph (3.6.7) is necessary for understanding the reasons why this man fled. The rest of the information on Alexander’s magnanimity towards the other men since Philip’s death (3.6.5–6) constitutes a deviation that offers by association further examples, apart from the example of Harpalus, of Alexander’s kindness to those who remain loyal to him. The chronological sequence is sacrificed for the sake of Alexander’s portrait. Through this analepsis, Arrian turns a routine account of a duty assignment into a group of exempla of the king’s kindness.54 We find the same technique at play when Arrian introduces the reader to Philotas’ involvement in the conspiracy of ch. 3.26.1. Similarly to the analepsis on the Lyncestian Alexander, this one too belongs to an apologetic unit. In this case,

 53 HCA I, 283. 54 On this flashback, see Badian 1960a, 22 and 1960b, 245; Heckel 1977b; Carney 1981b, 10; Worthington 1984, 166. Cf. Plu. Alex. 41.8, who includes Alexander’s disbelief in the news that his friend fled in a series of examples of Alexander’s respect for friendship.

152  Atemporality and Characterization Arrian excuses Alexander’s decision to kill Philotas.55 We are at the point where Alexander has reached Artacoana in 330 BCE and is informed of Philotas’ machinations. Again, the account opens with an analepsis, in which Arrian transfers us to a few months earlier, informing us of the well-intentioned feelings of the king towards Philotas. Alexander had already been informed of Philotas’ machinations during his stay in Egypt (331 BCE). However, he did not want to believe anything that he heard there, because he trusted Philotas and had an excellent relationship with his father Parmenio. The latter had a significant position in the Macedonian army. Again, this flashback includes the conspiracy too (3.26.2), which is, of course, the main subject of the unit. The part of the analepsis, on the other hand, on the prehistory of Alexander’s and Philotas’ relations has a more evaluative role, in that Philotas’ betrayal appears to be a sign of his ingratitude and is therefore unjust. This is why the penalty of death is absolutely legitimate in the reader’s mind.56 Is this narrative pattern Arrian’s own innovation or did he draw it from his sources? However, given a choice between these two options, we should not exclude a third alternative: In some or all of these cases Arrian might have consciously chosen to adopt a technique, which he had noticed in Alexander’s literature. Since we do not possess the text of any of Arrian’s sources, it is difficult to reach secure conclusions in this respect, especially with regard to the analepses on the Lyncestian Alexander and Harpalus. In Philip’s years, the latter shared the same fate of exile with Ptolemy of Lagus, Arrian’s principal source. In this respect, we may assume that Arrian possibly drew the information on Harpalus from Ptolemy’s history.57 Now, the question as to whether the placement of this information at this point of the plot should be attributed to Ptolemy or to Arrian is harder to answer. However, the abundance of these anachronies in the Anaba-

 55 In contrast to other sources, which offer detailed accounts on the alleged plot and Philotas’ defensive speech and reserve to confirm that Philotas did indeed plot against Alexander (D.S. 17.79–80; Curt. 6.7.1–11.40; Plu. Alex. 48–49; Justin 12.5.1–8, who explicitly states that he considers Philotas and Parmenio innocent), Arrian omits further details concerning the exact content of the accusations and Philotas’ speech. He also presents him from the very beginning as a traitor and closes his narrative by excusing Alexander even for killing Parmenio with no negative comments (on the absence of comments, see Brunt 1976, 519). See, further, Berve 1926, 394; Robinson 1945, 423–424; Tarn 1948 I, 62–63; Badian 1958, 149–150; Badian 1960a, 326 n. 8; Hamilton 1969, 134; Schachermeyr 1973, 329 n. 386 and 334 n. 393; Heckel 1977a, 19, 21; HCA I, 359–363; Gissel 1995; Willing 1996–1997; O’Neil 1999, 28–34; AAA I, 539. 56 Strasburger 1934, 37; HCA I, 359. 57 But see HCA I, 282 with further bibliography.

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sis suggests by itself that Arrian knew exactly what he was doing. This is not because we exclude the possibility that he followed a source in applying this technique, but because it is hard to believe that he failed to notice a technique which he was forced or eager to use repeatedly.58 This view is strengthened by the comparison of Philotas’ narrative with the accounts from other surviving sources. According to Arrian, Alexander had already been informed of Philotas’ intrigues during his stay in Egypt (3.26.1). It is telling in this respect that, on the occasion of Alexander’s visit to the oasis of Siwah, Curtius (4.7.29–32) proceeds with an extensive digression about the Macedonians’ resentment towards Alexander’s demand to be treated as a god. If Philotas had indeed long ago started sharing with his lover Antigone his antipathy towards Alexander,59 he could probably have also taken advantage of the general atmosphere of dissatisfaction in the Macedonian circles over Alexander’s alleged divinity, and touched upon this issue too.60 If this was the case, two alternatives are possible. One is that, although Philotas’ accusations in Egypt had been included in a linear narration by Ptolemy and Aristobulus in the Siwah story, Arrian related the event analeptically as part of his defense of Alexander’s decision to kill Philotas. The other alternative is that Arrian found this information in Ptolemy’s and Aristobulus’ accounts (or in other sources) exactly at the point where he offers it. This is possible, since it must have been a common practice of some authors to open their accounts on this affair with an analepsis about the prehistory between Alexander and Philotas.61 This technique is also employed in the analepsis on the treason of Amyntas, son of Antiochus. Arrian hastens again to absolve Alexander of any responsibility for this man’s defection, clarifying that “he had not actually suffered at Alexander’s hands, but he was disaffected and did not think he deserved to suffer harm at his hands” (1.17.9). It is also worth examining the prolepsis of ch. 2.13.3 on the death of Amyntas. Arrian here narrates the activities of some Macedonian defectors after the battle of Issus. These men resorted to Tripolis of Phoenicia, from where they went to Egypt via Cyprus. At this point, we find the prolepsis: “[…] a little later Amyntas, stirring up some trouble or other (πολυπραγμονῶν τι), was killed by the natives.” Once again, Arrian spins his narrative thread more than he  58 Cf. Strasburger’s (1934, 12) observation that Arrian must have used the phrase πόθος λαμβάνει αὐτόν consciously, even if he took it from the Hellenistic historiographical tradition (cf. FGrH 133 F1; Curt. 3.1.16; 4.8.3; 7.11.4; Justin 11.7.4; 12.7.13. Schubert 1922, 6; Ehrenberg 1926, 30ff.; Jacoby 1926, 462), given that he uses it seven times. 59 Plu. Alex. 48.4–7; cf. De Alex. fort. 339a–340a. 60 Hammond 1993, 85; AAA I, 540. 61 Cf. Plu. Alex. 48.1–49.2.

154  Atemporality and Characterization needed to, this time in a forwards direction. The proleptic reference to Amyntas reflects a tradition in the sources of Alexander. In other historians, Amyntas is treated as an unreliable fortune-hunter, who is ready to betray any king whom he follows. According to Diodorus (17.48.4–5) and Curtius Rufus (4.1.29–30), Amyntas fled to Egypt, where he tried to deceive the inhabitants by claiming that he was sent there by Darius as a governor of the area.62 The Persian garrisons resisted, but Amyntas and his army defeated them, forcing them to confine themselves inside the walls of their city. However, while the Macedonians were collecting the spoils of the victory, the Persians (Curtius Rufus) or some natives (Diodorus and Arrian) attacked and killed them, including Amyntas. Both Diodorus and Curtius give to their accounts a moralizing and didactic tone, touching upon issues such as the way in which a man should deal with temporary fortune and the hopes that emerge from it.63 More significantly, both authors narrate Amyntas’ story at a different point from the point at which Arrian does, (Curtius immediately before and Diodorus shortly after the siege of Tyre), while both of them give to Amyntas a leading and thus exemplary role in relation to the rest of the defectors. Arrian’s prolepsis should thus be considered deliberate. Once again, it is hard to conclude whether he chose to relocate the episode on Amyntas’ death by himself or following one of his sources. However, the fact that two surviving sources have the same information in different points than their position in Arrian allows for the possibility that, even if he drew this dislocation from his immediate sources, Aristobulus and Ptolemy, he was also aware of the fact that in other accounts (from which Diodorus and Rufus drew) the Amyntas case was placed after the siege of Tyre. In this case, Arrian’s choice to transfer Amyntas’ death at this point of his account reflects his wish to show us that doom is the only fate for those who betray Alexander. His demeaning attitude towards Amyntas is apparent in the verb with which he describes the man’s activity in Egypt (πολυπραγμονῶν).64 All these examples stand in sharp contrast with the converted function of the same technique in Clitus’ affair. In this case too, after narrating how Alexander  62 Curtius also touches analeptically upon Amyntas’ betrayal in the Issus description (3.11.18), albeit without proceeding to any prolepsis about the man’s end in Egypt. 63 Goukowski 1976, 202; Atkinson 1980, 286; Prandi 2013, 75; Wulfram 2016b, 343. Those deserters’ fate must have been a topos in the accounts of the first historians of Alexander (cf. Anaximenes of Lampsacus, son of Aristocles (c. 380–320 BCE), FGrH 72 F17 on Aristomedes of Pherae mentioned by Arrian too in ch. 2.13.2–3). 64 This verb and its derivatives are always used by Arrian in a negative tone (cf. 7.1.6; 7.10.3; 7.12.6). Arrian’s negativity towards Amyntas strengthens even more the possibility that he was aware of accounts that presented the man’s deeds in Egypt in a pejorative way.

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killed Clitus, Arrian proceeds to an analepsis similar to those examined above, this time on the prehistory of the associations between Alexander and Clitus’ family (4.9.3–4): ἀπελθόντα δὲ ἐς τὴν εὐνὴν κεῖσθαι ὀδυρόμενον, αὐτόν τε τὸν Κλεῖτον ὀνομαστὶ ἀνακαλοῦντα καὶ τὴν Κλείτου μὲν ἀδελφήν, αὐτὸν δὲ ἀναθρεψαμένην, Λανίκην τὴν Δρωπίδου παῖδα, ὡς καλὰ ἄρα αὐτῇ τροφεῖα ἀποτετικὼς εἴη ἀνδρωθείς, ἥ γε τοὺς μὲν παῖδας τοὺς ἑαυτῆς ὑπὲρ αὐτοῦ μαχομένους ἐπεῖδεν ἀποθανόντας, τὸν ἀδελφὸν δὲ αὐτῆς αὐτὸς αὐτοχειρίᾳ ἔκτεινε. Alexander took to his bed and lay there mourning, crying out the name of Clitus and of Clitus’ sister, Lanice, daughter of Dropides, who had nursed him: what a fine return for her nursing had he given her, now that he was a man! She had seen her sons die fighting for him, and now with his own hand he killed her brother.

In contrast with the previous analepses, this one does not stress the ingratitude of Clitus but that of Alexander. Of course, Arrian also included this anecdote in order to praise Alexander for the regret he showed towards his misdeeds (4.9.6). On the other hand, the striking antithesis between this example and the preceding ones is one more way through which the pivotal digression of ch. 4.8–14 marks the deterioration of Alexander’s character.65

 65 One last sample of this pattern is worth mentioning, as it combines both an analepsis and a prolepsis. I mean the anachronies in ch. 1.5.4–5 on Langarus, king of the Agrianians. In this episode, Alexander has entered the land of the Paeonians. While it is rumored that the Autariates were planning to attack him in order to prevent him from moving further, Langarus approaches Alexander, reassuring him that he will invade the land of the Autariates, so that they will be occupied with their own affairs and will cause him no trouble. Alexander approves of Langarus’ proposal and the plan is eventually successful. Arrian introduces Langarus in an analepsis by referring to his faith in Alexander again from the era of Philip, while he closes this short story with the honors Langarus received from Alexander and with a prolepsis on Langarus’ death, which is impossible to date. Although the Agrianians had a central role in the Macedonian army and appear countless times throughout the Anabasis (Brunt 1976, lxix–lxxxii; HCA I, 55, 72, 66, 119, 209–213, 299, 302, 307, 344, 352; HCA II, 165, 168, 187, 195, 279, 330), this short episode is not to be taken as focusing on them but on Alexander. This is the only information Arrian offers us about them and their kings. This material is offered anachronically and emphasizes again Alexander’s relationship with the subdued officials of his empire and the gratitude with which he rewarded those who remained loyal to him.

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. The two pivotal analepses: the Macedonians’ opposition towards Alexander’s decisions Arrian’s goal in the Anabasis is to offer an idealized picture of sincere cooperation of monarch and his men. Apart from the aforementioned analepses that stress Alexander’s faith in traitors, there is also several other information that embellishes Alexander’s relationship with the Macedonians. On his part, Alexander exhibits great concern about his men’s safety and opinion.66 He develops relations of friendship with many of them67 and discusses with them his military plans, asking their opinion and disagreeing with them not in a despotic fashion but by explaining to them his view and offering his arguments.68 In battle he encourages them69 and honors the fallen,70 while he praises and rewards those who achieved admirable feats of virtue in the battlefield.71 During challenging tasks, he is willing to participate in their labors and hardships,72 while he hastens to be in the frontline of the battle.73 Last but not least, he actively expresses his gratitude to those who accomplished his orders obediently and with success.74 He sends those who have recently been married back to Macedonia to spend some time with their families and receives in return his men’s love.75 He forgives the debts of those who have not administered their payments wisely and spends immense amounts of money for the organization of his officers’ weddings with Asian brides.76 On their part, the Macedonians applaud their king’s exhortations and are ready to face every enemy on his command.77 They also get furious when Alexander is injured and are ready to sacrifice their lives for him.78 However, with all his manifest intent to idealize Alexander’s relationship with his troops, Arrian had to deal with the two most significant reasons of the Macedonians’ opposition to Alexander: (a) his persistent desire to continue the

 66 4.6.3; 6.23ff. Cf. Chapter II, pp. 117–118. 67 2.4.7–11; 3.26.1; 6.2.1; 6.13.4–5; 7.12.3; 7.14.1–15.1; 7.29.4. 68 1.13.1–7; 1.18.6–9; 2.17.1–4; 3.1.5–2.2; 3.9.4; 3.18.11–12. 69 2.7.3–9; 3.9.5–8. 70 1.16.5; 2.12.1. 71 2.12.1. 72 See the analysis above of the Gedrosian account. 73 On this, see next chapter, p. 170. 74 6.28.4. 75 1.24.1–2. 76 7.4.4–5.6. 77 2.7.9; 3.10.1. 78 6.9–11.

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expedition, and (b) his choice to use the Persians as an integral ingredient of his empire through their being placed in military and administrational posts as well as through the adoption of Anatolian customs. As we have demonstrated so far, one of the means by which Arrian embellishes Alexander’s affairs with his men concerning these two issues is the concealment of information. These themes are only addressed at a few points of the account. The Macedonians’ disaffection with the intrusion of Asiatic elements into the Empire is discussed only in ch. 4.7–14 and in the flashbacks analyzed below. Their unwillingness to follow Alexander eastwards lies even more deeply in the background, as it is mentioned only once, in the Hyphasis episode. The two main reasons of the crisis in the relationship between leader and the masses are concealed throughout the work. They are only used as markers of crucial moments of the expedition: its end and the mutiny at Opis. Let us begin with the first of these anachronies, the one found in the account of the Macedonians’ unwillingness to move beyond the Hyphasis. While Alexander was champing at the bit to conquer the peoples beyond the river, his men expressed their reluctance to end up in new difficulties. Although he attempted through a speech to convince them to follow him, they remained untouched by his exhortations, choosing a different course to their choice on previous occasions. At this point, Coenus decides to speak not on behalf of the aristocrats but on behalf of the army. He advises Alexander to start the return journey and to dismiss his men. According to Coenus, the wisest thing for Alexander would be to base his plans about future enterprises on a refreshed army. Coenus supports his view by delineating the bad present state of the army in the following analepsis (5.27.4–7): ὅσῳ γάρ τοι πλεῖστα καὶ μέγιστα σοί τε ἡγουμένῳ καταπέπρακται καὶ τοῖς ἅμα σοὶ οἴκοθεν ὁρμηθεῖσι, τοσῷδε μᾶλλόν τι ξύμφορόν μοι δοκεῖ πέρας τι ἐπιθεῖναι τοῖς πόνοις καὶ κινδύνοις. αὐτὸς γάρ τοι ὁρᾷς, ὅσοι μὲν Μακεδόνων τε καὶ Ἑλλήνων ἅμα σοὶ ὡρμήθημεν, ὅσοι δὲ ὑπολελείμμεθα· ὧν Θετταλοὺς μὲν ἀπὸ Βάκτρων εὐθὺς οὐ προθύμους ἔτι ἐς τοὺς πόνους αἰσθόμενος οἴκαδε, καλῶς ποιῶν, ἀπέπεμψας· τῶν δὲ ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων οἱ μὲν ἐν ταῖς πόλεσι ταῖς πρὸς σοῦ οἰκισθείσαις κατῳκισμένοι οὐδὲ οὗτοι πάντῃ ἑκόντες μένουσιν· οἱ δὲ ξυμπονοῦντές τε ἔτι καὶ ξυγκινδυνεύοντες, αὐτοί τε καὶ ἡ Μακεδονικὴ στρατιά, τοὺς μὲν ἐν ταῖς μάχαις ἀπολωλέκασιν, οἱ δὲ ἐκ τραυμάτων ἀπόμαχοι γεγενημένοι ἄλλοι ἄλλῃ τῆς Ἀσίας ὑπολελειμμένοι εἰσίν, οἱ πλείους δὲ νόσῳ ἀπολώλασιν, ὀλίγοι δὲ ἐκ πολλῶν ὑπολείπονται, καὶ οὔτε τοῖς σώμασιν ἔτι ὡσαύτως ἐρρωμένοι, ταῖς τε γνώμαις πολὺ ἔτι μᾶλλον προκεκμηκότες. καὶ τούτοις ξύμπασιν πόθος μὲν γονέων ἐστίν, ὅσοις ἔτι σώζονται, πόθος δὲ γυναικῶν καὶ παίδων, πόθος δὲ δὴ τῆς γῆς αὐτῆς τῆς οἰκείας, ἣν ξὺν τῷ ἐκ σοῦ πορισθέντι σφίσιν κόσμῳ μεγάλοι τε ἀντὶ μικρῶν καὶ πλούσιοι ἐκ πενήτων ἀναστρέφοντες ξύγγνωστοί εἰσιν ἐπιδεῖν ποθοῦντες. σὺ δὲ νῦν μὴ ἄγειν ἄκοντας· οὐδὲ γὰρ ὁμοίοις ἔτι χρήσῃ ἐς τοὺς κινδύνους, οἷς τὸ ἑκούσιον ἐν τοῖς ἀγῶσιν ἀπέσται·

158  Atemporality and Characterization The successes achieved by you as our leader and by those who set out with you from our homes have been so numerous and splendid that for that very reason I think it more in our interest to set some limit to exertions and dangers. Surely you see yourself how many Macedonians and Greeks we were when we set forth with you, and how many survive. The Thessalians you sent straight home from Bactria, observing that they had little heart left for further exertions, and you were right. As for the other Greeks, some have been settled in the cities you have founded, and even they do not remain there entirely of their own free will; others are still sharing in your exertions and dangers, but they and the Macedonian forces have lost part of their number in battle; others have been invalided from wounds, and have been left behind in different parts of Asia; but most have died of sickness, and of all that host few survive, and even they no longer enjoy their bodily strength, while their spirit is far more wearied out. One and all, they long to see their parents, if they are still alive, their wives and children, and indeed their homeland, which they may pardonably long to look on once more, for with the honor of the provision you have made for them, they will return great and wealthy, instead of being humble and poor. It is not for you now to be a leader of unwilling troops. For you will no longer find men meeting dangers as they once did, when it is not by their own choice that they engage in conflicts.

Through this retrospective valuation of the expedition, Coenus reveals for the first time to the reader how the soldiers themselves saw their eight-year adventurous march from Macedonia to India. From the very beginning, he makes it clear to Alexander that “I shall speak not on behalf of those here present among us, who are held in honor beyond the rest and have mostly already received the prizes of our exertions, and, in virtue of our eminence in comparison with the rest, are zealous to serve you in every way, but on behalf of the majority of the army” (5.27.2). In this way, events that have so far been presented from Alexander’s ambitious gaze or through Arrian’s commendatory rhetoric are now debunked through the perspective of the fatigued troops. Let us begin with the foundation of cities. Throughout the work, when recording the establishment of a city, Arrian often informs us that it was inhabited by soldiers that were no more capable of fighting, natives, and forces that served as garrisons. In those reports, which mostly aim at stressing Alexander’s grandeur as a culture hero, the unwillingness of the soldiers left behind in those cities is never mentioned. However, we here for the first time learn – and Arrian, strikingly, does not dispute Coenus’ claim – that many of them remained there against their own will. The discrepancy between Arrian’s regular laudatory reports of the newly established cities and Coenus’ retrospective negative comment reflects Arrian’s unwillingness throughout the Anabasis to approach Alexander’s choices from multiple, conflicting points of view. The same conclusion emerges from the contrast between Coenus’ revelation that many men have died of diseases and Arrian’s silence on the matter in

The two pivotal analepses  159

the rest of the Anabasis. The rare mentions of the ill men hardly suffice to convey the impression that we have here of an army wearied and decimated by illnesses. Equally incompatible are Coenus’ analeptic mention of the dismissal of the Thessalian forces and Arrian’s report of the same event in Book III. In ch. 3.29.5, we were informed that: πρὶν δὲ διαβαίνειν τὸν ποταμὸν τῶν τε Μακεδόνων ἐπιλέξας τοὺς πρεσβυτάτους καὶ ἤδη ἀπολέμους καὶ τῶν Θεσσαλῶν τοὺς ἐθελοντὰς καταμείναντας ἐπ’ οἴκου ἀπέστειλεν. Before crossing the river [i.e. the Oxus] Alexander selected from the Macedonians the oldest men who were no longer fit for service and the Thessalian volunteers who had remained behind and sent them on their way home.

Nowhere can we discern that Alexander sent the Thessalians back home because he apprehended that they were unwilling to continue the march. On the contrary, what is stressed here is their willingness (ἐθελοντάς) to follow him even after their compatriots’ dismissal (3.19.5). The picture we are given from Arrian in ch. 3.29.5 is that of a generous and understanding king who rewards his men for their service despite their eagerness to follow him. Coenus’ view is totally inverted: it was the Thessalians who led Alexander to the decision to dismiss them. The discrepancy between ch. 3.29.5 and ch. 5.27.5 strengthens even further the view we have supported so far: Arrian deliberately remains silent about the troops’ unwillingness in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 in order to touch upon it in the last books. The same technique is exploited in the analysis of the Macedonians’ indignation towards Alexander’s use of the Asiatic aristocracy and customs in ch. 7.6 and the account of the mutiny at Opis (7.8.2–3). Let us see the first one: ἧκον δὲ αὐτῷ καὶ οἱ σατράπαι οἱ ἐκ τῶν πόλεών τε τῶν νεοκτίστων καὶ τῆς ἄλλης γῆς τῆς δοριαλώτου παῖδας ἡβάσκοντας ἤδη ἐς τρισμυρίους ἄγοντες τὴν αὐτὴν ἡλικίαν γεγονότας, οὓς Ἐπιγόνους ἐκάλει Ἀλέξανδρος, κεκοσμημένους Μακεδονικοῖς ὅπλοις καὶ τὰ πολέμια ἐς τὸν τρόπον τὸν Μακεδονικὸν ἠσκημένους. καὶ οὗτοι ἀφικόμενοι λέγονται ἀνιᾶσαι Μακεδόνας, ὡς πάντα δὴ μηχανωμένου Ἀλεξάνδρου ὑπὲρ τοῦ μηκέτι ὡσαύτως δεῖσθαι Μακεδόνων· εἶναι γὰρ οὖν καὶ Μηδικὴν τὴν Ἀλεξάνδρου στολὴν ἄλγος οὐ σμικρὸν Μακεδόσιν ὁρωμένην καὶ τοὺς γάμους ἐν τῷ νόμῳ τῷ Περσικῷ ποιηθέντας οὐ πρὸς θυμοῦ γενέσθαι τοῖς πολλοῖς αὐτῶν, οὐδὲ τῶν γημάντων ἔστιν οἷς, καίτοι τῇ ἰσότητι τῇ ἐς τὸν βασιλέα μεγάλως τετιμημένοις. Πευκέστας τε ὁ Περσῶν σατράπης τῇ τε σκευῇ καὶ τῇ φωνῇ περσίζων ἐλύπει αὐτούς, ὅτι τῷ βαρβαρισμῷ αὐτοῦ ἔχαιρεν Ἀλέξανδρος, καὶ οἱ Βακτρίων δὲ καὶ οἱ Σογδιανῶν καὶ Ἀραχωτῶν ἱππεῖς καὶ Ζαραγγῶν δὲ καὶ Ἀρείων καὶ Παρθυαίων καὶ ἐκ Περσῶν οἱ Εὐάκαι καλούμενοι ἱππεῖς καταλοχισθέντες εἰς τὴν ἵππον τὴν ἑταιρικὴν ὅσοι αὐτῶν κατ’ ἀξίωσιν καὶ κάλλει τοῦ σώματος ἢ τῇ ἄλλῃ ἀρετῇ ὑπερφέροντες ἐφαίνοντο, καὶ πέμπτη ἐπὶ τούτοις ἱππαρχία προσγενομένη, οὐ βαρβαρικὴ ἡ πᾶσα, ἀλλὰ ἐπαυξηθέντος γὰρ τοῦ παντὸς ἱππικοῦ κατελέγησαν ἐς αὐτὸ τῶν βαρβάρων, τῷ τε ἀγήματι προσκαταλεγέντες

160  Atemporality and Characterization Κωφής τε ὁ Ἀρταβάζου καὶ Ὑδάρνης καὶ Ἀρτιβόλης οἱ Μαζαίου, καὶ Σισίνης καὶ Φραδασμένης [καὶ] οἱ Φραταφέρνου τοῦ Παρθυαίων καὶ Ὑρκανίας σατράπου παῖδες, καὶ Ἰτάνης Ὀξυάρτου μὲν παῖς, Ῥωξάνης δὲ τῆς γυναικὸς Ἀλεξάνδρου ἀδελφός, καὶ Αἰγοβάρης καὶ ὁ τούτου ἀδελφὸς Μιθροβαῖος, καὶ ἡγεμὼν ἐπὶ τούτοις ἐπισταθεὶς Ὑστάσπης ὁ Βάκτριος, καὶ τούτοις δόρατα Μακεδονικὰ ἀντὶ τῶν βαρβαρικῶν μεσαγκύλων δοθέντα, —ταῦτα πάντα ἐλύπει τοὺς Μακεδόνας, ὡς πάντῃ δὴ βαρβαρίζοντος τῇ γνώμῃ Ἀλεξάνδρου, τὰ δὲ Μακεδονικὰ νόμιμά τε καὶ αὐτοὺς Μακεδόνας ἐν ἀτίμῳ χώρᾳ ἄγοντος. He was also joined by the satraps from the new cities he had founded, and the other land he had conquered, bringing about thirty thousand boys now growing up, all of the same age, whom Alexander called Epigoni (Successors), dressed in Macedonian dress and trained to warfare in the Macedonian style. It is said that their arrival aggrieved the Macedonians, as if Alexander was actually contriving every means of reducing his dependence on Macedonians in future, that in fact they were greatly pained to see Alexander wearing the Median dress, while the marriages celebrated in the Persian style did not correspond to the desires of most of them, including even some of the bridegrooms, despite the great honor of being raised to equality with the king. They were also aggrieved at the adoption by Peucestas, satrap of Persia, of the Persian apparel and language because Alexander approved of him going barbarian; at the incorporation of the Barctrian, Sogdianian, Arachotian, Zarangian, Areian and Parthyaean cavalrymen and of the Persian troopers called Euacae in the Companion cavalry, in so far as they seemed to be specially distinguished by rank, physical beauty or any other good quality; at the addition to these of a fifth hipparchy, though it was not entirely barbarian, but when the whole cavalry force had been augmented, barbarians had been enrolled for the purpose; at the further enrolment in the agema of Cophen, son of Artabazus, Hydarnes and Artiboles, sons of Phrataphernes, satrap of Parthyaea and Hyrcania, Itanes, son of Oxyartes and brother of Alexander’s wife, Rhoxane, and Aegobares and his brother, Mithrobaeus, at the appointment of Hystaspes the Bactrian as their commander, and at the issue to them of Macedonian lances in place of barbarian thronged javelins. All this aggrieved the Macedonians, as they thought that Alexander was going utterly barbarian at heart, and treating Macedonian customs and Macedonians themselves without respect.

Once again, Arrian touches upon issues and events that go back at a period long before the point at which they are narrated. These flashbacks (5.27.4–7; 7.6; 7.8.2–3) do not aim to stress Alexander’s indifference for his men. On the contrary, in the episodes of the Hyphasis and Opis, although he initially becomes angry with the Macedonians, Alexander eventually complies with their requests. Nor does Arrian offer the slightest hint of an imminent mutiny;79 these are rather two romantic episodes, each of which ends with

 79 For Arrian’s embellishing narrative of the army’s opposition on the banks of the Hyphasis, see HCA II, 337–356; AAA II, 506–515. On the romantic elements in the presentation of the mutiny at Opis, see AAA II, 607 with further bibliography.

Conclusion  161

the reconciliation of Alexander with his men. In the Hyphasis episode, the Macedonians, upon hearing that Alexander decided to return to Babylon, burst into tears and praise him for respecting their wish (5.29.1–3). Similarly, the crisis at Opis ends with Alexander and the Macedonians, full of tears, hugging and kissing each other (7.11.5–7). The two flashbacks on the Macedonians’ dissatisfaction mostly stress the critical dimension of these two historical moments in the expedition. After all, as explained above, throughout the work Arrian is constantly endeavoring to idealize Alexander’s relationship with his men.

. Conclusion In this chapter we elaborated on ways that the disruption of the linear narrative flow contributes to the delineation of Alexander’s portrait in the Anabasis. We demonstrated that Arrian systematically used certain categories of anachronies and rendered them as basic tools of emphasis of Alexander’s features. We focused on five types of anachronies, all of which illuminate the way that Arrian developed his characterization of Alexander. In particular, the atemporal collections of anecdotes are marked by their rarity and functional typicality, which suggests how carefully Arrian worked on the numerous anecdotes on Alexander’s life that he found in his sources. The close reading of the narratives by species constitutes an open window to the historian’s craft. This is also the case with the flashbacks in the treason episodes. The analepses on Alexander the Lyncestian, Harpalus, and Amyntas compel us to speculate the way Arrian must have incorporated into his account stories that he found in accounts of Philip’s reign. Arrian must have found these anachronies in the accounts of Alexander’s expedition. On the other hand, however, his choice to compose a work on Alexander’s successors suggests, if anything, that Arrian was interested not only in Alexander but also in the events following his death. One then wonders if Arrian had read works on the Macedonian history before Alexander as well. If he did so – and that is very plausible – the flashbacks on Alexander’s relationships with those individuals during his father’s reign can be seen as indications of Arrian’s choice to include stories about those years in his account of the expedition in Asia. Finally yet what is of equal importance, a great number of the anachronies examined in this chapter reveals that the element of atemporality represents the basis upon which Arrian chose to delineate Alexander’s relationship with his men. The analepses in the treason episodes distract the reader from the tension between the king and his intimates in the present, in that they draw her attention to the element of trust in their relationships in the past. Furthermore, the

162  Atemporality and Characterization anachronies analyzed in the digression of ch. 4.8–14, the Philotas episode, and the narratives of Hyphasis and Opis are further strong pieces of evidence that throughout his work – especially in Books I–III – Arrian deliberately conceals the problems that emerged in Alexander’s affairs with his men during the expedition.

 Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero In the Second Preface, Arrian shares with the reader his wish to praise Alexander in the same way that Homer did Achilles (1.12.1–5). Of course, it does not number among Arrian’s most innovative historiographical ploys to initiate a dialogue with Homer in the opening chapters of the Anabasis; the introductory statement of a historian that the aim of his oeuvre, just like that of the Homeric epics, is to preserve the memory of extraordinary deeds (κλέος) originates from the very beginning of ancient historiography. As a motif it reflects the aspect of self-definition of the ancient historians as continuers of Homer, in terms of the goal they serve by narrating the past.1 Still, the Second Preface of the Anabasis of Alexander is much more than this, because it is one of the few cases in classical historiography where a historian compares himself with Homer in such an overt way.2 In essence, Arrian reveals his aspiration to become Alexander’s Homer. One might argue that this statement is of no particular significance for the interpretation of the Anabasis, and that Arrian is here merely using a rhetorical trope in order to introduce his work in a shining light.3 Identifying or relating oneself with an author from the prestigious past was indeed common practice in the circles of the Second Sophistic.4 This was one of the many ways by which the Greek intellectuals of the Imperial era exhibited their literary qualities and stressed their national identity in a Roman environment. Arrian, who repeatedly employed this method by calling himself ‘the new Xenophon’, was no exception to this rule.5 Had Arrian associated himself with Homer in any other part of the Anabasis, to compare this statement only with the rhetorical topoi of the Second Sophistic would perhaps suffice to interpret it. However, precisely because Arrian’s announcement of direct comparison with Homer lies in the preface, it should also be examined against the backdrop of the historiographical tradition that Arrian

 1 Strasburger 1972, 12–14; Hornblower 1994, 7–8; Rengakos 2006a, 183. 2 If only to judge from the surviving corpus of classical historical works. For further parallels, see Marincola’s (1989, 188) excellent paper on Arrian’s Second Preface. 3 Burliga 2013, 106. 4 Cf. further generally Whitmarsh 2001; Whitmarsh 2005, 17 n. 49, 85, 267. Cf. also for instance Aelius Aristides’ confession of his dream that he was Demosthenes (Or. 47.16, ed. Behr); Philostr. VS 1.487 on Dio Chrysostom’s emulation of Demosthenes and Plato; Philostratus’ praise of Aeschines throughout his VS. 5 Cyn. 1.4; 3.5.2; 16.7.2; 21.2.2; Peripl. M. Eux. 12.5; 25.1. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-005

164  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero undoubtedly follows here.6 For ancient historians the prefatory parts of their works served not only as rhetorical openings but also as a disclosure of their methodology in history-writing and data-collecting. More importantly, they served as an introduction to those interpretive principles that play an active role in the narrative arrangement of their works.7 Both of Arrian’s prologues conform to this norm. The distinction in the First Preface between his two principal sources and the sources which are to him of minor importance recurs constantly throughout the work. Further general themes lie in the Second Preface, such as the negative effects of flattery on a king’s judgment,8 or Alexander’s love of friendship9 and his pursuit of glory.10 By the same token, then, one wonders whether Arrian’s prefatory statement that he intends to become Alexander’s Homer transcends the limits of an instantaneous rhetorical effort to impress, and indicates too a general principle of his work. In other words, can the Second Preface be seen as a meta-stylistic pre-announcement to the reader that his work will carry an intense epic coloring? To my mind we can certainly answer this question in the affirmative. By stating at the outset that he aspires to be Alexander’s Homer, Arrian essentially reveals to his readers that he will continue a basic feature of the earlier historiographical tradition relating to the Macedonian king, namely the Homeric influence that imbues his earlier representation. Alexander’s admirers in antiquity, and especially those who were acquainted with the literature about him, were accustomed to reading epic accounts of his life and feats. Alexander’s apparent love for the Iliad and the parallelism between him and Homeric heroes, mostly Achilles, were common topoi in historical and biographical accounts.11 Alexander’s first historians embraced and nurtured his admiration for the Homeric world, for instance by glorifying his bravery in heroic battle descriptions and by using epic language. In this

 6 For the view that Arrian builds his prefaces after the classical practice of Herodotus and Thucydides, see Stadter 1981, 158ff. 7 Herodotus’ opening chapters introduce key ideas of his account, such as monarchical arrogance, the animosity between East and West, and the unpredictability of human life (Stadter 1981, 158). Similarly, by programmatically discussing the unchangeable character of human nature (1.22.4), Thucydides implicitly prepares his readers for the presence of certain patterns in his narrative, which aim to resemble the regularity of historical development (Liotsakis 2017, 14 n. 47 with further bibliography). 8 2.6.4; 4.8.3; 4.9.7–11.9; 7.29.1. 9 E.g. 1.12.1; 3.27.1; 7.4.7; 7.12.3; 7.14; 7.29.4. 10 E.g. 2.27.2; 3.3.2; 6.9.5; 6.13.4; 7.14.5. 11 See Introduction, pp. 11–13.

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way, they rendered their works as the ‘new Iliads’ of Neoptolemus’ and Andromache’s descendant. By confessing from the outset his wish to compose his own ‘epic’ for Alexander, Arrian creates for a readership familiar with this Homeric coloring of Alexander-related literature the expectation that his work will have an intense laudatory character, as well as that it will be equal to its sources in too being steeped with the same Homeric brush. Modern scholarship has paid no especial attention to the Homeric nature of Arrian’s Anabasis. Sporadic mention is made to Alexander’s emulation of Achilles and generally to his love for a range of Homeric ideals,12 but there has been no systematic collection and categorization of all the material carrying (a) heroic content and (b) epic language. In this chapter, therefore, we will attempt to offer a cohesive and overarching view of the way in which Arrian allowed the Homeric world to enter his narrative. Our analysis will be mainly stylistic. First, we will present some general heroic motifs of the work reflecting the Macedonian admiration of heroic ideals. Then we will examine seven passages, in which the Homeric character of this heroic world emerges from identifiably epic loans on the level of both language and content. It will be argued that Arrian paid particular attention to the elaboration of the Homeric style at pivotal points in his account. These are: (1) the route to Troy and the Second Preface; (2) the battle of the Granicus; (3) the battles of Issus and (4) Gaugamela; (5) the battle of the Hydaspes; (6) Alexander’s injury in the battle with the Malli; (7) and Hephaestion’s death. In the last part of the chapter, we will present the criteria by which Arrian seems to have included or excluded certain kinds of Homeric influence. In this section, we will examine inter alia whether Arrian’s switch from Book IV onwards towards a more critical presentation of Alexander affected at all the epic flavor of the last books. Given that a Homeric flavor in the histories of Alexander, including Arrian’s Anabasis, mostly seems intended to perform a laudatory function, it will be interesting to see how and whether Arrian manages to incorporate glorifying epic shades in a partly censorious narrative. Another central thesis of this chapter is that Arrian’s aim in the Anabasis is not to identify Alexander exclusively with Achilles. Of course, some of the prevalent Homeric themes in the work do indeed stem from Alexander’s emulation of Achilles. Arrian is aware of this, as he admits in his narration of the king’s mourning for Hephaestion’s death (7.14.4): “I regard it as not unlikely that Alexander cut off his hair over the corpse, especially considering his emulation of Achilles,  12 E.g. Stadter 1980, 65, 74–75, 103, 112; HCA I, 20–21, 103–104, 221; Stewart 1993, 83–84; HCA II, 64, 84, 162–163, 202, 350, 354; AAA I, 615; Muckensturm-Poulle 2010, 277–279; Burliga’s (2013) Chapter V.

166  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero with whom he had a rivalry from boyhood.” Such traditional themes include Alexander’s respect for friendship,13 his desire for posthumous fame, and his pursuit of a glorious death. However, Alexander’s Homeric persona in Arrian’s account emerges as rather an amalgam of multiple epic heroes. First, as will be explained, Arrian abandoned the practice of Alexander’s first historians to present the campaign in Asia as a déjà-vu of Achilles’ conquest of Troy and its allies. Second, the explicit Homeric allusions pertaining to Alexander echo verses which refer not only to Achilles’ but also to Hector’s conduct. This choice does not surprise us, given Alexander’s traditional association with the former and the similarly central role of the latter in the Iliad. Last but not least, Alexander’s general heroic portraiture is built upon elements (such as courage, physical excellence, splendor of armor, pursuit of glory and preeminence) that are ultimately shared by most of the Homeric warriors.

. Heroic patterns: the Macedonian code of honor Apart from the clear-cut Homeric allusions, the Anabasis is also filled with some more general heroic topoi, which create no immediate comparison between Alexander and Achilles or any other Homeric hero. They rather shape a heroic framework, within which not only Alexander but also the Macedonians and even a few of the non-Greeks are seen to operate. These patterns include: (a) a focus on individuals in the battle descriptions; (b) the close association between virtue and death in battle; (c) the pursuit of preeminence; and (d) the use of the phrases ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς / οὐδ’ ὥς / καὶ ὥς. Excepting the lattermost of these, the rest of these elements additionally constitute shared features of classical historiography, which is why they should not be associated exclusively with the traditional Iliadic image of Alexander. Arrian must have already been familiar with these heroic topoi from his readings of histories unrelated to Alexander the Great. Nonetheless, the intensely heroic flavor of the Anabasis created by these elements should also be seen as a mirror of the heroic ideals of the Macedonian royal family and aristocracy in the Classical and Hellenistic Eras. This cultural atmosphere nurtured Alexander’s emulation of the Homeric heroes and was consciously preserved by Arrian’s primary sources, which were Alexander’s first historians.

 13 On Achilles’ respect for friendship and his relationship with Patroclus, see as but a selection of items: Clarke 1978; Sinos 1980; Barrett 1981; Miller 1986; Hooker 1989.

Heroic patterns: the Macedonian code of honor  167

Alexander’s self-fashioning in compliance with the Homeric ideals has its roots in his admiration for epic heroes during his youth, an admiration that was implanted in his soul, according to the tradition, by his teachers Lysimachus and Aristotle.14 However, as an adult, and most importantly as a king, Alexander had command of his own Homeric iconography, not least because he was confident that a heroic image would be particularly attractive to the Macedonians. While the prevalence of democracy and oligarchy in the fourth-century city states of southern Greece indicates a repudiation of pre-Classical political constructs, the hereditary monarchy and aristocracy in Macedonia still resembled in many respects the political world described in the epics, which is also evident in the Macedonian material culture of that era. To mention only one example, the hunt mosaics from Pella have occasionally been seen as efforts to depict the Homeric scene of the hunting of the lion in Il. 20.167–173. Even though such specific associations are difficult to prove, critics are right to note that such archaeological finds bring us closer to the Macedonian aristocracy’s appreciation of epic ideals, such as the warrior’s preeminence in battle and hunting.15 In pursuing constantly the confirmation of their Greek identity and in having the epics as the basis of their education, the Macedonian royal family and nobles loved to create strong associations between themselves and the Greek heroes, including, of course, those of the original Homeric figures.16 It is this heroic ideal which the Athenian captive Demades took advantage of after the battle of Chaeronea (338 BCE), when he scorned Philip, Alexander’s father, for his love for excessive drinking (F48 Marzi/Feraboli): “My king, are you not ashamed of doing Thersites’ deeds although fortune has dressed you with Agamemnon’s image?” The Macedonians’ self-identification with the Homeric heroes pertains especially to the military nature of their community. Philip’s and Alexander’s Companions must have found many things in common with Achilles’ Myrmidons. Even the way in which the shields were attached to the arms of the Macedonian hoplites is reminiscent of the epic descriptions of shields. These similarities have occasionally been taken as signs that Philip was inspired by the Iliad in his innovations in the Macedonian phalanx.17 Again, such suggested associations, although hard to  14 See Introduction, pp. 11–12. 15 For the political resemblances between the epic world and the Macedonian monarchy, see Cohen 1995, 487 and n. 37 with further bibliography. For the affinities of the Macedonian material culture with the Mycenaean one, see Cohen’s (1995) essay (passim). 16 Cf. Cohen 1995, 484. 17 Cf. Cohen 1995, 488 and n. 38 with further bibliography of the similarities between Alexander’s Companions and those of Achilles; also Lendon 2005, both on the Companions and the hoplites of the Macedonian army and its links to Homeric warfare.

168  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero support, in any case show that Alexander’s comparison with Achilles addressed a military community that shared with him the same admiration for the Homeric values. This habit of heroic idealization sparked the quarrel between the two soldiers close to the walls of Halicarnassus, said to have nearly brought about the capture of the city (1.21.1–4). Similarly, King Ptolemy I Soter, reminiscing in old age about his own moments of virtue in the enterprise, composed heroic episodes not only for Alexander but also for himself, as is testified by the account of his single combat with the Indian leader (4.24.3–5 = FGrH 138 F18).18 Alexander’s emulation of the Homeric heroes was thus hardly incongruous with the society in which it was nurtured; on the contrary, it arose from “shared communal ideals” of the Macedonian royal family and aristocracy. 19 It is exactly this communal nature of Alexander’s love for the epic world that is mirrored by the heroic patterns of the Anabasis. For this reason, these patterns should not be examined separately from the clear-cut Homeric allusions of the work. What is more, on an intra-textual level, the fact that they always come to a head through the use of epic language, as will be demonstrated, is the strongest proof that for Arrian these heroic topoi are inextricably interwoven with epic models. The patterns I have chosen to isolate and analyze are as follows: (a) The focus on individuals in the battle descriptions.20 Arrian often relates the injuries of specific persons, such as that of Perdiccas in the siege of Thebes (1.8.3), that of Hephaestion, Coenus, and Menidas in the battle of Gaugamela (3.15.2), or that of Alexander himself, Ptolemy, and Leonnatus (4.23.3). Sometimes, Arrian mentions even the profession of the fallen hero, such as Aristonicus the harpist. The contrast between Aristonicus’ occupation in his life during peace and his illfate during the war stimulates the reader’s compassion (4.16.7), as in the case of Scamandrius the “fine huntsman of beasts”,21 who was killed by Agamemnon

 18 On Ptolemy as Arrian’s source for this episode and on his intention to compose his own aristeia with a Homeric coloring, see HCA II, 161 with further bibliography; cf. AAA II, 440–441; Gilhaus 2017, 435. 19 Cohen 1995, 486. 20 This is a typical heroic pattern in classical historiography. On Herodotus, see Romilly 1956; Flower 1998, 375 (Herodotus and Ephorus); Flower/Marincola 2002, 29; Boedeker 2002, 108; Boedeker 2003, 21; Tritle 2006, 215–216, 223 n. 35; Gaida 1934, 22–25 (Dionysius of Halicarnassus). Generally see also Lendon 2005, 36–38, 66–67, 84–85, 96–97; Marincola 2011, 358–359. See also Whately 2016, 160–171 (Procopius), esp. 169–171; Lendon 2017, 45–54 (Polybius and others). 21 I follow throughout Lattimore’s (1951) translation of the Iliad.

Heroic patterns: the Macedonian code of honor  169

(Il. 5.48–51).22 In some instances, Arrian offers certain details about the injuries, including how and exactly where a man has been wounded. Last, as mentioned above, Arrian dedicates ch. 4.24.3–5 to Ptolemy’s aristeia. (b) Death and virtue. Another heroic pattern in the Anabasis is the close relationship between death and virtue. It is common knowledge that, while in the Odyssey glory lies in the hero’s ability to survive difficulties and to avoid death by coming up with clever ideas, in the Iliad glory is the prize and consolation for the fate of dying young.23 Accordingly, on ten out of eighteen occasions in the Anabasis when the epithet ἀγαθός is used to mark out individuals, it is attributed to the fallen.24 Examples such as those of Admetus (2.23.4–5; cf. 2.24.4) and Aristonicus (4.16.7) show that death is the main proof of a soldier’s virtue: ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς ἐν τῷ τότε ἐγένετο […] πρῶτος ἐπιβὰς τοῦ τείχους καὶ τοῖς ἀμφ’ αὑτὸν ἐγκελευόμενος ἐπιβαίνειν βληθεὶς λόγχῃ ἀποθνήσκει αὐτοῦ. (2.23.4–5) [He] showed his courage […] first on the wall, was wounded by a spear while calling on his men to mount, and died there.

and ἀποθνήσκει […] ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς γενόμενος. (4.16.7) He dies there […] with courage.25

 22 On this pattern in Homer, see Drerup 1921, 444–446; Severyns 1948, 133–140; Griffin 1976; Griffin 1980, 112ff.; de Jong 20042, 18. Οn Scamandrius’ obituary, see Griffin 1976, 169 and 1980, 114; De Jong 20042, 18. 23 See e.g. Edwards 1985, 43–69; Vernant 1996; McCoy 2013, 1. 24 Total: 1.14.6; 1.15.3; 2.7.9 twice; 2.10.2; 2.10.7; 2.23.4; 2.24.4; 3.27.3; 4.4.4; 4.11.5; 4.16.7; 4.27.3; 5.2.3; 5.19.1 twice; 5.19.3; 5.25.1. Cf. 6.7.6: ζῶντες δὲ δι’ ἀνδρίαν ὀλίγοι ἐλήφθησαν. 25 Cf. 4.4.4; 4.27.3. It goes without saying that death in battle in the Anabasis is not an immediate Homeric borrowing. This theme had already been consolidated as a topos in many genres, which could have influenced Arrian. As regards Arrian’s principal models from historiography, death in battle as a proof of one’s virtue is frequent in Herodotus’ military descriptions, while it occasionally appears in Thucydides and Xenophon too. For this pattern in historiography, see Hau 2016, 103–105 (Diodorus of Sicily) and 225–226 (Xenophon’s Hellenica). Especially on the links of the epithet ἀγαθός with death in battle, cf. Tyrt. 10.1–2; 12.10–20 (ed. West); Th. 2.35.1; 3.98.4. One should also have in mind the formulaic presence of the connection of virtue and death in panegyric speeches. On the other hand, in antiquity it was a common knowledge that this theme is a distinctive feature of the Homeric world as well. For example, the poets of sepulchral epigrams used the epic hexameter to describe death in battle, at least down to 575 BCE, because they drew the theme and the narrative techniques for its description from Homer (Bowie

170  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero In two examples, Arrian builds up a net of cross-references, in order to color this heroic value with further meanings. In two of the most significant battle accounts of the Anabasis, those of the Granicus and Issus, Alexander is presented before the main description as urging his men to demonstrate their virtue in the battlefield (1.14.6: ἐγκελευσάμενος ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς γίγνεσθαι // 2.10.2: παρεκάλει ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς γίγνεσθαι). When referring to the fallen of the two battles, Arrian writes with regard to the Granicus κατεκόπησαν πρὸς αὐτῶν, ἄνδρες ἀγαθοὶ γενόμενοι (1.15.3), and as for Issus, he says that πίπτει Πτολεμαῖός τε ὁ Σελεύκου, ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς γενόμενος (2.10.7). In these cases of ring composition, death in battle means not only bravery but also obedience to the king. (c) Pursuit of preeminence. Closely related to this heroic pattern is the eagerness of an individual (2.23.4–5; 2.24.4: Admetus; 2.27.6: Neoptolemus) or of the masses (2.27.6: the Macedonians) to fight in the front line.26 Alexander is also portrayed as being the first to cross a river during a battle, a technique which stresses his bravery (1.5.3; 1.6.7; 5.13.2; 6.7.5). He is also the first to enter cities or areas he conquers (1.11.7: Asia; 4.30.3: Heracles’ rock).27 (d) ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς / οὐδ’ ὥς / καὶ ὥς. Two injuries are also connected to a Homeric stylistic pattern, with the use of the phrases ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς / οὐδ’ ὥς / καὶ ὥς in accordance with the epic formula ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὥς and its variants καὶ ὥς / ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς.28 In ch. 3.30.11, Arrian describes the siege of Maracanda. Alexander, although he is injured, does not give up fighting. His wound is described in detail: καὶ ἄλλοι τε πολλοὶ τραυματίαι ἐγένοντο καὶ αὐτὸς Ἀλέξανδρος ἐς τὴν κνήμην τοξεύεται διαμπὰξ καὶ τῆς περόνης τι ἀποθραύεται αὐτῷ ἐκ τοῦ τοξεύματος. And a great many were wounded; notably, Alexander himself was shot right through the leg with an arrow, and a part of his fibula-bone was broken.

 2010). This subject should be seen as part of the epic coloring in the Anabasis, and Arrian must have followed in using it inter alia the military accounts found in the first histories of Alexander. 26 Cf. Il. 1.225ff.; 3.16; 3.31; 5.536; 6.125–126; 7.75; 8.256; 8.337; 9.709; 11.61; 11.217; 11.296; 13.270; 13.291. This value is encapsulated in the advice given to Glaucus by his father, αἰὲν ἀριστεύειν καὶ ὑπείροχον ἔμμεναι ἄλλων (“to be always among the bravest, and hold my head above others”) (Il. 6.208). 27 One may add to all these the formulaic phrase πόθος λαμβάνει (1.3.5; 2.3.1; 3.1.5; 3.3.1; 4.28.4; 5.2.5; 5.27.6; 7.1.1; 7.16.2). Cf. the epic element of ἔρως in Th. 3.45.5; 6.24.3 (Smith 1900, 73). 28 Given that the use of ὥς as οὕτως is rare in the surviving Attic prose and this Homeric phrase is also very frequent in Thucydides (Smith 1900, 76), the phrase could be an indirect Homeric loan through Thucydides. καὶ ὥς is not used in Herodotus.

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After this follows the phrase: ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἔλαβέ τε τὸ χωρίον, καὶ τῶν βαρβάρων οἱ μὲν αὐτοῦ κατεκόπησαν πρὸς τῶν Μακεδόνων […]. But even so he captured the position, and some of the barbarians were cut down there and then by the Macedonians […].

Similarly, during their eventual attack in the siege of Cyropolis, Alexander, Craterus, and other officers are injured (4.33). The description is again detailed carefully: καὶ βάλλεται λίθῳ αὐτὸς Ἀλέξανδρος βιαίως τήν τε κεφαλὴν καὶ τὸν αὐχένα καὶ Κρατερὸς τοξεύματι καὶ πολλοὶ ἄλλοι τῶν ἡγεμόνων. Alexander himself was struck violently with a stone on his head and neck, and Craterus was wounded by an arrow, as were many other officers.

with the same phrase following: ἀλλὰ καὶ ὣς ἐξέωσαν ἐκ τῆς ἀγορᾶς τοὺς βαρβάρους. None the less they cleared the market-place of the tribesmen.

In both examples, Arrian tries to stress Alexander’s and the Macedonians’ courage and endurance, by paying attention to the fact that, despite difficulties, they endured the pressure exerted by their enemies and defeated them. Judging from the content of these examples, the phrase ἀλλὰ καὶ ὥς may be seen as an imitation of the Homeric formula ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς ἀπέληγε μάχης in the scenes of Hector’s and Agamemnon’s injuries:29 Il. 7.260–265 Αἴας δ’ ἀσπίδα νύξεν ἐπάλμενος· ἣ δὲ διαπρὸ ἤλυθεν ἐγχείη, στυφέλιξε δέ μιν μεμαῶτα, τμήδην δ’ αὐχέν’ ἐπῆλθε, μέλαν δ’ ἀνεκήκιεν αἷμα, ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς ἀπέληγε μάχης κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ, ἀλλ’ ἀναχασσάμενος λίθον εἵλετο χειρὶ παχείῃ κείμενον ἐν πεδίῳ μέλανα τρηχύν τε μέγαν τε·

 29 On these two Homeric examples as stressing the strength and virtue of the wounded heroes, see Friedrich 1956, 31 and 87–92; Neal 2006, 52–53 and 95–96. On the use of wounds as a means of showing the endurance of a hero, see Friedrich 1956, 93; Salazar 2000, 146ff.; Neal 2006, 33– 36.

172  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Now Aias plunging upon him thrust at the shield, and the spearhead passed clean through, and pounded Hector back in his fury, and tore at his neck passing so that the dark blood broke. Yet even so Hector of the shining helmet did not stop fighting, but gave back and in his heavy hand caught up a stone that lay in the plain, black and rugged and huge. Il. 11.251–256 στῆ δ’ εὐρὰξ σὺν δουρὶ λαθὼν Ἀγαμέμνονα δῖον, νύξε δέ μιν κατὰ χεῖρα μέσην ἀγκῶνος ἔνερθε, ἀντικρὺ δὲ διέσχε φαεινοῦ δουρὸς ἀκωκή. ῥίγησέν τ’ ἄρ’ ἔπειτα ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων· ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς ἀπέληγε μάχης ἠδὲ πτολέμοιο, ἀλλ’ ἐπόρουσε Κόωνι ἔχων ἀνεμοτρεφὲς ἔγχος. He came from the side and unobserved at great Agamemnon and stabbed with his spear at the middle arm, underneath the elbow, and the head of the glittering spear cut its way clean through. Agamemnon the lord of men shuddered with fear then but even so did not give up the attack or his fighting but sprang on Koön, gripping a spear that struck with the wind’s speed.

The same phrase is also suggestive of Alexander’s persistence in his efforts to conquer cities (1.20.6; 3.13.4) or places (4.18.5; 4.21.3), as well as instances where he faces obstacles such as the resistance of the defenders or the anomaly of the landscape. In other cases, the formula reflects the endurance of the defenders (2.21.6; 4.26.5; cf. Il. 15.617). These patterns combine to create a heroic atmosphere that is pervasive throughout the Anabasis. It is telling that they appear with the same frequency also in those parts of the work where Arrian’s criticism over Alexander’s vanity is voiced more intensely. However, as we saw in the previous chapters, the coexistence of praise and criticism in the Anabasis should not be seen as a compositional paradox. Arrian’s respect for the military dexterities and ideals of Alexander and his Macedonians remains unabated even when he disagrees with Alexander’s motives. For Arrian, Alexander, although occasionally demonstrating arrogant and immoderate behaviors, was always a brave, romantic and competent military leader, a paragon of the Macedonian heroic temperament.

. Alexander at Troy and Arrian’s Second Preface In this heroic framework, there are seven instances where Arrian transcends the limits of these patterns and foregrounds the Homeric world by means of carefully

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elaborated verbal and narrative constructions. In the following pages of this chapter, we will focus on these cases. The first of them is the account of Alexander’s visit to Troy, culminating in the Second Preface of the work. The Anabasis begins with the First Preface, where Arrian introduces the reader to the sources of his work. After this, Arrian offers a short account of Alexander’s campaigns in Thrace and Macedonia against the Triballi and the Illyrians, a narrative that ends with the destruction of Thebes (1.1–10). There follows the route to Troy (1.11.1–12.5), a pivotal unit which leads to the Second Preface. These chapters constitute the transition and the introduction to the main subject of the work, Alexander’s campaign in Asia.30 Τhey describe the itinerary of Alexander and his army from Macedonia to Troy, as well as the rituals Alexander performed in both places. The intense focus on the king’s piety reflects the significance of the moment (the campaign begins!) and portrays Alexander in encomiastic fashion as the pious ruler, thereby foreshadowing the divine favor he will enjoy during his conquests, as well as the success of his campaign. The plot now unfolds in the following way. Alexander returns to Macedonia, offers the traditional sacrifice to Olympian Zeus and celebrates the Olympian games of Aegae. Many say that he also organized games in honor of the Muses. In this period, the announcement came that the statue of Orpheus, son of Oeagrus the Thracian, in Pieria was sweating continuously. Aristander, Alexander’s favorite soothsayer, advised him not to worry, arguing that the sweating of the god’s statue was a favorable sign; it meant that in the future the poets would labor in order to write about Alexander and his exploits. The following spring, Alexander gathers his forces at Amphipolis and after twenty days of marching he arrives at Sestus. He orders Parmenio to transfer the army to Abydus, while he embarks upon the route to Troy; he first visits Elaeus, where he offers a sacrifice at Protesilaus’ tomb. He then sails to the Achaean harbor and in the middle of the Hellespont he sacrifices a bull to Poseidon and the Nereids, pouring the libation from a golden bowl into the sea.31 After building altars in several places in Asia in honor of Zeus of Safe Landings, Athena, and Heracles, he arrives at Troy. He makes a sacrifice to the Trojan Athena and exchanges his armor with ancient weaponry from the Trojan War. He sacrifices to Priam at  30 For analysis along similar lines, cf. Kornemann 1935, 31; Moles 1985, 167; Marincola 1989, 188; Vox 2007, 234; Bowden 2018, 165. 31 A further allusion to the Homeric world has been traced in Alexander’s offer to the Nereids in the Hellespont (Thetis, Achilles’ mother, was a Nereid) (see Vox 2007; Minchin 2012, 82 n. 37). This view can also be supported by a parallel from the Anonymous of P. Oxyr. XV 1798, FGrH 148 F44, col. II, where Alexander offers a sacrifice to Thetis, the Nereids, Nereus, and Poseidon before the battle of Issus.

174  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero his tomb and crowns the tomb of Achilles, while Hephaestion, others say, crowned that of Patroclus. Alexander, Arrian then writes, blessed Achilles for having Homer to secure his posthumous fame. At this point comes the Second Preface. Arrian comments that Alexander was indeed right to feel inferior to Achilles concerning those who wrote about him, since no author has written a history of Alexander worthy of his extraordinary feats. For this reason, Arrian aspires to fill this gap in Alexander’s career and to honor his fame by writing the Anabasis. Here are the last lines of the Second Preface (1.12.4–5): ἔνθεν καὶ αὐτὸς ὁρμηθῆναί φημι ἐς τήνδε τὴν ξυγγραφήν, οὐκ ἀπαξιώσας ἐμαυτὸν φανερὰ καταστήσειν ἐς ἀνθρώπους τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργα. ὅστις δὲ ὢν ταῦτα ὑπὲρ ἐμαυτοῦ, τὸ μὲν ὄνομα οὐδὲν δέομαι ἀναγράψαι, οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ ἄγνωστον ἐς ἀνθρώπους ἐστίν, οὐδὲ πατρίδα ἥτις μοί ἐστιν οὐδὲ γένος τὸ ἐμόν, οὐδὲ εἰ δή τινα ἀρχὴν ἐν τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ ἦρξα· ἀλλ’ ἐκεῖνο ἀναγράφω, ὅτι ἐμοὶ πατρίς τε καὶ γένος καὶ ἀρχαὶ οἵδε οἱ λόγοι εἰσί τε καὶ ἀπὸ νέου ἔτι ἐγένοντο. καὶ ἐπὶ τῷδε οὐκ ἀπαξιῶ ἐμαυτὸν τῶν πρώτων ἐν τῇ φωνῇ τῇ Ἑλλάδι, εἴπερ οὖν καὶ Ἀλέξανδρον τῶν ἐν τοῖς ὅπλοις. That, I declare, is why I myself have embarked on this history, not judging myself unworthy to make Alexander’s deeds known to men. Whoever I may be, this I know in my favor; I need not write my name, for it is not at all unknown among men, nor my country nor my family nor any office I may have held in my own land; this I do set on paper, that country, family, and offices I find and I have found from my youth in these tales. That is why I think myself not unworthy of the masters of Greek speech, just as Alexander was among the masters of warfare.

Although Arrian’s aim to present himself as Alexander’s Homer in the Second Preface has already of course been noted,32 there has been no detailed presentation of the techniques Arrian uses in order to achieve this goal. In what follows, we will analyze these techniques and thereby try to shed new light on the following three debated points of the Second Preface: (a) Arrian’s unwillingness to reveal his name, land, and offices. While some argue that in this way Arrian stands against those historians who offered so many details about themselves,33 others have developed the opinion that, influenced by his teacher Epictetus, Arrian tries here to be modest and thereby to present himself as trustworthy.34  32 See Breebaart 1960, 23–24; Schepens 1971, 263–264; Anderson 1980, 120; HCA I, 104–107; Stadter 1981, 162; Moles 1985, 163–166; Marincola 1989, 188; Gray 1990; AAA I, 346–347; Stewart 1993, 83–84; Ambaglio 1994, 8–9; Zeitlin 2001, 201–202; Bowden 2018, 165–166. 33 Moles 1985, 164 n. 13; Marincola 1989, 187–189; Burliga 2013, 15–17. 34 Stadter 1980, 64–65 and 212 n. 21; Brunt 1983, 538; Gray 1990; Vox 2007, 237.

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(b) The topos ἐμοὶ πατρίς τε καὶ γένος καὶ ἀρχαὶ οἵδε οἱ λόγοι εἰσί τε καὶ ἀπὸ νέου ἔτι ἐγένοντο; and particularly (c) the meaning of the phrase οἵδε οἱ λόγοι. It is disputable whether Arrian refers here only to the Anabasis35 or to all of his works.36 Abandoning the traditional tendency to relate the Second Preface mostly with the First Preface (or the epilogue in 7.30),37 we will instead associate it with the immediately preceding account of Alexander’s route to Troy and with Alexander’s ensuing words to Parmenio before the battle of the Granicus (1.13.6–7). This analysis will reveal that the epic coloring of the Second Preface is much more intense than it has been understood thus far. Second, it may offer alternative answers to issues (a), (b), and (c).

.. The Route to Troy The route to Troy prepares the reader for Arrian’s appearance as the new Homer in the Second Preface. First, there is a constant alternation between the primary narrator (Arrian) and secondary narrators (rumors) that divides the field of action and the events taking place in it into two levels, namely the real world and an epic sphere. The attribution of motives is also oriented towards the Homeric world. In the account of Alexander’s route to Troy, there are only three cases where Arrian ascribes motives to Alexander or tries to explain the reasons why he acted in a specific way. All of these cases strikingly concern Alexander’s sacrifices and offerings at the tombs of the Homeric heroes (Protesilaus, Priam, Achilles). In this way, Arrian orients the reader towards the epic dimension of these events. It has rightly been noted that Alexander’s visit to Troy and the solemnity with which he crossed the Hellespont must have had diplomatic connotations. In part Alexander must in all likelihood have wished to create an antithesis between himself and the arrogant Xerxes who had whipped the Hellespont (Hdt. 7.35).38

 35 Bowie 1970, 26–27; Schepens 1971, 264; Roisman 1983–1984, 257; Moles 1985, 166; Gray 1990, 180 n. 3. 36 Bosworth 1972, 168; HCA I, 107; AAA I, 349; Sisti 2002, 41–44; Burliga 2013, 22. 37 For a connection between the Second Preface and ch. 7.30, see Schepens 1971, 255; Hidber 2007, 184 n. 3; Burliga 2013, 105. 38 Georges 1994, 58–66; Vermeule 1995; Bryce 2006, 153 n. 26; Borgeaud 2010, 342–343; Minchin 2012, 82–83. For other occasions where Arrian contrasts Alexander with Xerxes, cf. ch.

176  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Furthermore, as for the sacrifice at the tomb of Priam, Alexander may have wished to imply that he would respect his enemies on both a military and a cultural level, and thus bring the two worlds (East and West) to a state of reconciliation.39 Arrian, however, avoids approaching the matter from just a practical foreign policy perspective. He instead confines himself to drawing only romantic Homeric parallels with Alexander’s deeds: Alexander sacrificed to Protesilaus and “the intention of the sacrifice was that his own landing on Asian soil might be luckier than that of Protesilaus” (1.11.5). A few lines later, the parallelism is completed in the scene of Alexander’s landing in Troy in full armor as a Homeric hero (1.11.7). As for the sacrifice to Priam, Alexander’s intention, according to Arrian, was to pray to Priam “not to vent his anger on the race of Neoptolemus, of which he himself was a scion” (1.11.8).40 Arrian’s Homeric persona is thus preceded by, and is placed over the top of, a series of comparisons: Alexander-Protesilaus; Alexander-Neoptolemus; Alexander-Achilles; Hephaestion-Patroclus; and, lastly, Arrian-Homer. The author’s appearance as Alexander’s Homer is also prepared by the sweating of Orpheus’ statue. Three cross-references create a short narrative sequence, which begins with Aristander’s prophecy that Alexander will be honored by future poets and which ends with Arrian’s statement that he aspires to fill the gap in the literature on Alexander. Aristander’s words here run as follows (1.11.1–2):41 οἱ δὲ καὶ ταῖς Μούσαις λέγουσιν ὅτι ἀγῶνα ἐποίησε. καὶ ἐν τούτῳ ἀγγέλλεται τὸ Ὀρφέως τοῦ Οἰάγρου τοῦ Θρᾳκός ἄγαλμα τὸ ἐν Πιερίδι ἱδρῶσαι ξυνεχῶς· καὶ ἄλλοι ἄλλα ἐπεθείαζον τῶν μάντεων, Ἀρίστανδρος δέ, ἀνὴρ Τελμισσεύς, μάντις, θαρρεῖν ἐκέλευσεν Ἀλέξανδρον· δηλοῦσθαι γάρ, ὅτι ποιηταῖς ἐπῶν τε καὶ μελῶν καὶ ὅσοι ἀμφὶ ᾠδὴν ἔχουσι πολὺς πόνος ἔσται ποιεῖν τε καὶ ᾄδειν Ἀλέξανδρον καὶ τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργα. Others add that he held games in honor of the Muses. Meanwhile, it was reported that the statue of Orpheus, son of Oeagrus the Thracian, in Pieria, had sweated continuously; the  7.14.5 and ch. 3.18.11–12, the episode of the burning of Persepolis, on which see, above all, Chaplin 2011. For the tradition on Alexander’s visit to Troy, see Instinsky 1949. 39 Georges 1994, 64. 40 Arrian’s epic perspective is also indicated by the vocabulary (μῆνιν for Priam’s anger). 41 The validity of Aristander’s interpretation is stressed by his presentation as the wise advisor, who is distinguished among less qualified peers (ἄλλοι ἄλλα … Ἀρίστανδρος δέ). For the ‘wise advisor’ motif in ancient historiography, see Bischoff 1932 and Lattimore 1939 for Herodotus; Liotsakis 2016, 78 for Thucydides and n. 18 with further bibliography; Liotsakis 2017, 59–62 and 60 n. 111, also with further bibliography. On this motif in Near Eastern literature, see Konstantakos 2008, 34, 57–65, 153–179, 197–224. In particular, for the motif of the best counselor-interpreter who offers the most satisfying explanation of a sign, see Konstantakos 2015.

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seers interpreted this variously, but Aristander of Telmissus encouraged Alexander by saying that it meant that makers of epics and choric songs and writers of odes would be hard at work on poetry and hymns honoring Alexander and his exploits.

This story is closely linked with ch. 1.12.1–2, where Arrian implies that the prophecy, although correct, remains unfulfilled: καὶ εὐδαιμόνισεν ἄρα, ὡς λόγος, Ἀλέξανδρος Ἀχιλλέα, ὅτι Ὁμήρου κήρυκος ἐς τὴν ἔπειτα μνήμην ἔτυχε. καὶ μέντοι καὶ ἦν Ἀλεξάνδρῳ οὐχ ἥκιστα τούτου ἕνεκα εὐδαιμονιστέος Ἀχιλλεύς, ὅτι αὐτῷ γε Ἀλεξάνδρῳ, οὐ κατὰ τὴν ἄλλην ἐπιτυχίαν, τὸ χωρίον τοῦτο ἐκλιπὲς ξυνέβη οὐδὲ ἐξηνέχθη ἐς ἀνθρώπους τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργα ἐπαξίως, οὔτ’ οὖν καταλογάδην, οὔτε τις ἐν μέτρῳ ἐποίησεν· ἀλλ’ οὐδὲ ἐν μέλει ᾔσθη Ἀλέξανδρος […]. And Alexander, so the story goes, blessed Achilles for having Homer to proclaim his fame to posterity. Alexander might well have counted Achilles happy on this score, since, fortunate as Alexander was in other ways, there was a great gap left here, and Alexander’s exploits were never celebrated as they deserved, either in prose or verse; there were not even choral lyrics for Alexander […].

This passage is transitional between Aristander’s prophecy and its fulfillment in Arrian’s announcement of his decision to write the Anabasis. First, it repeats Aristander’s mention of epic and lyric poetry. Second, it introduces a new element, prose (καταλογάδην), which prepares the reader for Arrian’s exercise of ξυγγραφή in the Second Preface. Third, by arguing that Alexander’s exploits have not received the praises they deserve (ἐπαξίως), Arrian refers here to the words πολὺς πόνος ἔσται of Aristander’s prophecy: the difficulty the poets were predicted to face in singing the praises of Alexander is accountable not only by virtue of the quantity of his exploits, but also because the authors of Alexander will have to labor in order to give their accounts the literary quality commensurate with the greatness of Alexander’s feats.42 Last comes the Second Preface, where Arrian, in the guise of Alexander’s Homer, appears as the beloved of the Muses and their offspring Orpheus, as the one who will fulfill the prophecy. The participle οὐκ ἀπαξιώσας echoes the adverb ἐπαξίως, while the words φανερὰ καταστήσειν ἐς ἀνθρώπους τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργα express Arrian’s aspiration to fill the gap mentioned in the phrase οὐδὲ ἐξηνέχθη ἐς ἀνθρώπους τὰ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἔργα of the previous stage. By means of these crossreferences, Arrian thus implies that his work is divinely inspired and that he is

 42 This is also the meaning behind Arrian’s invitation to us to read his work and compare it to those written before him (Praef. 3). Arrian boasts not only of the reliability but also the literary merits of his work. Cf. Brunt 1977, 31.

178  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero the author the Muses meant, when they promised to Alexander through the sweating of Orpheus’ statue that he would be glorified by future generations.43 Given the intense Homeric coloring of the Second Preface and its preparatory chapters, these words may also be seen as the means for Arrian to draw one further parallel between himself and Homer, namely a parallel with Homer’s relationship with the Muses and his divine inspiration. From the archaic era to Arrian’s own age, the divine origins of Homeric poetry, as well as that of many other poets, such as Orpheus and Pindar, constituted a commonplace in the GraecoRoman world.44 Not only will Arrian glorify Alexander as Homer did Achilles, but  43 Arrian’s intention to stress the divine origins of the Anabasis is also suggested by the fact that he both opens and ends his account with this statement. In the epilogue (7.30.3), we read the very last sentence of the work: ἐφ’ ὅτῳ ὡρμήθην οὐδὲ αὐτὸς ἄνευ θεοῦ ἐς τήνδε τὴν ξυγγραφήν (“it was for that purpose that I embarked on this history, and like Alexander not without god’s help”). The implication of the divine origins of the Anabasis derives from both (a) Arrian’s own religious beliefs and (b) the rhetorical practices present in his intellectual environment (for (b) see, e.g., Anderson 1993, 197ff.). In his Cynegeticus, he writes that “nothing that happens without the gods turns out well for men. Those who sail the sea start with a prayer to the gods, at least those who care about their safety, and when they set home safe they sacrifice a thank offering to the gods of the sea, Poseidon and Amphitrite and the Nereids. Farmers sacrifice to Demeter and her daughter and Dionysus, craftsmen to Athena and Hephaestus, those in education to the Muses and Apollo leader of the Muses and Memory and Hermes, those interested in affairs of love to Aphrodite and Eros and Peitho and the Graces” (Arr. Cyn. 35.1–3. Transl. Phillips/Willcock). Similarly, in his Periplus, he shares with the Emperor Hadrian his hope that the god will help him force the Colcheans to pay the tribute to Rome (Arr. Peripl. M. Eux. 11.2). In this statement, according to Brunt (1976, xi), “there is an old-world piety”. On the other hand, cf. examples such as the prologues of Polemo’s speech in front of Hadrian or of Aelius Aristides (Or. 38.1, Or. 41.1, and Or. 43.1–2) (for Or. 38.1 see Behr 1981, 411. For the rhetorical exploitation of religion by Aristides see Pernot 2002 and 2006), where they programmatically explain that their speeches resulted from a god-sent dream or represent the divine will. These instances show that the religious aspects of the Second Preface of the Anabasis also reflect common rhetorical practices of that period. 44 Falter 1934. The need for divine inspiration, in addition to natural skills, can be found already in Odysseus’ words to the Homeric aoidos Demodocus (Od. 8.488): ἢ σέ γε Μοῦσ’ ἐδίδαξε, Διὸς πάϊς, ἢ σέ γ’ Ἀπόλλων (“Surely the Muse, Zeus’ daughter or else Apollo has taught you”). On this belief in archaic poetry (epic and lyric), see Frazier 2003. On the motif in Plato and Aristotle, see Avni 1968; Collobert 2011; Büttner 2011. On Plato and Proclus, see Fortier 2015. See also Billault 2002 on Democritus, Plato, and Dio Chrysostom, and Bouvier 2003. On the Neoplatonists’ reception of Homer as a divine sage and the origins of this kind of reception, see Lamberton 1986, 1– 43. As for Arrian’s age, Jan Fredrik Kindstrand has already offered a meticulous analysis of the topic in three authors of the Second Sophistic, Dio Chrysostom, Aelius Aristides, and Maximus of Tyre. One example from among the many mentioned by Kindstrand is Dio’s citation of Democritus’ words (Or. 53.1): Ὅμηρος φύσεως λαχὼν θεαζούσης ἐπέων κόσμον ἐτεκτήνατο παντοίων (“Homer, who received as his share a nature that was divine, has constructed an ordered

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he will also force the reader to think that his work will be equally divine to the Iliad. Even the fact that he implicitly associates his work with the Muses in the very preface of his work can be seen as a throwback to the epic appeals to the goddess in the proems of both the Iliad and the Odyssey. Last, Arrian also satisfies the epic need for balance between a premature death and glorification.45 In the Iliad, Achilles, Alexander’s model, constantly struggles with the fact that he knows about his imminent death and the subsequent glory he will enjoy.46 In this context, someone must compensate for Alexander’s early death, and this is exactly what its author claims the Anabasis is purposed to do.

.. The Second Preface and Alexander’s words to Parmenio So far, we have shown the way that Alexander’s route to Troy prepares the reader for Arrian’s appearance in the Second Preface as the new Homer. The contrast between the historical reality and the epic sphere through the coexistence of the primary and secondary narrators, combined with the epic-oriented attribution of motives, constructs the heroic frame in which Alexander is gradually transformed into a Homeric hero and Arrian into Homer. The series of associations between Alexander and Homeric figures culminate in Arrian’s parallelism with Homer. Arrian will offer Alexander the epic glory he lacks; he is equally divinely inspired, and excels in terms of his literary skills, just as Homer did. Arrian too will thus secure the balance between his hero’s premature death and posthumous fame. At last, when we reach the Second Preface, Arrian adds some further Homeric features to his literary persona. First, he keeps his anonymity, as Homer does in his epics.47 As I have said above, some interpreters have suggested that Arrian’s anonymity reflects his criticism towards those historians of his age who would gloatingly offer superfluous information on their offices, family, and country.  world of all kinds of epic verses”, transl. Laks et al.). See Kinstrand 1973, 116–117 on Dio and 163– 168 on Maximus. This is a way of thinking also discernible in Arrian’s hint that he will write under the inspiration of the Muses while exploiting his own literary skills. In this respect, we may also cite Aristides’ thoughts about the coexistence of divine guidance and human abilities in Homer (Or. 2.96: τὸ τῆς φύσεως κράτος καὶ τὸ δοκοῦν τῷ θεῷ), or Maximus’ habit of using the epithet ἔνθεος when referring to Homer (26.2d; 26.4a). 45 For this subject in Homer, see, as a selection, Edwards 1985, 43–69; Vernant 1996. 46 Cf. Griffin 1980, 93–95. Schein 1996. 47 Cf. Breebaart 1960, 24–25; Schepens 1971, 264 n. 26; Marincola 1989, 188–189.

180  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero However, this view, although it explains Arrian’s omission of information on his fatherland and career, does not offer a satisfactory explanation for his anonymity. Besides, in his Bithyniaca (F1.1), Arrian shows us that he had no qualms about generously offering all his personal information. For Arrian, to keep his name secret or not was not a matter of elegance or principle, but depended rather on the special needs of each of his works. In the Bithyniaca, a work dedicated to his homeland, to provide the reader with additional information on his family, his social status in his city, and the offices assigned to him by his compatriots was his own way to legitimize his right to write about his homeland.48 In different ways, in the Cynegeticus, the Periplus, and the Tactica, where his aim was not to portray himself as the ‘child of Bithynia’ but as the ‘New Xenophon’, he implied or explicitly said that he was the namesake of Xenophon. Accordingly, Arrian’s choice to retain his anonymity in the Anabasis probably lies in the literary mask that he chose to fashion for himself. Arrian’s intention this time was to resemble Homer in this respect as well. This view is strengthened by the fact that Arrian justifies his choice to remain anonymous by using epic language (1.12.5): ἐμοὶ πατρίς τε καὶ γένος καὶ ἀρχαὶ οἵδε οἱ λόγοι εἰσί τε καὶ ἀπὸ νέου ἔτι ἐγένοντο country, family, and offices I find and have found from my youth in these tales

This is an echo of Andromache’s words to Hector (Il. 6.429–430):49 Ἕκτορ ἀτὰρ σύ μοί ἐσσι πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ ἠδὲ κασίγνητος, σὺ δέ μοι θαλερὸς παρακοίτης. Hector, thus you are father to me, and my honored mother, you are my brother, and you it is who are my young husband.

Modern scholarship parallels Arrian’s use of Andromache’s words with Xenophon’s Anabasis,50 νομίζω γὰρ ὑμᾶς ἐμοὶ εἶναι καὶ πατρίδα καὶ φίλους καὶ συμμάχους (X. An. 1.3.6)

 48 Marincola 1989, 188. 49 Cf. Brunt 1976, 53 n. 4; Moles 1985, 166; Bosworth 1988a, 33; Gray 1990, 181 n. 7; Swain 1996, 244; AAA I, 349; Bowden 2018, 165. 50 Bosworth 1988a, 32–37.

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For I consider that you are to me both fatherland and friends and allies.51

Epictetus’ Dissertations,52 τοῦτο πατὴρ καὶ ἀδελφὸς καὶ συγγενεῖς καὶ πατρὶς καὶ θεός (Arr. Epict. 2.22.16) This to it is father and brother and kinsmen and country and god.53

and Aelius Aristides’ words in54 καὶ γὰρ παῖδας καὶ γονέας καὶ πράξεις τε καὶ ἀναπαύσεις καὶ πάντα ἐθέμην τούτους [i.e. τοὺς λόγους]. (Arist. Or. 33.20) For I have made it [i.e. oratory] children, parents, work, relaxation, and all else.55

These parallels indicate that the use of Il. 6.429–430 was a rhetorical topos. Aristides’ passage in particular demonstrates that this topos was also used when an author wished to confess his dedication to education, as is the case with Arrian. The question is, then, whether Arrian is merely employing a rhetorical scheme regarding his literary quality,56 or whether he is purposely stressing his identification with Homer even more intensely. In the last part of this section, we will argue in favor of the second alternative, by examining Arrian’s passage in light of some new parallels and in connection with Alexander’s words to Parmenio in ch. 1.13.6–7. Andromache’s words were no doubt one of the most celebrated passages in antiquity, and not least in the Imperial age.57 Some authors of the Second Sophistic must have developed their own way in imitating these verses. If we examine, for example, Aristides’ Or. 33.20 with his Or. 32.2, where he uses the same topos to express his love for his deceased teacher Alexander (τροφέα, διδάσκαλον, πατέρα, ἑταῖρον, πάντ’ εἶχον καλεῖν), we observe that in both cases Aristides has

 51 Transl. Brownson. 52 Moles 1985, 166; Bosworth 1988a, 33; Gray 1990, 181 n. 7; Swain 1996, 244; AAA I, 349. 53 Transl. Oldfather. 54 Brunt 1976, 53 n. 4; Swain 1996, 244 n. 13. 55 Transl. Behr. 56 Swain 1996, 244 n. 13. In light of this parallel from Aelius, Arrian must refer here not only to the Anabasis but to his education and all of his works including the Anabasis. 57 According to the surviving texts, this tradition begins with the words of Intaphernes’ wife to Darius in Hdt. 3.119.6. It continues with Sophocles’ imitation of Andromache’s words in Tecmessa’s words to Aias (S. Aj. 514ff; and see further Easterling 1984; Zanker 1992; Finglass 2009) and is also traceable in Latin literature (e.g. Vergil’s Aeneid, on which see Hughes 1997).

182  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero four nouns (Or. 33.20: παῖδας, γονέας, πράξεις, and ἀναπαύσεις // Or. 32.2: τροφέα, διδάσκαλον, πατέρα, and ἑταῖρον), recapitulating them with a πάντ’(α), which indicates that Aristides had consolidated his own way of using the topos. What is more, a passage from Plutarch’s Moralia proves that this scheme was consciously loaned from Andromache’s words. In one of his practical admonitions to husbands, Plutarch advises a certain Pollianus to treat his wife in the appropriate way (Plu. Coni. praec. 145a): τῇ δὲ γυναικὶ πανταχόθεν τὸ χρήσιμον συνάγων ὥσπερ αἱ μέλιτται καὶ φέρων αὐτὸς ἐν σεαυτῷ μεταδίδου καὶ προσδιαλέγου, φίλους αὐτῇ ποιῶν καὶ συνήθεις τῶν λόγων τοὺς ἀρίστους. “πατὴρ” μὲν γάρ “ἐσσι” αὐτῇ “καὶ πότνια μήτηρ ἠδὲ κασίγνητος”· οὐχ ἧττον δὲ σεμνὸν ἀκοῦσαι γαμετῆς λεγούσης ‘ἄνερ. ἀτὰρ σύ μοί ἐσσι καθηγητὴς καὶ φιλόσοφος καὶ διδάσκαλος τῶν καλλίστων καὶ θειοτάτων.” And for your wife you must collect from every source what is useful, as do the bees, and carrying it within your own self impart it to her, and then discuss it with her, and make the best of these doctrines her favorite and familiar themes. For to her “Thou art a father and precious-loved mother, Yea, and a brother as well.” No less ennobling is it for a man to hear his wife say, “My dear husband, nay but thou art to me guide, philosopher, and teacher in all that is most lovely and divine.”58

All these examples show how popular the practice of playing with Andromache’s verses was. It is hard to believe that readers of Plutarch’s and Aelius’ range would miss the Homeric allusion in Arrian’s words. A sophisticated examination of Arrian’s style shows that he paid special attention to the Homeric nature of the topos. The three main linguistic features of Andromache’s words are: (a) the tripartite division of the sentence (1. πατὴρ καὶ πότνια μήτηρ; 2. ἠδὲ κασίγνητος; 3. θαλερὸς παρακοίτης); (b) the use of the dative μοι/μοί; and (c) the polysyndeton καί … ἠδέ … δέ.59 Epictetus’ text and Aristides’

 58 Transl. Babbitt. 59 Tsagalis 2002, 113 on X. An. 1.3.6.

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Or. 33.20 retain only (c), while Aristides’ Or. 32.2 keeps none of them. Arrian’s version follows all of them: (a) πατρίς, γένος, ἀρχαί. This is a triptych which is clearly intentional. This is suggested by the fact that a few lines earlier Arrian has mentioned four words (ὄνομα … πατρίδα … γένος … ἀρχήν), but in this case he consciously omits the ὄνομα in order to stay as close as possible to Andromache’s tripartite expression; (b) ἐμοί; (c) τε καί … καί. This is also the case in the samples from Plutarch and Xenophon, where we have clearly direct allusions to the Homeric text. The topos in Arrian’s Second Preface, along with those of Plutarch and Xenophon, belongs to this category of passages, where the author wished to place great emphasis on the Homeric origins of his loan. Arrian’s intention to use this topos not merely as a rhetorical means but as a way to identify himself with Homer is also suggested by the connection of his words with their subsequent context, namely Alexander’s words to Parmenio. A few chapters after the Second Preface, we read Alexander’s answer to Parmenio’s advice not to cross the Granicus. Alexander says (1.13.6–7): Ἀλέξανδρος δέ, “ταῦτα μέν”, ἔφη, “ὦ Παρμενίων, γιγνώσκω· αἰσχύνομαι δέ, εἰ τὸν μὲν Ἑλλήσποντον διέβην εὐπετῶς, τοῦτο δέ, σμικρὸν ῥεῦμα, — οὕτω τῷ ὀνόματι τὸν Γράνικον ἐκφαυλίσας, — εἴρξει ἡμᾶς τὸ μὴ οὐ διαβῆναι ὡς ἔχομεν. καὶ τοῦτο οὔτε πρὸς Μακεδόνων τῆς δόξης οὔτε πρὸς τῆς ἐμῆς ἐς τοὺς κινδύνους ὀξύτητος ποιοῦμαι.” Alexander, however, replied: “All this I know, Parmenio, but I should feel ashamed if after crossing the Hellespont easily, this petty stream (by this epithet did he belittle the Granicus) hinders us from crossing, just as we are. I consider this unworthy either of the prestige of the Macedonians or of my own celerity in dealing with dangers.”

These words echo Hector’s answer to Andromache (Il. 6.441–446): ἦ καὶ ἐμοὶ τάδε πάντα μέλει γύναι· ἀλλὰ μάλ’ αἰνῶς αἰδέομαι Τρῶας καὶ Τρῳάδας ἑλκεσιπέπλους, αἴ κε κακὸς ὣς νόσφιν ἀλυσκάζω πολέμοιο· οὐδέ με θυμὸς ἄνωγεν, ἐπεὶ μάθον ἔμμεναι ἐσθλὸς αἰεὶ καὶ πρώτοισι μετὰ Τρώεσσι μάχεσθαι ἀρνύμενος πατρός τε μέγα κλέος ἠδ’ ἐμὸν αὐτοῦ. All these things are in my mind also, lady; yet I would feel deep shame before the Trojans, and the Trojan women with trailing garments, if like a coward I were to shrink aside from the fighting; and the spirit wil not let me, since I have learned to be valiant and to fight always among the foremost ranks of the Trojans, winning for my own self great glory, and for my father.

184  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero In total, Arrian creates echoes between his and Alexander’s words on the one side and Andromache’s and Hector’s dialogue on the other side. Texts from the Second Sophistic era clearly show that Arrian’s audience was familiar with Andromache and Hector’s dialogue and generally even with the most distant cross-references between their words. Valerius Apsines, a rhetorician praised by Philostratus for his extraordinary memory (Philostr. VS 2.628), when examining in his Ars Rhetorica the ways in which a rhetorician can invoke the audience’s pity, quotes the dialogue between Andromache and Hector, including the latter’s prediction that Andromache will end up as a slave in Greece (Il. 6.450–463). Apsines focuses on the distant cross-reference between these verses and Andromache’s predictions in Il. 22.493–499 (Aps. Rh. 314.28 – 315).60 This example is interesting insofar as it indicates how closely Hector’s and Andromache’s words were examined by the intellectuals of the Second Sophistic. It is almost impossible to imagine that an audience so familiar in detecting such distant cross-references in the passages of Hector and Andromache would miss the connection between their dialogue and Arrian’s ch. 1.12.5 and Alexander’s ch. 1.13.6. To conclude, Arrian’s words in the Second Preface and Alexander’s words in the Granicus account mark the culmination of their transformations into Homer and a Homeric hero respectively. These are the first occasions where we read of them talking after the transition to the epic area of Asia.61 Arrian impersonates Homer and portrays Alexander as speaking in the language of a Homeric hero, Hector.62 Alexander defends aidōs, resembling Hector, the figure mostly associated with this moral value in the Iliad.63 The passage, coming as it does at the beginning of the Anabasis, containing Alexander’s first battle and echoing his first words in Asia, has an introductory and exemplary role for all the following passages that reflect Alexander’s admiration of Homeric moral values. What is more, the affinity of Alexander’s words with those of Hector counts as the first of an abundance of elements that indicate what we clarified from the beginning of

 60 For this text, see Dilts/Kennedy 1997, 217; Patillon 2001, 96. 61 As for Arrian’s authorial voice, it goes without saying that an author ‘talks’ to his audience even in a covert way, through his narrative. I rather mean here that the Second Preface is the first authorial comment after the transition in Asia and thus the first time since the First Preface that Arrian’s authorial ‘I’ becomes more intense. 62 As we will see, Alexander borrows Hector’s words in ch. 6.9.5 as well and Achilles’ words in ch. 7.12.3 and ch. 7.14.6. He also repeats Arrian’s topos from Andromache’s Il. 6.429–430 in ch. 7.9.8 (perhaps a loan also from X. An. 1.3.6). 63 Cf. Cairns 1993, 78–83. On the Homeric aidōs, see also Kirk 1985, 353–359.

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this chapter: Arrian transcends the limitations of the fashioning of Alexander as the new Achilles.

. The battle of the Granicus: Alexander’s first aristeia Alexander’s epic words to Parmenio are not the only Homeric feature in the Granicus narrative. Concentrating all the basic epic and heroic motifs of the battles of the Anabasis, the description transfers the reader to a Homeric field of action. Alexander is easy to discern among his soldiers due to the splendor and grandeur of his armor.64 He appears to attack first, as a Homeric πρόμος, honoring the heroic ideal of bravery and preeminence on the battlefield. Last, a significant part of the account is dedicated to the king’s aristeia in a series of single combats, in all of which Alexander prevails.65 An epic hue dominates Plutarch’s and Diodorus’ descriptions as well. Plutarch offers a portrait of Alexander similar to that of Arrian: Alexander starts the battle and is distinguishable from the rest of his army due to his armor, while the greatest portion of the account focuses on Alexander’s aristeia with quite the same details as those in Arrian (Plu. Alex. 16.1–19).66 This is also the case with Diodorus (17.19.1–21.6), who devotes his account to Alexander’s aristeia and even presents the Persians as acting like Homeric heroes.67 Last, all three of the authors focus exclusively on the right wing of the Macedonian army, where Alexander fought. These manifest similarities in Diodorus, Plutarch, and Arrian have occasionally been attributed to the fact that they drew upon the same sources, which must also have focused on Alexander’s wing.68 Apart from the headache this pro-

 64 HCA I, 120. 65 AAA I, XL. Alexander’s aristeia resembles the structure of the Homeric aristeia, a series of obstacles and enemies as challenges for the protagonist. On this feature in classical historiography and its probable Homeric origins, see Lendon 2017, 53–54 and n. 39. 66 On the epic characteristics of this battle description in Plutarch, see Mossman 1988, 87; Hammond 1993, 35. 67 For the view that Diodorus’ account is the most literarily construed and least reliable, see Badian 1977, 272; Hammond 1980b, 73–74; Devine 1986, 267. For the opposite view, see the bibliography offered by Badian (1977, 271 n. 2). Most recently and for a more neutral stance, see Prandi 2013, 25–26. 68 Lehmann 1911, 235; Badian 1977, 273–274.

186  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero vides to those historians who have attempted to reconstruct the battle in its details,69 the resemblances between the three accounts compel us to elaborate on the Homeric elements of Arrian’s description in comparison with Plutarch and Diodorus in order to trace Arrian’s possible innovations. Arrian’s account unfolds as follows. Having been informed that Alexander is approaching, the Persian generals gather in Zeleia, a city near the river Granicus, and confer as to whether they should face him or not. Despite the Rhodian Memnon’s objections, they decide to fight Alexander on the banks of the Granicus, where they position their army (1.12.8–10). On learning that the Persians are at the river, Alexander leads his army there. At this point, Arrian composes the short dialogue between Parmenio and Alexander. Next up comes the battle description. The two armies toe the line and after a while Alexander orders his army to cross the river. At the right wing, which is the only one we have a picture of, Alexander orders Amyntas to begin first, while he follows from behind. As soon as Amyntas’ forces reach the other side of the river, they are facing the arrows and weapons of the Persians, who block their way onwards towards the river bank. In the meantime, Alexander arrives and a fierce battle ensues around him (1.14.1–15.5). At this point, Arrian opens with Alexander’s aristeia. The king is fighting with a broken spear. He asks a Macedonian to give him his own, but the soldier has also lost his. Finally, when the Corinthian Demaratus gives his spear to Alexander, the latter turns to Mithridates and beats him in his face. Afterwards, Rhoesakes hits Alexander on his head, but the helmet protects the king who eventually kills this enemy too. Finally, while Spithridates is behind Alexander and has raised his arm to kill him with his sword, Clitus saves the king at the very last moment by cutting off the arm of the Persian (1.15.6–8). After this series of single battles, Arrian turns back again to the general picture of the battle. The Macedonians have already crossed the river and appear to be prevailing against the Persian cavalry. The only opponents left are the Greek mercenary infantry troops, who are defeated by Alexander and his Macedonians (1.16.1–3). The battle description ends with a list of casualties on both sides, the tribute Alexander pays to the fallen, and the gifts he sends to Athens (1.16.4–7). In what follows, let us analyze the way in which Arrian innovatively evolves the preexisting Homeric tradition of the battle at the Granicus. We have already  69 For a complete survey of the bibliography up to his time, see Nikolitsis’ (1974) Introduction. For later scholarship, see Badian 1977; Foss/Badian 1977; Hammond 1980; Bosworth 1981; Hammond 1989.

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seen that, in the dialogue between Parmenio and Alexander, Arrian presents Alexander as uttering Homeric words. Given that the disagreement between the two men is also recorded by Plutarch, we need not doubt the communis opinio that this episode stems from a common source, which is to be sought among Arrian’s primary sources (Callisthenes, Ptolemy, and Aristobulus).70 A comparison of Arrian’s version with that of Plutarch allows for further penetration into the way that Arrian added new epic elements in this case. The debate scene in Plutarch is much shorter than Arrian’s, and Alexander’s response to Parmenio is offered in indirect speech (Alex. 16.2): τοῦ δὲ Παρμενίωνος, ὡς ὀψὲ τῆς ὥρας οὔσης, οὐκ ἐῶντος ἀποκινδυνεύειν, εἰπὼν αἰσχύνεσθαι τὸν Ἑλλήσποντον, εἰ φοβήσεται τὸν Γρανικὸν διαβεβηκὼς ἐκεῖνον, ἐμβάλλει τῷ ῥεύματι σὺν ἴλαις ἱππέων τρισκαίδεκα. And when Parmenio, on the ground that it was too late in the day, objected to their risking the passage, he declared that the Hellespont would blush for shame, if after having crossed that strait, he should be afraid of the Granicus, and plunged into the stream with thirteen troops of horsemen.71

By contrast, Arrian offers, as we saw, Alexander’s words in direct speech, perhaps to emphasize the Homeric words spoken in Alexander’s own voice. One might wonder if Alexander’s phrasing in Arrian stems from an older source. However, as has now been demonstrated, the connection between these words and Arrian’s paraphrase of Andromache’s verses suggest that Alexander’s short speech is Arrian’s own invention. In the traditional stories of Alexander’s shame in front of the Granicus, Arrian discerned Hector’s aidōs, which he chose to stress by using Hector’s words. Homeric content is intensified by Homeric style. Innovative interventions can also be traced in the first scene of Alexander’s aristeia. The king is presented by all three authors (D.S. 17.20.3–4; Plu. Alex. 16.8; Arr. An. 1.15.7) as fighting a Persian officer on his horse. Arrian’s account differs from those of Diodorus and Plutarch in that it depicts both Alexander and the Persian opponent as coming to the front of their lines: καὶ ὃς ἀναλαβὼν καὶ ἰδὼν Μιθριδάτην τὸν Δαρείου γαμβρὸν πολὺ πρὸ τῶν ἄλλων προϊππεύοντα καὶ ἐπάγοντα ἅμα οἷ ὥσπερ ἔμβολον τῶν ἱππέων ἐξελαύνει καὶ αὐτὸς πρὸ τῶν ἄλλων, καὶ παίσας ἐς τὸ πρόσωπον τῷ δόρατι καταβάλλει τὸν Μιθριδάτην.

 70 Cf. for discussion Brunt 1963, 27 n. 3; Hamilton 1969, 38; Badian 1977, 275; HCA I, 114–115; Devine 1986, 267–278; AAA I, 356–357; Bowden 2018, 169–172. 71 Transl. Perrin. Cf. Bowden’s (2018, 170) comparison of the two versions of the dialogue.

188  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Alexander grasped it and seeing Mithridates, son-in-law of Darius, riding far ahead of the line and leading on a wedge-shaped body of horse, charged out alone in advance of his own men, thrust his lance into Mithridates’ face and hurled him to the ground.

The scene is clearly Homeric: hero A notices hero B in front of his comrades and wishes to confront him. He therefore moves in front of the rest of his fellow soldiers and fights him.72 This episode generates inconsistencies with the preceding account. Arrian earlier informed us that the Persian cavalry was located on the river bank, so one might justifiably wonder if there could have been enough space for Alexander and Mithridates to stand between the two armies. Bosworth, who among others pointed out this contradiction, endeavored to pass over it by supposing that the Persian cavalry must have been located some meters further from the coast, so that Alexander and Mithridates had some space to run against each other.73 Even so, the chaotic atmosphere and the close-at-hand combat must have provided the two men with severely limited freedom of movement. This is not the only confusing and apparent impossibility emerging from the introduction of Homeric elements. In ch. 1.14.7, Amyntas and Socrates’ soldiers, who have been sent to cross the river first in order to pave the way for Alexander, are described as fighting in silence. In a different fashion, Alexander and his troops, coming from behind, cry out the war-song dedicated to the Homeric Enyalius.74 It is quite doubtful whether there is any historical accuracy to this Homeric scene, given that in ancient battles those shouting the most were normally those in the front line.75 Although this element may well originate from Alexander’s first historians, the previous examples suggest that Arrian was just as competent and willing to add epic material in his military descriptions as his sources were. The Homeric character of Alexander’s aristeia is evident not only in its content but also in the way in which it is connected to its context. The aristeia in the Iliad presupposes the transition from a general picture of the battle towards a particular part of the battlefield, where the protagonist is stationed. This is a very common technique in the epic war account.76 Now, if we compare the coexistence of the general view of the battle and the aristeia of an individual (Alexander) in Arrian’s description with those of Plutarch and Diodorus, we observe that Arrian  72 On this type of battle scenes in the Iliad, see Fenik 1968, 20, 68. 73 HCA I, 123. 74 On Enyalius as a Homeric figure in this account, see Fuller 1958, 147–148. 75 Krentz 1991; Hanson 2005, 136–146. 76 Fenik 1968, 18–19, 79; Latacz 1977, 68–74; van Wees 1997, 673–674; de Jong 2005, 17–18; Lendon 2017, 50–52.

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follows Homer in terms of style as well. While in Plutarch and Diodorus the general background of the battle and Alexander’s feats coexist within the same clauses by means of genitive absolutes and the scheme μέν … δέ, Arrian intensifies the Homeric character of the transition even further, borrowing from the Iliad schemes typically used in such cases: For the general picture (1.15.4): ἵπποι τε ἵπποις καὶ ἄνδρες ἀνδράσιν ἠγωνίζοντο horse entangled with horse, man with man in the struggle

Then comes the transitional phrase towards the individual’s aristeia (1.15.6): ἔνθα δὴ καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ ξυντρίβεται τὸ δόρυ ἐν τῇ μάχῃ. At this point in the mêlée Alexander’s lance was broken in the battle.

This technique resembles the epic transitions in: Il. 4.472–473 ἀλλήλοις ἐπόρουσαν, ἀνὴρ δ’ ἄνδρ’ ἐδνοπάλιζεν. ἔνθ’ ἔβαλ’ Ἀνθεμίωνος υἱὸν Τελαμώνιος Αἴας [who like wolves] sprang upon one another, with man against man in the onfall. There Telamonian Aias struck down the son of Anthemion. Il. 4.543–5.1 πολλοὶ γὰρ Τρώων καὶ Ἀχαιῶν ἤματι κείνῳ πρηνέες ἐν κονίῃσι παρ’ ἀλλήλοισι τέταντο. ἔνθ’ αὖ Τυδεΐδῃ Διομήδεϊ Παλλὰς Ἀθήνη For on that day many men of the Achaians and Trojans lay sprawled in the dust face downward beside one another. There to Tydeus’ son Diomedes Pallas Athene Il. 11.150–153 πεζοὶ μὲν πεζοὺς ὄλεκον φεύγοντας ἀνάγκῃ, ἱππεῖς δ’ ἱππῆας· ὑπὸ δέ σφισιν ὦρτο κονίη ἐκ πεδίου, τὴν ὦρσαν ἐρίγδουποι πόδες ἵππων χαλκῷ δηϊόωντες· ἀτὰρ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων and footmen killed footmen who fled under strong compulsion and riders killed riders, and a storm of dust rose up under them out of the plain uplifted by the thundering feet of their horses. They killed with the bronze, and among them powerful Agamemnon

190  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero

. From Issus to Gaugamela: the ‘anti-Homeric’ Darius The two battle descriptions of Issus and Gaugamela share so many features and interact with each other so greatly that one may justifiably examine them as a narrative pair. On a historical level, these were Alexander’s most significant victories in Asia, as they had the greatest impact on the expedition.77 On a compositional level, both serve as an important unit of comparison between Alexander’s and Darius’ military virtues. There are also structural affinities between the two accounts: both descriptions are introduced by a speech delivered by Alexander to his men a day before the battle. In both cases, Alexander explains the reasons of their superiority to the Persian forces and stresses the gravity of the situation by paying particular attention to what is at stake in the upcoming battle (2.7.3–9; 3.9.5–8). Moreover, in both battles, Arrian’s interest lies in the disposition of the troops and Alexander’s and Darius’ tactics; between the speech and the main description, we read of the formation of the two armies (2.8–9; 3.11–12). Lastly, the one description refers to the other: Darius’ choice of the battlefield in Gaugamela is presented as his reply to his own mistake at Issus (3.8.7). Epic style is exploited in a sophisticated way as a part of the interconnections between the two battle accounts, above all in the characterization of Darius. In particular, two paraphrases of Homeric verses have gone unnoticed by modern scholarship, which Arrian uses in order to juxtapose Darius’ cowardice in battle with Alexander’s bravery. In the Issus description, Darius is depicted as fleeing before even facing the Macedonian troops. The timidity of the Persian king is reflected in the following words (2.11.5): ὡς δὲ φάραγξί τε καὶ ἄλλαις δυσχωρίαις ἐνέκυρσε, τὸ μὲν ἅρμα ἀπολείπει αὐτοῦ καὶ τὴν ἀσπίδα καὶ τὸν κάνδυν ἐκδύς. But when he came to gullies and other difficult patches, he left his chariot there and threw away his shield and mantle […].

This is a paraphrase of Il. 13.145–146, which describes Hector’s bravery against the Greek phalanxes: κτείνων· ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ πυκινῇς ἐνέκυρσε φάλαγξι στῆ ῥα μάλ’ ἐγχριμφθείς· οἳ δ’ ἀντίοι υἷες Ἀχαιῶν

 77 Compare the historical discussions of Lane Fox 2005, 220–221, 311ff.; Lonsdale 2007, 60–62, 127–135; Heckel 2008, 57–65, 80–86; Heckel 2009a, 30–41; Rhodes 2010, 351–357; Müller 2014, 211–214, 224ff.; Worthington 2014, 171–173, 193–201.

From Issus to Gaugamela: the ‘anti-Homeric’ Darius  191

cutting his way. But when he collided with the dense battalions he was stopped, hard, beaten in on himself. The sons of the Achaeans

Arrian’s words resemble the Homeric verses at the following points: Hector in the Iliad

Darius in the Anabasis

. ἀλλ’ ὅτε

ὡς δὲ

2. ἐνέκυρσε

ἐνέκυρσε

3. φάλαγξι

φάραγξι

4. ἐγχριμφθείς

ἐκδύς

Furthermore, ἐνέκυρσε is a Homeric hapax legomenon, which is a further proof that Arrian is referring here exclusively to these verses of the Iliad. In order to discuss the significance of this allusion, we must first examine Arrian’s technique. This example is reminiscent of the technique of parody found in comedy and Hellenistic epic parody. In such schemes, the author used the language of Homer or tragedy in order to travesty situations and individuals. The exploitation of the grandiose style in humble situations was aimed to be humorous in a debasing way. The technique that interests us in Arrian’s case may be described by the term ‘substitution’ (substitutio): the parodist borrows a hemistich or a whole line and usually changes one of its words by replacing it or changing only some of its letters. The technique of changing only a few letters of a word was described by ancient scholiasts as παραγραμματισμός.78 In these cases, the new word resembles phonetically the replaced type. As a handful of examples illustrating this phenomenon, see the following: Matro F1.3 Olson/Sens: ἦλθον γὰρ κἀκεῖσε, πολὺς δέ μοι ἕσπετο λιμός = Od. 6.164: ἦλθον γὰρ καὶ κεῖσε, πολὺς δέ μοι ἕσπετο λαός F 1.16 Olson/Sens: ὀστρέα μυλόεντα = Od. 9.293: ὀστέα μυλόεντα F 1.1 Olson/Sens: δεῖπνά μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροφα καὶ μάλα πολλά

which echoes Od. 1.1: ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλά,

 78 Scholion to Ar. Eq. 59b; Scholion to Ar. Ra. 428a; Anon. Epitome artis rhetoricae (ed. Walz) 659, 661. See Tsitsiridis 2010b, 367 n. 18. Cf. Hunger 1991–1992.

192  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero with the δεῖπνά replacing the ἄνδρα, and the πολύτροφα resembling phonetically the πολύτροπον. See also: F5.3 Olson/Sens: ἄτριχας, οἰέτεας, λαγάνοις κατὰ νῶτον ἐίσας

echoing the description of the Eumelus’ horses in Il. 2.765 ὄτριχας οἰέτεας σταφύλῃ ἐπὶ νῶτον ἐΐσας

In this case, not only is the noun ἄτριχας a παραγραμματισμός of the noun ὄτριχας, but the dative λαγανοῖς is also syntactically equivalent to the dative σταφύλῃ.79 This is exactly what we read in Arrian, where the noun φάραγξι is a παραγραμματισμός of Homer’s φάλαγξι and the participle ἐκδύς has a syntactic role akin to that of the ἐγχριφθείς. Of course, this is a prose paraphrase of Homeric verses with no strictly structural affinities to the original. There is no meter and the similarities are scattered in this short passage. However, Arrian seems to have tried also to maintain the structure of the Homeric couplet. His words both begin and end as the couplet does (ἀλλ’ ὅτε // ὡς δ’ and ἐγχριφθείς // ἐκδύς), while he also followed in part the epic meter, as suggested by the two dactylics at the opening words of the period (ὡς δὲ φά ‫ ׀‬ραγξί τε = — ᴗ ᴗ ‫ — ׀‬ᴗ ᴗ).80 In such cases, the replacement is the element that creates the comic effect,81 which is important to bear in mind when examining Arrian’s passage. Il. 13.145146 is a description of Hector’s bravery in his effort to set fire to the Achaeans’ ships and pursue them up the coast. At this precise moment, Hector comes in front of the Greek phalanxes and stands close to them, pushing against them, while they hit him with their spears. This couplet is one of the most powerful examples of Hector’s virtue.82 By contrast, Darius is ironically portrayed through the Homeric paraphrase as behaving like a coward. Between the two men emerge the following antitheses: (a) Hector confronts phalanxes of warriors and, full of courage, is ready to fight them. In contrast, Darius, not while attacking but while fleeing, faces the  79 The technique of substitutio was common, e.g., in Aristophanes (Tsitsiridis 2010b, 365ff.) and in Hellenistic parodies to do with dinners. For all these examples, see Olson/Sens 1999, 20–24 and 35; Sens 2006, 227–228. 80 Cf. the hexameter in Ptolemy’s aristeia ὡς δὲ τὸν ἡγεμόνα σφῶν κείμενον οἱ ἀμφ’ αὐτὸν εἶδον (4.24.5). See Bosworth 1996a, 46. 81 Sens 2006, 227. 82 Kirk IV, 63ff.; Kozak 2017, 117 and 265 n. 122.

From Issus to Gaugamela: the ‘anti-Homeric’ Darius  193

canyons and throws away his armor. Both the flight and the throwing-away of the arms constitute ‘anti-Homeric’ behavior, which is stressed even further by the fact that it is depicted in epic language. (b) A further contrast is created with regard to each king’s relationship with his men. Hector is an example to be emulated by the Trojans. Instead of expecting their help, he is the one who inspires them to be equally brave during the battle. By contrast, Darius does not care at all for his troops. As soon as he realizes that his left wing is defeated and isolated from the rest of the army, he flees in the fear that the Macedonians will attack in the middle, where he is himself. (c) This antithesis is not confined to a micro-structure level; in the Anabasis, Hector serves in general as an allusive point of comparison between Alexander and Darius. Alexander is paralleled with Hector twice in the work, both pertaining to his views on the proper attitude in battle. We have already seen that Alexander adopted Hector’s sense of shame before the battle of the Granicus, and, as we will see below, in the Mallian battle scene Alexander will again resemble Hector in the way he will act and speak. Darius’ disgraceful flight (αἰσχρᾷ φυγῇ) will be mentioned by Arrian several times in the rest of the work right up to Darius’ obituary (3.22.2–6).83 His flight will be contrasted to Alexander’s bravery in the siege of Gaza (2.27.2: καὶ τούτους μὲν ἔσχε τὸ μὴ οὐκ αἰσχρᾷ φυγῇ ὠσθῆναι κατὰ τοῦ χώματος) and constitutes the main reason for the voluntary submission of the satrap of Egypt to Alexander (3.1.2). Last but not least, both Darius’ flight here and his second flight in the battle of Gaugamela prove the validity of the authorial comment on the Persian king’s insufficiency in military affairs in ch. 3.22.2. In the Gaugamela account, Arrian again places emphasis upon Darius’ fear in front of the Macedonian phalanx, the only difference now being that Darius does face the Macedonians. He initially tries to encircle the part of the Macedonian army, where Alexander is. The latter, however, proceeding by a clever maneuver to displace the cavalry, breaks the Persian lines and moves against Darius. For a while, a battle starts in close combat, but Darius, as soon as he realizes that the

 83 See Chapter II, pp. 94 and 102. The motif of Darius’ shameful flight must have been a topos in the literature of Alexander. Cf. Curt. 3.11.11: indecore abiectis. On the other hand, D.S. treats Darius in a more lenient manner. He introduces (17.6.1–3) Darius as the bravest among the Persians, while he comments (17.34.6–7) that it was the unfortunate circumstances in Issus that forced Darius “to throw away the dignity of his position and to violate the ancient custom of the Persian kings” (transl. Welles).

194  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Macedonian phalanx has dangerously approached, initiates the Persian flight. Darius’ fear in front of the phalanx is stressed by the following words (3.14.3): ἥ τε φάλαγξ ἡ Μακεδονικὴ πυκνὴ καὶ ταῖς σαρίσσαις πεφρικυῖα ἐμβεβλήκει ἤδη αὐτοῖς, καὶ πάντα ὁμοῦ τὰ δεινὰ καὶ πάλαι ἤδη φοβερῷ ὄντι Δαρείῳ ἐφαίνετο, πρῶτος αὐτὸς ἐπιστρέψας ἔφευγεν. And the Macedonian phalanx, solid and bristling with its pikes, had got to close quarters with them, and Darius, who had now long been in a panic, saw nothing but terrors all around, he was himself the first to turn and flee.

The adjective πυκ(ι)νός and the feminine of the participle πεφρικώς are found in the Iliad only twice. The first instance appears together with the noun φάλαγξ in Il. 4.281–282: δήϊον ἐς πόλεμον πυκιναὶ κίνυντο φάλαγγες κυάνεαι, σάκεσίν τε καὶ ἔγχεσι πεφρικυῖαι. close-compacted of strong and god-supported young fighters, black, and jagged with spear and shield, to the terror of battle.

The second appears next to the noun στίξ in Il. 7.61–62: ἀνδράσι τερπόμενοι· τῶν δὲ στίχες εἵατο πυκναὶ ἀσπίσι καὶ κορύθεσσι καὶ ἔγχεσι πεφρικυῖαι. taking their ease and watching these men whose ranks, dense-settled, shuddered into a bristle of spears, of shields and helmets.

The paraphrase may equally refer to both passages, although it is more likely that Arrian had the first one in mind. Apart from the similarities in his use of the adjective πυκ(ι)νός and the participle πεφρικώς, one may point to one further affinity in the way the participle itself is used on a syntactic level, the fact that it is always accompanied by a dative. What is of great importance here is that Arrian once more depicts Darius’ lack of courage as ‘anti-Homeric’, and once more he does so through echoes of very specific verses from the Iliad. The main point of interest now lies in the quality and the fury of the Macedonian phalanx. In the Issus description, Darius clearly retreated due to his cowardice, without even facing the Macedonians. Here, the reason why he flees is because he is watching the Macedonian forces destroy everything in their wake under the command of Alexander. In this description, there

Alexander against the Malli: pursuing glory by death  195

is a more clear-cut and straightforward antithesis. With Darius’ cowardice is contrasted Alexander’s and his army’s vehemence.84 The two Homeric cross-references of the accounts of Issus and Gaugamela are further indications of what we explained at the beginning of this section: Arrian composed the two narratives to be read together in a close relationship. The two Homeric allusions should be seen as a deliberate pair that stresses the antiheroic nature of Darius. In both cases, the passage from the Iliad is unique and is exploited in order to describe Darius’ escape. The repetition of the scheme from the earlier to the later description renders Darius not only a coward but also a permanent Homeric anti-example, a foil for Alexander as well as for other individuals.85

. Alexander against the Malli: pursuing glory by death This is the last passage in the Anabasis where Alexander appears as an epic hero in battle. The episode culminates in one of Alexander’s most distinctive Homeric features, his desire for a glorious death and a fama postuma. This is also one of the most dramatic points of his career, given that he is heavily injured and faces death. The account unfolds in the following way. After days of pursuit, the Macedonian army has managed to block the Malli in their last and toughest stronghold, a city near the Indian river Hydraotes. Alexander divided his army into two and undertook the command of the one section, while he entrusted the other to Perdiccas. After a while, Alexander and his men left Perdiccas’ section and managed to penetrate the city by rupturing one of the gates in the wall. The enemies, panic-stricken, abandoned the walls and fled into the citadel. In the meantime, Perdiccas and his men started to invade the city. However, they did this after a delay and having been given no order, in the belief that the walls had been totally abandoned (6.9.1–2).

 84 The Persian casualties are also presented with an epic-colored detail (3.14.3: τοῖς ξυστοῖς τὰ πρόσωπα τῶν Περσῶν κόπτοντες). 85 In Book V, in the account of the battle at the Hydaspes, Alexander faces the Indian Porus. Although Porus is defeated, as Darius was, Arrian creates an implicit contrast between the two men. Porus is described in equally heroic colors, i.e. as being a warrior who fills the enemy with awe because of his imposing bearing and his illustrious armor (5.19.1). He is also described as having one further quality: despite his defeat, he does not deign to flee, while he has the courage not only to meet Alexander but also to stand next to him as an equal, a king next to a king. In this context, Arrian overtly compares Darius with Porus (5.18.4).

196  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Watching the Macedonians delaying, Alexander, perhaps in his effort to urge them to act more quickly, took a ladder on his own and started climbing the wall of the citadel. He was followed by some of his men, including Peucestas, Leonnatus, and Abreas (who has his own role in the network of Homeric references of this episode). In the meanwhile, the rest of the Macedonians, afraid that their king was in danger by being exposed on the wall, climbed the ladder in such a hurry that it collapsed and they fell, thus depriving their companions of the opportunity to reach the top of the wall. As a result, the king was left alone on the wall, accompanied only by Peucestas, Leonnatus, and Abreas (6.9.3–4). Alexander is now in grave danger, as he is being attacked from all sides by the Indians and has only his armor and shield as his means of protection. Realizing that he may be killed, he decides to jump inside the wall and to fight the enemy hand-to-hand. He thus makes the jump, starts to fight and kills the first men he finds in his way. His three companions hasten to help him, but Abreas, however, is killed. Alexander is heavily wounded by an arrow in his chest. Peucestas and Leonnatus protect the wounded king, who loses his senses due to intense bleeding, and they soon are also injured. The rest of the Macedonians, seeing their king lying wounded, defenseless and at the mercy of the enemy, make an anguished and desperate attempt to climb the wall to save him. They ascend the wall, stepping on top of each other and with great vigor surround Alexander, around whom a furious battle begins. This is finally won by the Macedonians, who occupy the citadel and, furious at the wounding of their king, slaughter the city’s entire population, including the women and children (6.9.5–11.1). This account is full of heroic elements. Alexander again appears to be an epic πρόμος, while he is recognizable to his enemies due to the shine of his armor and an excess of courage (6.9.5). The description of his hand-to-hand fight against the Malli is also rich in detail in describing the weaponry used (6.9.6: ξίφει / λίθῳ / ξίφει αὖθις). Modern scholarship has already discussed all these epic features, with the strongest epic coloring being present in the passage where Arrian penetrates Alexander’s mind at the moment the latter realizes that his life is in danger.86 The passage is as follows (6.9.5): ἔγνω δὲ ὅτι αὐτοῦ μὲν μένων κινδυνεύσει μηδὲν ὅ τι καὶ λόγου ἄξιον ἀποδεικνύμενος, καταπηδήσας δὲ εἴσω τοῦ τείχους τυχὸν μὲν αὐτῷ τούτῳ ἐκπλήξει τοὺς Ἰνδούς, εἰ δὲ μή, καὶ κινδυνεύειν δέοι, μεγάλα ἔργα καὶ τοῖς ἔπειτα πυθέσθαι ἄξια ἐργασάμενος οὐκ ἀσπουδεὶ ἀποθανεῖται—ταῦτα γνοὺς καταπηδᾷ ἀπὸ τοῦ τείχους ἐς τὴν ἄκραν.

 86 Cf. AAA II, 531; Muckensturm-Poulle 2010, 277–279.

Alexander against the Malli: pursuing glory by death  197

He decided that by remaining where he was he would be in danger, while not even performing any deed of note, but if he leapt down within the wall he might perhaps by this very action strike the Indians with panic but, if not and danger was inevitable, he might do great deeds, worth hearing to men of later generations, and that glory would attend his death. On this decision he leapt down from the wall into the citadel.

As scholars have observed, Alexander’s thoughts resemble Hector’s words in Il. 22.304–305: μὴ μὰν ἀσπουδί γε καὶ ἀκλειῶς ἀπολοίμην, ἀλλὰ μέγα ῥέξας τι καὶ ἐσσομένοισι πυθέσθαι. Let me at least not die without a struggle, inglorious, But do some big thing first, that men to come shall know of it.

In what follows, by pointing out some unmentioned resemblances between the two passages and comparing Arrian’s account with those of Plutarch and Diodorus, we will try to answer to the following questions: (a) What is the exact nature of the stylistic loans from Homer? (b) To what degree can we discern whether Arrian is here being innovative or is following an already consolidated tradition of associating Alexander with Hector with regard to this incident? And (c) how did Arrian’s choice to color his account in an epicizing way affect his handling of his sources? Although scholarly interest has previously focused only on the adverb ἀσπουδ(ε)ί,87 there is one further Homeric element that is of particular significance for the way Arrian made use of the Iliad here. This is the verb ἐρείδω. Arrian uses the aorist participle ἐρείσας (6.9.4) and the indicative of the passive aorist ἐρείσθη (6.9.6). In the Iliad, these forms of the verb appear only in Book XXII, in the episode of the fight between Achilles and Hector (Il. 22.97: ἀσπίδ’ ἐρείσας and Il. 22.112: δόρυ δὲ πρὸς τεῖχος ἐρείσας being used of Hector, and Il. 22.225: ἐπὶ μελίης χαλκογλώχινος ἐρεισθείς being used of Achilles), a fact that strengthens the view that these forms in Arrian’s account are deliberate Homeric allusions. These loans, alongside the ἀσπουδί verses, make the echoes of Hector’s deeds in Book XXII more emphatic. The same verb (ἐρείδω) in a compound form (with προσ-) is also found in Plutarch’s (Alex. 63.9: προσήρεισε τῷ τείχει τὸ σῶμα) and Diodorus’ (17.98.5: κλίμακα καὶ τοῖς τῆς ἄκρας τείχεσι προσερείσας) accounts of Alexander and the Malli (cf. Il. 22.112: δόρυ δὲ πρὸς τεῖχος ἐρείσας). Of course, the presence of the  87 Cf. AAA I, 531; Muckensturm-Poulle 2010, 278. Cf. Stadter 1980, 112 and 223 n. 39, who, however, offers only the translation of the text.

198  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero verb may have merely emerged from the content itself, since there are plenty of examples in Attic prose where this verb can be found in a similar context. This is also suggested by the fact that Plutarch and Diodorus reconcile the verb with the norms of Attic prose (compound form + dative).88 However, the presence of the verb in all three authors surely allows for the view that there had possibly been a common source, which used this vocabulary in the Homeric manner of Book XXII of the Iliad. There are further indications that Arrian is intentionally echoing the Iliadic episode. First, differently from Plutarch and Diodorus, he respects the Homeric syntactic use of the verb by avoiding the prefix προσ-. Second, he also composes a picture similar to that where Hector raises his shield (6.9.4: ἐρείσας … τὴν ἀσπίδα // Il. 22.97: ἀσπίδ’ ἐρείσας). The ἐρείσας and ἐρεισθείς, lying close to the clear-cut back-reference to Hector’s words, must have struck an educated audience that was particularly familiar with the text of the Iliad as being especially deliberate. A tradition of Homeric depictions of this crucial moment in Alexander’s career had already been shaped. Moreover, it is equally possible that this very tradition associated Alexander’s deeds and words with those of Hector, on this occasion at least if not also elsewhere. Plutarch seems to have abandoned this parallel, using instead Achilles as Alexander’s benchmark. In his description of the same episode, Plutarch writes: τιναξαμένου δὲ τοῖς ὅπλοις ἔδοξαν οἱ βάρβαροι σέλας τι καὶ φάσμα πρὸ τοῦ σώματος φέρεσθαι. διὸ καὶ τὸ πρῶτον ἔφυγον καὶ διεσκεδάσθησαν. Then, as he brandished his arms, the barbarians thought that a shape of gleaming fire played in front of his person. Therefore at first they scattered and fled.89

The light (σέλας) of war that causes the combatants’ fear is also Homeric in origin (Il. 8.75–77). Especially in scenes where the light comes from a hero or his armor, the word σέλας is confined exclusively to portrayals of Achilles (Il. 18.214; 19.15– 17; 19.366–385). By contrast, Arrian seems to have followed a traditional association of Alexander not with Achilles, as was once believed,90 but with Hector. More importantly, he did this by using more striking connections to the Homeric text: (a) as we saw, he preferred the Homeric use of the verb ἐρείδω; (b) although critics  88 D.S. 14.103.4; 33.17.3; Plb. 8.4.8; 8.37.7; 15.33.4. 89 Transl. Perrin. 90 AAA I, XLI.

Alexander against the Malli: pursuing glory by death  199

focus more on the adverb ἀσπουδ(ε)ί, we have something more here, namely an allusion to the couplet Il. 22.304–305. The similarities suggestive of this view are the following: Il. .–

Arr. An. ..

1. μὴ μὰν ἀσπουδί

οὐκ ἀσπουδεί

2. ἀπολοίμην

ἀποθανεῖται

3. μέγα ῥέξας τι

μεγάλα ἔργα … ἐργασάμενος

4. ἐσσομένοισι

τοῖς ἔπειτα

5. πυθέσθαι

πυθέσθαι ἄξια

Also, there is the fact that (c) Arrian follows the Homeric ring composition that frames Hector’s thoughts (Il. 22.296: Ἕκτωρ δ’ ἔγνω – Il. 22.306: Ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας // 6.9.5: ἔγνω δέ … ταῦτα γνούς); and (d) although the presence of the sword in Arrian (τῷ ξίφει) is a typical part of detailed Homeric descriptions of weaponry, its very positioning after Alexander’s thoughts may deliberately echo the verse that immediately follows Hector’s words ὣς ἄρα φωνήσας εἰρύσσατο φάσγανον ὀξύ. As transpires from the comparison of Arrian’s account with the Homeric elements in Plutarch and Diodorus, it can credibly be argued that, at least in terms of content, Arrian consciously drew from an earlier tradition. Now, as far as possible stylistic innovations are concerned, we cannot distinguish with certainty what Arrian owes to his sources from what he added himself. But in any case, the dexterity with which he generally uses epic phrases and patterns in the Anabasis allows for the possibility that some of the Homerisms in this case may well have been his own innovations. Significant in this respect may be a comparison with the Granicus account. As we saw above, in this episode Arrian not only composed a Homeric transition from the general picture of a battle to the aristeia of an individual, but he also kept the epic structure and phrasing of those transitions. There, the transition seems to be Arrian’s creation, since both parts of it (ἵπποι τε ἵπποις καὶ ἄνδρες ἀνδράσιν and ἔνθα δή) are also distinctive features of Arrian’s prose.91 In the case of the Malli, we can discern a similar focus on Homeric structural schemes, such as the ring composition framing Hector’s thoughts. Thus in light of the Granicus

 91 As for ἵπποι τε ἵπποις καὶ ἄνδρες ἀνδράσιν, cf. πόνους τε ἐκ πόνων καὶ κινδύνους ἐκ κινδύνων (5.25.2). The introductory ἔνθα is very common in the Anabasis.

200  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero account, the Mallian narrative must also have contained some of Arrian’s innovations, in his effort again to keep up the Homeric style. The safest conclusion is that in this case Arrian followed a tradition of associations between Alexander and Homeric heroes, very possibly introducing his own stylistic choices. Most importantly, Alexander’s association with Hector in the Mallian episode is further proof of the main argument of this chapter: Arrian did not confine his portraiture of the Macedonian king to the narrow limits of his identification with Achilles. Now, it is equally interesting to examine to what degree the emphasis on the Homeric flavor of the episode affected the way Arrian made use of his sources. In the paragraphs following the description of Alexander’s aristeia, Arrian undertakes a digression in which he tries to correct some points of misinformation. His aim in so doing, he says, is to restore the truth once and for all (6.11.2). Arrian here proclaims the authority of his work, a proclamation intensified by the Thucydidean echo ἀταλαίπωρον at the end of the digression (6.11.8; cf. Th. 1.20.3). This verbal loan suggests that the Anabasis was the result of assiduous research and sound acumen, while simultaneously inviting its readers to be equally careful and prudent when reading such stories. In particular, Arrian touches upon three subjects. First, the details on the number and the gravity of Alexander’s wounds: while many say that Alexander received first a blow on his head, Arrian follows Ptolemy’s version that the king was hurt only in the chest. We can observe a contrast between the many unreliable historians and the dependable Ptolemy (6.11.7). This contrast, resembling the first proem, betrays Arrian’s intention to convince his readers of the reliability of his account. There is a similar juxtaposition on two further topics, first on the exact place of the battle and second on whether Ptolemy was present or not. While some wrote that Ptolemy was the one who removed the arrow from Alexander’s chest, Ptolemy himself explains that at that very moment he was conquering other tribes elsewhere (6.11.8).92 In comparison with his punctilio on these details, Arrian’s indifference as regards the accuracy of his information in the case of Abreas is striking. Although Arrian admits that it is not clear whether Abreas stood by Alexander or not (6.11.7), he still takes advantage of the testimonies by including this man in the episode in order to compose a clearly Homeric picture of his death (6.10.1): “shot with an arrow in the face” (τοξευθεὶς ἐς τὸ πρόσωπον). Abreas’ case characteristically exemplifies the way in which Arrian’s intention to color his account with epic shades was reconciled with his need for accuracy.  92 For this passage, see also Stadter 1980, 70.

Alexander mourning Hephaestion and Achilles mourning Patroclus  201

. Alexander mourning Hephaestion and Achilles mourning Patroclus Hephaestion’s death is the final climactic episode in the Anabasis before Alexander’s death.93 The description of Alexander’s mourning is given mostly in indirect speech, being presented as a series of rumors and hearsay. As we have already seen in the Second Preface and the Mallian episode, the presence of Homeric allusions in narrations of rumors and anecdotes is typical in Arrian, and his purposes vary from case to case. In this unit, we will examine the criteria and reasons that Arrian categorizes the anecdotes on Alexander’s mourning of Hephaestion’s death, and thereby we will try to interpret the Homeric nature of the text. Arrian opens his narration with the typical words ἔνθα δὴ καὶ ἄλλοι ἄλλα ἀνέγραψαν (7.14.2), which, just as in the First Preface and with Alexander’s aristeia against the Malli, show to the reader that Arrian will adopt a critical and scrutinizing attitude towards the information he will report. This preparation of the reader is immediately confirmed, as Arrian hastens to make clear that those who circulated many of these anecdotes were not motivated by their need to discover and disseminate the truth, but by their desire to accuse or absolve Alexander of improprieties he committed in his immoderate sorrow for the death of his friend (7.14.2–3). With this in mind, following a pejorative opening phrase and summary of his low assessment of these historians’ motives, Arrian records the information

 93 On Book VII as a continuous, escalating preparation of the reader for Alexander’s death, see previous chapter, pp. 139–143. The account of Hephaestion’s death is particularly interesting for what it tells us about Arrian’s perspective. His silence regarding Alexander’s most beloved friend is striking throughout the work, but especially at this point, where one would expect at least a farewell comment for this man. Other individuals, less significant in Alexander’s life, enjoy the laudatory comments of Arrian when they die. The insignificant Aristonicus is praised for his talent on the lyre and his bravery in battle (4.16.7). Even non-Greeks, such as the Brahmin Calanus, are praised in digressions and comments recapitulating their lives and virtues (7.3.1–6). As we saw in Chapter II, Arrian pays tribute even to the most anti-heroic character of the Anabasis, Darius, in the chapters of his ‘obituary’, concluding that Darius was a just and peaceable king (3.22.2–6). By contrast, in Hepaestion’s case, Arrian is content to offer just three lines as it is printed in the Teubner text and with a temporal compression of the week during which Hephaestion was lying on the bed up to his death (7.14.1). This sense of indifference becomes even more intense if compared with the detailed and extensive report of Alexander’s illness, as printed across three pages of the Teubner edition (7.25.1–27.3). Although Arrian is not expected to be equally interested in Hephaestion’s death, the absence of any comments should be deemed deliberate. Arrian’s neglect of Alexander’s relationship with Hephaestion perhaps reflects his unwillingness to touch upon a subject closely related to Alexander’s alleged homosexuality.

202  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero on Alexander’s mourning, information that can be categorized in the following way: (a) Stories that Arrian neither accepts nor rejects. This material concerns the time Alexander remained lying over Hephaestion’s body and his decision to execute Glaucias, the doctor who was deemed responsible for Hephaestion’s death (7.14.3–4). (b) Those stories that depict Alexander as imitating Achilles (cutting off his hair, etc.), which Arrian accepts, in the belief that Alexander may well have wanted to honor Hephaestion by imitating Achilles (7.14.4).94 (c) Rumors that present Alexander as behaving like a madman and in a hubristic fashion. The king is said to have ordered the temple of Asclepius at Ecbatana to be razed to the ground. Arrian rejects this information because, in his opinion, this deed does not fit well with Alexander’s character. It resembles instead Xerxes’ whipping of the Hellespont (7.14.5). (d) Information offered by all sources. In light of Arrian’s statement in the First Preface that stories related by the majority of sources should be deemed more trustworthy, we may conclude that Arrian indeed believes such anecdotes on Alexander’s mourning. These anecdotes are the following: Alexander mourns for three days without eating; he orders the barbarians to participate in the mourning; he does not change the name of Hephaestion’s chiliarchy; and he plans to hold athletic and musical games in honor of Hephaestion (7.14.8–10). At first glance it might seem that Arrian aims here to distinguish historical truth from fictive stories. However, if we look closer at Arrian’s categorization of the anecdotes, we will see that the criterion by which he accepts or rejects the sources in this case is not only the degree to which they are mostly or altogether in agreement with each other, but also whether they portray Alexander in a positive or a negative fashion. Stories that present the king as behaving like a madman, disrespectful to the gods, or arrogant towards men, are rejected, while those which stress his pain and piety and thereby cause the readers’ sympathy and admiration are accepted. In this spirit, Arrian seems to accept an anecdote that draws a parallel between Alexander’s love for Hephaestion and Achilles’ love for Patroclus. On his way to Babylon, Alexander meets envoys from many Greek cities, including Epidaurus. According to the sources, Alexander satisfied the Epidaurians’ requests and gave them a votive offering to take back to Asclepius, telling them (7.14.6):  94 Cf. 7.16.8.

Alexander mourning Hephaestion and Achilles mourning Patroclus  203

καίπερ οὐκ ἐπιεικῶς κέχρηταί μοι ὁ Ἀσκληπιός, οὐ σώσας μοι τὸν ἑταῖρον ὅντινα ἴσον τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ κεφαλῇ ἦγον. Yet Asclepius has not been kind to me, in failing to save for me the comrade whom I valued as much as my life.

This anecdote demonstrates Alexander’s love for Hephaestion and his respect for the gods even during hard times in his life. Arrian invites us here to sympathize with Alexander and admire him for his piety and his resignation in the face of adversity. In this way, this episode is used by Arrian as a counterargument against those who claim that Alexander had been disrespectful to Asclepius. What is more, as in the case of the Malli, the culmination of the epic elements in Alexander’s words to the Epidaurians matches with a superficial respect for Arrian’s historiographical conscientiousness. Sisti has pointed out the Homeric character of Alexander’s phrasing ἴσον τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ κεφαλῇ, which echoes Achilles’ words ἶσον ἐμῇ κεφαλῇ in Il. 18.82.95 Some further observations are worth mentioning in this light. (a) This phrase is found only twice in the Homeric epics and always in relation to Achilles (Il. 18.82 in Achilles’ words, and Od. 11.557: ἶσον Ἀχιλλῆος κεφαλῇ Πηληϊάδαο in Odysseus’ words), which strengthens Sisti’s view that Arrian is trying to identify Alexander with Achilles. (b) The phrase appears twice in the epics, referring to Achilles, and twice in the Anabasis, always in Alexander’s words. (c) This moment is the culmination of a distinct pattern in the work, Alexander’s respect for companionship. (d) Alexander’s words resemble Achilles’ in terms of the context as well. Although the phrase is also found in the Odyssey, Arrian is no doubt imitating Achilles’ words to his mother not only in Il. 18.82 but in the immediately earlier sequence of lines Il. 18.79–82: μῆτερ ἐμή, τὰ μὲν ἄρ μοι Ὀλύμπιος ἐξετέλεσσεν· ἀλλὰ τί μοι τῶν ἦδος ἐπεὶ φίλος ὤλεθ’ ἑταῖρος Πάτροκλος, τὸν ἐγὼ περὶ πάντων τῖον ἑταίρων ἶσον ἐμῇ κεφαλῇ. My mother, all these things the Olympian brought to accomplishment. But what pleasure is this to me, since my dear companion has perished, Patroclus, whom I loved beyond all other companions, as well as my own life.

 95 ΑΑΑ ΙΙ, 609.

204  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero In both cases, a hero is complaining to a god for not protecting his friend. In the Iliad, Achilles’ mother Thetis urges him to be happy, because Zeus fulfilled his desire to see the Trojans defeat the Greeks up to their ships. Achilles answers that the god helped him but deprived him in this way of his best friend. Accordingly, Alexander complains that Asclepius did not save Hephaestion. Just as with the epic loans in the battles of the Granicus, Issus, Gaugamela, and against the Malli, Arrian seems here to place the Homeric words in a context similar to the environment within which these words are used in the epics. We may well ask whether the phrase ἴσον τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ κεφαλῇ is Arrian’s own innovation or whether it already existed in his sources. Hephaestion’s death and Alexander’s imitation of Achilles must have very possibly allowed for the composition of stories on the basis of the Iliad on both a thematic and a stylistic level. Yet, certain affinities between this case and the examples examined above indicate that the phrase was placed at this specific point by Arrian himself. First, our examination has proved so far that Arrian’s method is to use such Homeric scenes and loans of rare verses or phrases only in the description of central events. The use of Achilles’ words in the account of Hephaestion’s death accords to this rule. Second, both Alexander’s words before the battle of the Granicus and the transition from the general picture of the battle to the aristieia of an individual are Arrian’s own additions. We can also reach the same conclusion with regard to the two loans of the unique Iliadic verses describing Darius’ flight in the Issus and Gaugamela accounts. In the first case, the way in which the verb ἐνέκυρσε is used (verb + dative of parts of a landscape) is also found in Arrian’s Indikē (20.2.: χώρῃ … ἐγκύρσαντες; 22.6: κύμασι … ἐνέκυρσαν καὶ τῇ θαλάσσῃ; 32.12: γῇ ἐγκύρσειαν). In Darius’ escape from Gaugamela, the phrase πυκνὴ φάλαγξ is equally common in Arrian.96 We can therefore argue with relative certainty that in the first three battle descriptions the loans of specific lines and phrases from the Iliad should be attributed to Arrian. The phrase ἴσον τῇ ἐμαυτοῦ κεφαλῇ is equally likely to be his own addition. Third, as testified by the passages examined so far, the resemblance of Alexander’s words and thoughts with those of a Homeric hero is typical in Arrian, and some of these examples can safely be considered as his own additions. In this

 96 1.1.7; 1.2.6; 1.6.6; 2.9.3; 3.14.3; 5.16.2; 5.17.3; 5.17.7; 5.22.7; 6.7.4; 6.8.6; Arr. Tact. 11.1.

Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  205

respect, Alexander’s words and deeds in the Mallian episode and Hephaestion’s death may also be attributed to Arrian.97

. Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages Was Arrian influenced by the literary trends of his age in the way he exploited Homeric elements in his work? We know that the use of poetic discourse in prose genres such as rhetoric and historiography occupied to a great degree the minds of the intellectuals of the Imperial period.98 Arrian, being both a politician and a historian, is closely connected to both historiography and rhetoric. For this reason it would be useful to contextualize our investigation of the Homeric allusions in the Anabasis within the framework of its intellectual environment. As for the methodological principles of the Second Sophistic prose writers in their use of poetic elements, we can discern in some authors a tendency towards a narrowing of vocabulary and a special care given to the appropriateness of the occasion.99 In his satirical portrait The Teacher of Rhetoric, Lucian makes fun of a sophist who tries to teach his student how to use Attic vocabulary in a speech. Lucian presents the teacher as expressing the following views (Rh. Pr. 16–17): ἔπειτα πεντεκαίδεκα ἢ οὐ πλείω γε τῶν εἴκοσιν Ἀττικὰ ὀνόματα ἐκλέξας ποθὲν ἀκριβῶς ἐκμελετήσας, πρόχειρα ἐπ’ ἄκρας τῆς γλώττης ἔχε—τὸ ἄττα καὶ κᾆτα καὶ μῶν καὶ ἀμηγέπη καὶ λῷστε καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα, —καὶ ἐν ἅπαντι λόγῳ καθάπερ τι ἥδυσμα ἐπίπαττε αὐτῶν. μελέτω δὲ μηδὲν τῶν ἄλλων, εἰ ἀνόμοια τούτοις καὶ ἀσύμφυλα καὶ ἀπῳδά. ἡ πορφύρα μόνον ἔστω καλὴ καὶ εὐανθής, κἂν σισύρα τῶν παχειῶν τὸ ἱμάτιον ᾖ. μέτει δὲ ἀπόρρητα καὶ ξένα ῥήματα, σπανιάκις ὑπὸ τῶν πάλαι εἰρημένα, καὶ ταῦτα συμφορήσας ἀποτόξευε προχειριζόμενος εἰς τοὺς προσομιλοῦντας. Then cull from some source or other fifteen, or anyhow not more than twenty Attic words, drill yourself carefully in them, and have them ready at the tip of your tongue – ‘sundry,’ ‘eftsoons,’ ‘prithee,’ ‘in some wise,’ ‘fair sir,’ and the like. Whenever you speak, sprinkle in some of them as a relish. Never mind if the rest is inconsistent with them, unrelated, and discordant. Only let your purple stripe be handsome and bright, even if your cloak is but a

 97 Cf. the phrase ὑμεῖς σατράπαι, ὑμεῖς στρατηγοί, ὑμεῖς ταξιάρχαι in Alexander’s speech to the Macedonians (7.9.8), which echoes the ἐμοὶ πατρίς τε καὶ γένος καὶ ἀρχαὶ οἵδε οἱ λόγοι εἰσί of the Second Preface (1.12.5). See Bosworth 1988a, 104, n. 49. 98 Cf. further Whitmarsh 2005, 53ff. 99 Whitmarsh 2005, ibid.

206  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero blanket of the thickest sort. Hunt up obscure, unfamiliar words, rarely used by the ancients, and have a heap of these in readiness to launch at your audience.100

In these lines, we can discern Lucian’s views on the appropriate use of archaisms, in this case those of Attic words. His views may be regarded as being the diametrical opposite of those expressed by the satirized rhetorician: (a) the words to be used should not sound unfamiliar to the ordinary user of language; (b) the archaisms should carry a specific message and should not be empty of content; and c) they should be used for a purpose and not merely to enthuse and fascinate the audience. Although this example concerns the use of vocabulary deriving from classical prose writers, the following text suggests that a similar attitude can also be seen with the use of poetic words and schemes. In the Ars Rhetorica of PseudoDionysius of Halicarnassus, we read (Rh. 10.10): ἔτι κἀκεῖνο πλημμέλημα ἐν τῇ λέξει τὸ ὑπὸ φιλοτιμίας πᾶσι χρῆσθαι τοῖς εἰρημένοις ὀνόμασι πανταχοῦ, τὸν καιρὸν μὴ προστιθέντα, οἷον λέγω ἱστορικόν που ὄνομα, διαλεκτικόν, ποιητικόν, ἐκ τραγῳδίας ἢ κωμῳδίας φθέγγεσθαι ὄνομα. ἔστιν δὲ τοῦτο παιδείας μὲν ἴσως ἔνδειξις, χρήσεως δὲ ἀπειρία. […] οὐχ ὡς οὐκ ἔστι που καὶ διαλεκτικὸν ὄνομα καὶ ἱστορικὸν καὶ ποιητικὸν ἐν τοῖς πολιτικοῖς βυβλίοις, ἀλλ’ ἐπίστασθαι δεῖ καὶ τὸν καιρὸν τῆς χρήσεως καὶ τὴν διοίκησιν. ἔστιν δὲ ὁ μὲν καιρὸς ἐκεῖνος, ὅταν ἐναργέστερόν τι ὄνομα ᾖ ἀπὸ ποιήσεως ἢ διαλεκτικῆς ἢ ἱστορικῆς, χρῆσθαι, ὡς ὁ ῥήτωρ, πρὸς τὴν ἐνέργειαν. ἡ δὲ διοίκησις ἐκείνη, τὸ προεξηγήσασθαι καὶ τοῖς προταχθεῖσιν ἢ ἐπιφερομένοις οὖσι γνωρίμοις ἀφανίσαι τὴν καινότητα τοῦ ὀνόματος καὶ ὁμολογίᾳ χρῆσθαι τοῦ τὸ ῥῆμα ἐξ ἄλλης ἰδέας λόγων εἶναι· ἱκανὴ γὰρ ὁμολογία καὶ παραμυθία τῆς καινότητος. It is a linguistic inconcinnity when, out of overambitiousness, you use all kinds of words all over the place, with no respect for the proper occasion: I mean, for example, using a word from history, dialectic, or poetry (tragedy or comedy). This may be a display of education, but it also shows a lack of sophistication in execution. [. . .] It is not that a word from dialectic, history, or poetry is impossible in political writing, but one has to understand the proper occasion for the usage, and also the way to handle it. The proper occasion to use it, as an orator, is in the service of vividness, when the word from poetry, dialectic, or history is more vivid. The way of handling it is to prepare the way for it in advance, and to disguise the innovation of the word by means of familiar words arranged before or after it, and to make the fact that the language is from another genre of oratory relevant; for relevance is enough, and compensates for innovation.101

Similarly, in his How to Write History, Lucian criticizes prose historians who mix poetic (mostly Homeric) embellishments into their accounts (Hist. Conscr. 22):  100 Transl. Harmon. 101 Transl. Whitmarsh 2005.

Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  207

τοὺς δὲ καὶ ποιητικοῖς ὀνόμασιν, ὦ καλὲ Φίλων, ἐν ἱστορίᾳ χρωμένους, ποῦ δ’ ἄν τις θείη, τοὺς λέγοντας, “ἐλέλιξε μὲν ἡ μηχανή, τὸ τεῖχος δὲ πεσὸν μεγάλως ἐδούπησε,” καὶ πάλιν ἐν ἑτέρῳ μέρει τῆς καλῆς ἱστορίας, “Ἔδεσσα μὲν δὴ οὕτω τοῖς ὅπλοις περιεσμαραγεῖτο καὶ ὄτοβος ἦν καὶ κόναβος ἅπαντα ἐκεῖνα” καὶ “ὁ στρατηγὸς ἐμερμήριζεν ᾧ τρόπῳ μάλιστα προσαγάγοι πρὸς τὸ τεῖχος.” And where, my dear Philo, are we to put those who use poetic words in their history, who say “The siege-engine whirled, the wall fell with a big thud,” and again in another part of this fine work, “Edessa thus was girt with the crash of arms and all was clangor and alarum,” and “the general mused how best to attack the wall.”102

However, Lucian admits that there is no harm in employing poetic schemes, as long as the historian does so in a modest way and always aiming at the appropriateness of the occasion (Hist. Conscr. 8–9): μέγα τοίνυν — μᾶλλον δὲ ὑπέρμεγα τοῦτο κακόν — εἰ μὴ εἰδείη τις χωρίζειν τὰ ἱστορίας καὶ τὰ ποιητικῆς, ἀλλ’ ἐπεισάγοι τῇ ἱστορίᾳ τὰ τῆς ἑτέρας κομμώματα — τὸν μῦθον καὶ τὸ ἐγκώμιον καὶ τὰς ἐν τούτοις ὑπερβολάς. […] Καὶ οὐ τοῦτό φημι, ὡς οὐχὶ καὶ ἐπαινετέον ἐν ἱστορίᾳ ἐνίοτε. ἀλλ’ ἐν καιρῷ τῷ προσήκοντι ἐπαινετέον καὶ μέτρον ἐπακτέον τῷ πράγματι, τὸ μὴ ἐπαχθὲς τοῖς ὕστερον ἀναγνωσομένοις αὐτά, καὶ ὅλως πρὸς τὰ ἔπειτα κανονιστέον τὰ τοιαῦτα, ἅπερ μικρὸν ὕστερον ἐπιδείξομεν. So it is a great deal – all too great a fault – not to know how to keep the attributes of history and poetry separate, and to bring poetry’s embellishments into history – myth and eulogy and the exaggeration of both. […] I do not say that there is no room for occasional praise in history. But it must be given at the proper time and kept within reasonable limits to avoid displeasing future readers. In general such matters should be controlled with a view to what posterity demands.

Lucian’s thoughts are of particular interest for the logic of the placement of the homerically charged passages in Arrian. Apart from stylistic matters, Lucian takes an interest in the goals of epic poetry and historiography. While poetry aims to praise individuals, historiography should focus on preserving and disseminating the truth. These views are closely connected to the Anabasis, because, as we read in his Second Preface, Arrian was well aware of the fact that Homer’s Iliad was nothing but the praise of heroes, while he often uses epic language in order to praise Alexander. Nonetheless, as sundry other passages suggest, he was equally aware of the fact that the Anabasis, despite its laudatory dimension, should meet the specifications of a more demanding readership with regard to the validity of the material included. In this respect, it is worth examining

 102 For Lucian’s Hist. Conscr. I use Kiburn’s translation.

208  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero whether Arrian attempted to control his desire to praise Alexander in an epic way for the sake of historical reliability.103 We should not seek an immediate relationship between the Anabasis and the passages just quoted. These examples merely delineate the intellectual context, within which Arrian is to be seen as employing the poetic discourse in his work, and they will help us examine whether he embraced such views. After all, as he testifies, he was taught similar instructions on the proper use of archaisms by his teacher Epictetus (Arr. Epict. 3.9.14).104 What is left to elucidate is whether Arrian followed contemporary trends concerning the narrowing of vocabulary and the degree of care given to the appropriate occasion. In what follows, it is argued that Arrian attempted to limit the use of Homeric language and themes and was indeed fully aware of when and why he should use them in his account. It will be demonstrated that Arrian, in using the Homeric style in his work, took into consideration the following criteria:

.. Stylistic purposes The following table illustrates the Homeric vocabulary in the Anabasis in comparison with the rest of the surviving works of Arrian and the works of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon: Homeric word

Occurrences in the Anabasis

Chapters

Occurrences in other works

Occurrences in Hdt., Th., and X.

. ἀσπουδεί



..

—

—

. ἐγκύρω



..; ..

Indikē: 

Hdt.: 

. ἕδος



..; ..

—

—

. εἴλω



..

—

—

. ἐπέοικα



..; ..; ..; ..

Indikē: ; Tactica: — 

. ἐπικερτομέω



..

—

Hdt.: 

. ἐρείδω



..; ..; ..

—

Hdt.: 

 103 See also Liotsakis 2019a (forthcoming). 104 Cf. Whitmarsh 2005, 47. Although modern scholarship has tended to neglect signs of Stoic doctrines in the Anabasis (see, for example, the hesitation of Brunt 1976), Burliga’s (2013) recent study convincingly offers an alternative reading of the work in this respect.

Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  209

Homeric word

Occurrences in the Anabasis

Chapters

Occurrences in other works

Occurrences in Hdt., Th., and X.

. ἐφομαρτέω



..; ..; ..; ..

Cynēgeticus: ; Fragmenta de rebus physicis: 

—

. θαμβέω



..

Indikē: 

Hdt.: 105

10. κεραΐζω



..

—

Hdt.: 

. κνέφας



..

—

X.: 

. μῆνις



..; ..; ..; ..

Bithynicorum Fragmenta: ;

Hdt.: 

. ὁδίτης



..

—

—

. περισταδόν



..

—

Hdt.: ; Th.: 106

. σκόλοψ



..

—

Hdt.: ; X.: 

. φάος



..; ..; ..

—

X.: 

. φρίττω



..

—

—

Total:  words

Total:  occurrences

First, with regard to Homeric vocabulary, phrases, allusions and specific quotations, most of them are concentrated in the seven turning points of the plot (1. route to Troy/Second Preface; 2. the battle of the Granicus; 3. the battle of Issus; 4. the battle of Gaugamela; 5. the battle of the Hydaspes; 6. Alexander’s injury during the siege of the Malli; and 7. Alexander’s mourning of Hephaestion). These central points of the Anabasis, although covering altogether only 15% of the whole work (59 out of 390 pages in the Teubner edition), encompass all the paraphrases of epic lines, 33% of the vocabulary, 50% of the hapax legomena (ἀσπουδεί, εἴλω, κεραΐζω, περισταδόν, φρίττω), and most of the more sophisticated Homeric phrases. Arrian was cautious as to where to put his most striking Homerisms. The more crucial the episode, the more sophisticated the epic style of the Anabasis. As for the other occasions where Arrian uses Homeric words, we can observe that: (a) five words (ἐγκύρω, ἐπέοικα, ἐφορματέω, μῆνις, and φάος) comprise Arrian’s stylistic habit. ἐγκύρω is used in the paraphrase in the battle description of

 105 Cf. also θάμβος in Th. 6.31.6 (Smith 1900, 73). 106 For a parallel treatment of Hdt., Th., and Arr. in this case, see Smith 1900, 74.

210  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Issus, but on the second occasion it is merely a stylistic choice, perhaps borrowed from Herodotus, as is also indicated by its frequency in the Indikē, where Arrian reproduces the Herodotean Ionic dialect. μῆνις is used only in the route to Troy as an additional Homeric echo, while in the rest of the cases it is used, stereotypically, as an expression for divine anger. φάος does not carry any epic coloring; it is always used in temporal expressions (2.11.6: ἔστε μὲν φάος ἦν; 3.15.3: ἔστε φάος ἦν; 3.18.6: πρὶν φάους), a use found also in X. Cyr. 4.2.8 and 4.2.26 (ἔτι φάους ὄντος). There are also ἕδος, ἐπικερτομέω, κνέφας, ὁδίτης, and σκόλοψ, which are all stylistic embellishments, without contributing to the heroic flavoring of the descriptions in which they are found. All these examples should not necessarily be taken as Arrian’s decision to offer an epic coloring to his narrative. They are merely aesthetic choices. Arrian chose to use Homeric language to give his text an epic dress only in the seven pivotal events, the only exception being the verb θαμβέω, which is used in the minor Homeric scene of the Indians’ astonishment at the awesomeness of Alexander and his armor (5.1.4). Arrian is thus proven to be very careful with both the quantity of the epic vocabulary and the occasions on which he used it.

.. Generic limitations Another criterion through which Arrian must have defined the appropriateness of the occasion for using Homeric elements concerns the kind of Homerisms used in each literary genre. In Second Sophistic circles, to quote, whether verbatim or not, specific verses from the epics for didactic purposes was a common practice, of which Arrian was well aware, as is evident in his other works. We have already seen that in Cyn. 35.1–3 Arrian advises his readers to sacrifice to Artemis, if they want their dogs to be healthy and their hunting to be successful. As an additional argument for this piece of advice he cites Il. 23.859f., 12.210f. and 12.225. He offers the exempla of Teucrus’ failure in the athletic competition in honor of Patroclus due to his neglect to sacrifice to Apollo, as well as pointing out Hector’s regret at not paying attention to the divine signs, despite Polydamas’ admonitions (Cyn. 36.1–3). In the same context, Arrian also almost quotes verbatim Il. 4.408 (πειθόμενοι τεράεσσι θεῶν καὶ Ζηνὸς ἀρωγῇ) (ibid. 36.2). In his Tactica, in his effort to argue that the best thing for an army to do in a battle is to keep silent in order to be able to follow the commanders’ orders, he cites Il. 3.1–8 and 4.428, interpreting these verses as being Homer’s effort to juxtapose the Achaeans’ order and the Trojans’ disorder in battle (Tact. 31.5-6). Apart from the exploitation of

Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  211

Homeric exempla, in his Periplus he sometimes refers to Homeric verses by quoting a part of a line, as he does for the sake of ἐνάργεια in the description of the natural environment, specifically the sea and rivers (Peripl. M. Eux. 3.2 = Od. 5.469; Peripl. M. Eux. 8.2 = Il. 2.754). In the Anabasis there are no such examples of this type of Homeric engagement. Arrian quotes specific lines from the Homeric epics only three times. We have already seen the quotation of Il. 13.6 in relation to the Scythians (4.1.1). There is only one more quotation, that of Od. 4.581, which is mentioned twice (5.6.5; 6.1.3) and serves as evidence in an analogical syllogism (people should not doubt that India took its name from the river Indus, since the same seems to have happened in Egypt. In this case the area took its name from the Nile, which used to be called Egyptus; since Homer offers evidence for this view).107 Given that Arrian’s two other surviving historical works too, the Indikē and the Battle Formation against the Alani, have no Homeric citations for didactic purposes and for the sake of vividness, we can be certain that Arrian could see the difference between the use of the Homeric epics in various literary genres. He believed that authors of historical works should be modest in quoting verbatim epic verses and in using them as moral exempla. This view is also possibly suggestive of how Arrian must have arranged epic quotations in his lost historical works, such as the Bithyniaca, the Parthica, and the History of the Successors.

.. Historical interpretation If we compare the Granicus account with those of Issus and Gaugamela, we may see that in these cases Arrian used Homeric style in accordance with the way in which he interpreted the events. To begin with the Granicus account, Arrian’s effort to extol Alexander’s military qualities and thereby to glorify the victory at the Granicus stands in sharp contrast with the picture we have today of both the significance of the battle and Alexander’s role in it. Since antiquity, the established custom of including this battle in the standard tetrad (Granicus, Issus, Gaugamela, and Hydaspes) has greatly contributed to its overestimation.108 First, the battle was not that important in terms of military tactics. The Macedonians crossed the river, the Persians were waiting for them on the opposite side, and, when the Macedonians approached the Persians, the two armies fought each other, with

 107 Cf. D.S. 1.19.4. 108 Green 1974, 491; Devine 1986.

212  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero their cavalries first in the line of battle.109 Second, the victory was not a special feat, since the Macedonians did not defeat a numerically superior enemy; on the contrary, it was the Persians who were outnumbered. Due to the paradoxical inconsistencies he created in his epic account, Arrian gave cause for complaint to more demanding readers, such as Lucian or Polybius, who had castigated Callisthenes for his battle description of Gaugamela (Plb. 12.22 = FGrH 124 F35). The battle of the Granicus thus did not result from an ingenious strategic plan, and this is why in the debate between Parmenio and Alexander Arrian conveyed the impression that the battle emerged not from Alexander’s intellect but from his emotions (heroic aidōs). His choice to focus on the emotional dimension of Alexander’s decision is deliberate. Arrian treats in a strikingly different way the similar debate between the two men before the battle at Gaugamela (3.10.1–4). In that example, Parmenio’s rational proposal to fight at night is again counterbalanced by Alexander’s sentimental response: “Alexander, however, replied since others were listening, that it was dishonorable to steal the victory, and that Alexander had to win his victory openly and without stratagem” (3.10.2). Yet, Arrian does not content himself in presenting Alexander only in a heroic fashion, as he did in the Granicus account. He adds: “This grandiloquence looked like confidence in danger rather than arrogance, but in my own view he made a careful calculation on some such principle as this […]” (ibid.) By contrast, in the Granicus debate, Arrian avoided rationalizing Alexander’s words on shame, simply because historical reality did not demand him to do so. The three battle descriptions differ from one another in this respect on a structural level too. While in the Granicus episode Arrian composed Alexander’s aristeia and structured, as we saw, the transition from the general picture of the battle to the king’s exploits on the model of epic techniques, in the two battle descriptions of Issus and Gaugamela he instead aimed to stress Alexander’s strategic ingeniousness and not his bravery. In these cases, the absence of Homeric engagement serves this historiographical goal. Only at the very end of the descriptions is Arrian confined to coloring Darius’ anti-heroic flight with epic shades. Furthermore, there is no single combat involving Alexander, despite the fact that the events themselves offered Arrian the opportunity to build up the Macedonian’s aristeia, had he wished to. In the chapters on the casualties after the battle of Issus, Arrian informs us that Alexander was wounded in his thigh (2.12.1). Yet, in the main description of the battle he avoided composing the scene of Alexander’s fight and injury, although in other cases of the king’s injuries he  109 Devine 1986, 265–266.

Limitations and criteria in Arrian’s use of Homeric passages  213

does not miss the opportunity to describe the event in a vivid way. In this respect, we can observe here Arrian’s self-restraint in his manipulation of Homeric precedents. The difference between the Granicus account from those of Issus and Gaugamela can also be seen in light of the limited functionality of the Homeric warfare scenes. In the Iliad, the details of a battle description focus mainly on individuals or, when referring to a collective body, on the forcefulness of one-on-one battles. In contrast, there are no instances of penetrating well-prepared strategic plans. Arrian seems to have taken this factor into account, since we trace no epic phrase or line in the strictly strategic passages of the Anabasis.110 In the Anabasis, the Homeric lines and paraphrases are used exclusively for the delineation of the moral and sentimental side of war, i.e. when a protagonist expresses his feelings on the battlefield or when a point is made with regard to life generally (shame, fear, bravery, desire for glory and posthumous fame, love for his friends).

.. From praise to criticism As demonstrated in Chapter I, the last four books are differentiated from the first three in terms of Arrian’s attitude towards Alexander. From Book IV onwards Arrian focuses on the Macedonian’s lust. In accordance with this shift, in Books IV– VI the Homeric world ceases to be exclusively Alexander’s ally and is also used as a means for the author’s criticism of the king’s decisions. We have already seen that heroic aidōs gradually gives place to rage and arrogance.111 Furthermore, as we saw, Book IV, which paves the way for this transition, begins with the following words (4.1.1–2): “Not many days later, envoys came to Alexander from the  110 With the exception of the phrase ἢ εἴ πῃ τάφροι ἢ σκόλοπες in Parmenio’s speculations during the Macedonian council before the battle of Gaugamela (3.9.4). Cf. Il. 8.343: διά τε σκόλοπας καὶ τάφρον; 15.1: διά τε σκόλοπας καὶ τάφρον; 15.344: τάφρῳ καὶ σκολόπεσσιν. Cf. also Il. 7.440–441; 9.349–350; 12.62–63. 111 Alexander is strikingly presented as acting out of shame, not only in military affairs but also on other occasions, only in the first three books of the Anabasis (1.9.10; 1.10.6; 1.13.6; 2.15.4; 2.26.3; 2.27.2; 3.10.2). By contrast, in the last four books the only instances in which this emotion is linked to Alexander are ch. 4.7.5, ch. 5.1.5, and ch. 4.19.6. In the first two cases, this element is used in a converted sense. In ch. 4.7.5, Arrian accuses Alexander of not having felt shame in adopting the oriental royal ettiquette. In ch. 5.1.5, The Nysaeans ask Alexander to spare the city “out of reverence for Dionysus”, and Arrian clarifies that Alexander did not respect their wish out of reverence for the god but for the sake of his personal interests. Last, in ch. 4.19.6 Arrian touches upon Alexander’s shame towards Darius’ wife, however this is a analepsis that refers to events described in Book II.

214  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Abian Scythians, as they are called, whom Homer praised in his epic by calling them ‘most just of men’; they live in Asia, and are independent, chiefly through their poverty and their sense of justice.” Homer is here the authority that Arrian invokes in order to castigate in a covert way the depredations against the Scythians, as are described in the immediately following chapters. The Scythians, according to Homer, are neither rich nor do they intend to threaten Alexander’s imperialistic vision. They live in poverty and are isolated due to their faith in justice (οὐχ ἥκιστα διὰ πενίαν τε καὶ δικαιότητα). As we saw in Chapter I, the virtue of justice is an implicit comment against Alexander’s batteries against this people. In his Indikē, Arrian makes a similar comment on the Indians’ defensive attitude towards Macedonian aggressiveness: οὐ μὲν δὴ οὐδὲ Ἰνδῶν τινὰ ἔξω τῆς οἰκείης σταλῆναι ἐπὶ πολέμῳ διὰ δικαιότητα (Ind. 9.12). As demonstrated in Chapter I, both the Scythians and the Indians are the two main victims of Alexander’s arrogance in Books IV and V, and through this programmatic statement on the Scythians’ poverty and justice and that on the Indians’ justice in the comment of the Indikē, Arrian refers to the absurdity of Alexander’s operations against them. Alexander is thus presented as annihilating a people that would neither offer him wealth nor would threaten his expansionist plans. Thus, there is no reason to wonder why Books IV and V contain no Homeric paraphrases. The Homeric vocabulary characterizes Alexander in an equally negative fashion in the narration of his stay in India. When the king meets the Brahmins, they scorn him by uttering the following words (7.1.6): σὺ δὲ ἄνθρωπος ὢν παραπλήσιος τοῖς ἄλλοις, πλήν γε δὴ ὅτι πολυπράγμων καὶ ἀτάσθαλος, ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκείας τοσαύτην γῆν ἐπεξέρχῃ πράγματα ἔχων τε καὶ παρέχων ἄλλοις. Yet you, though a man like other men, except of course that you are restless and presumptuous, are roaming over so wide an era away from what is your own, giving no rest to yourself or others.

The characterization πολυπράγμων καὶ ἀτάσθαλος is a Homerism perhaps borrowed from Herodotus (Hdt. 8.109.3; 9.116.1). However, the affinity of πολυπράγμων with ὀβριμο-εργός of Il. 22.418 (λίσσωμ’ ἀνέρα τοῦτον ἀτάσθαλον ὀβριμοεργόν), found only in this verse and attributed to Achilles in an episode where he inappropriately violates Hector’s body, allows for the possibility that Arrian is here drawing directly from Homer. It is true that in the Mallian episode Arrian colors Alexander’s bravery with epic shades. However, it is worth mentioning that Arrian does not use epic elements in order to denigrate the Malli in the way he did with Darius in Books II and III. He merely praises Alexander at one of the most crucial moments of his

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career. The Malli episode and the description of the battle at the Hydaspes exemplify in the most striking fashion how Arrian combines his need to praise Alexander with his general historiographical principles. In the Malli case, the Homeric portrayal of Alexander as the new Hector follows his general practice of embellishing the most crucial moments of Alexander’s career with Homeric features, while compromising his intention not to wrong the Malli. Similarly, in the description of the battle at Hydaspes, Arrian exploits Homeric elements not in order to demonstrate Alexander’s military skills, but to stress those factors that rendered this battle a special case, factors such as intense weather phenomena (rain in 5.12.3: ὕδωρ … λάβρον // Il. 16.385: λαβρότατον χέει ὕδωρ) and the casualties caused by the elephants (5.17.5: τῶν τε οὖν ἱππέων, οἷα δὴ ἐν στενῷ περὶ τοὺς ἐλέφαντας εἰλουμένων // Il. 8.214–215: ἵππων τε καὶ ἀνδρῶν ἀσπιστάων / εἰλομένων). If anyone is presented as a Homeric hero, this is definitely not Alexander but the Indian king Porus, who is discernible due to his size, the splendor of his armor, and his bravery (5.18.4–19.3).

.. Omitting the ‘Homeric’ sites of Hellenistic encomium Arrian also excluded from his work a series of flattering associations of places visited by Alexander with Homeric sites, which we find in the first histories of Alexander. To begin with Callisthenes, when explaining that Pedasus, the Homeric city of the Leleges in the vicinity of Ida or near Assus, no longer existed in this era, Strabo cites Callisthenes as his source for the following story – or at least for some part of it (Str. 13.1.59, p. 611C.10–18 = FGrH 124 F25): ἡ μὲν τοίνυν ἐκλειφθεῖσα ὑπ’ αὐτῶν πόλις Πήδασος οὐκέτ’ ἐστιν. ἐν δὲ τῇ μεσογαίᾳ τῶν Ἁλικαρνασέων τὰ Πήδασα ὑπ’ αὐτῶν ὀνομασθέντα ἦν πόλις, καὶ ἡ νῦν χώρα Πηδασὶς λέγεται. φασὶ δ’ ἐν αὐτῇ καὶ ὀκτὼ πόλεις ᾠκίσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν Λελέγων πρότερον εὐανδρησάντων, ὥστε καὶ τῆς Καρίας κατασχεῖν τῆς μέχρι Μύνδου καὶ Βαργυλίων καὶ τῆς Πισιδίας ἀποτεμέσθαι πολλήν. […] τῶν δ’ ὀκτὼ πόλεων τὰς ἓξ Μαύσωλος εἰς μίαν τὴν Ἁλικαρνασὸν συνήγαγεν, ὡς Καλλισθένης ἱστορεῖ, Συάγγελα δὲ καὶ Μύνδον διεφύλαξε. The city of Pedasus, abandoned by them, is no longer in existence; but in the inland territory of the Halicarnassians there used to be a city Pedasa, so named by them; and the present territory is called Pedasis. It is said that as many as eight cities were settled in this territory by the Leleges, who in earlier times were so numerous that they not only took possession of that part of Caria which extends to Myndus and Bargylia, but also cut off for

216  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero themselves a large portion of Pisidia. […] Of the eight cities, Mausolus united six into a city, Halicarnassus, as Callisthenes tells us, but kept Syangela and Myndus as they were.112

Callisthenes must have composed this digression on Halicarnassus’ epic origins on the occasion of its destruction by Alexander, in his effort to present Alexander as conquering the city of the Leleges in a way that would resemble Achilles’ victory over them.113 Still, in the chapters on the siege of Halicarnassus (1.20.2–23.6), Arrian mentions none of this epic information, either when referring specifically to Alexander’s failed effort to take Myndus, one of the eight cities founded by the Leleges (1.20.5; cf. 2.5.7), or generally during the whole narrative. Callisthenes seems to have contributed to one further moment of déjà-vu in Achilles’ successes in the Troad, when narrating Alexander’s operations in Pamphylia (Str. 14.4.1, p. 667C.19–21 = F32) φασὶ δ’ ἐν τῷ μεταξὺ Φασηλίδος καὶ Ἀτταλείας δείκνυσθαι Θήβην τε καὶ Λυρνησσόν, ἐκπεσόντων ἐκ τοῦ Θήβης πεδίου τῶν Τρωικῶν Κιλίκων εἰς τὴν Παμφυλίαν ἐκ μέρους, ὡς εἴρηκε Καλλισθένης. It is said that both Thebē and Lyrnessus are to be seen between Phaselis and Attaleia, a part of the Trojan Cilicians having been driven out of the plain of Thebē into Pamphylia, as Callisthenes states.

In the Iliad, both Thebē and Lyrnessus were cities of the Trojan Cilicians, Priam’s allies in the war against the Greeks (Il. 6.396–398), and they had been sacked by Achilles (Thebē: Il. 1.366–367; 6.414–416 and Lyrnessus: Il. 2.690–691; 19.60; 20.92, 191–192). Curtius (3.4.10) places these sites in Cilicia and not in Pamphylia, adding that they, as many others, were pointed out to Alexander during his sojourn in these areas. Although modern scholarship is right to conclude that Callisthenes – and perhaps other flatterers as well – identified the cities of the southern coastline of Minor Asia with the Homeric cities in their effort to satisfy Alexander,114 I am not convinced by the suggestion that these identifications were based on Alexander’s descent from Andromache, and were therefore aimed at presenting Alexander as

 112 Transl. Jones everywhere. 113 Jacoby’s view that the first part of this fragment belongs to Callisthenes’ Hellenica has reasonably been resisted by modern scholarship. See Droysen 1833 I, 225–226; Pearson 1960, 45; HCA I, 151; Pédech 1984, 47 n. 20; Prandi 1985, 77–78. Gilhaus (2017, 373) cannot decide. 114 Pearson 1980, 41–42. Cf. Pédech 1984, 47–48.

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repossessing cities originating from the possessions of his Trojan ancestors.115 Alexander may have claimed his kinship with the Trojans from the Aeacid kings of the Molossians, among whom Andromache was a queen. However, he also prided himself on his descent from Achilles through Neoptolemus (Str. 13.1.27, p. 594C.26–29; Paus. 1.11.1; Plu. Alex. 2.1). For this reason, his visit to Thebē and Lyrnessus of Cilicia or Pamphylia may also be seen as an effort to imitate Achilles’ victories. At any rate, Arrian’s silence again reveals his indifference to this particular aspect of the Macedonian propaganda. In F33 (Str. 13.4.6, p. 627C.10–14), we read of another similar dislocation of a Homeric site at one of the stations on Alexander’s route along the southern Asian coasts. In Il. 2.781–783, we read that the giant Typhoeus was buried in the district of the Arimi. Several ancient authorities testify to a preoccupation with defining the exact location of the land of Arimi, and Strabo summarizes all versions known to him, including that of Callisthenes: οἱ δὲ τοὺς Σύρους Ἀρίμους δέχονται, οὓς νῦν Ἀραμαίους λέγουσι, τοὺς δὲ Κίλικας τοὺς ἐν Τροίᾳ μεταναστάντας εἰς Συρίαν ἀνῳκισμένους ἀποτεμέσθαι παρὰ τῶν Σύρων τὴν νῦν λεγομένην Κιλικίαν. Καλλισθένης δ’ ἐγγὺς τοῦ Καλυκάδνου καὶ τῆς Σαρπηδόνος ἄκρας παρ’ αὐτὸ τὸ Κωρύκιον ἄντρον εἶναι τοὺς Ἀρίμους, ἀφ’ ὧν τὰ ἐγγὺς ὄρη λέγεσθαι Ἄριμα. Others again take the Syrians who are now called Aramaeans to be the Arimi, maintaining that the Trojan Cilicians who migrated to Syria cut off for themselves the country now called Cilicia, taking it away from the Syrians; and Callisthenes says that the Arimi are in the neighborhood of the Calycadnus and the promontory of Sarpedon, near the Corycian cave itself, and that the mountains nearby are called Arima after them.

The Calycadnus was west of Soli,116 where Alexander had his base during his operations in Rough Cilicia in the autumn of 333 BCE, and the tomb of Pythoeus must have been one further Homeric invention created by Alexander’s environment especially for him. Again, we read nothing of all this in the chapters of Arrian’s Anabasis on Alexander’s activity in Soli and Cilicia (2.4.2ff.). There is no doubt that the whole expedition to Pamphylia was described by Callisthenes in an epic fashion.117 However, a problem emerges at this point. Although in many cases Arrian seems to have drawn information from Callisthenes’

 115 Pearson 1980, 41–42; Prandi 1985, 77. 116 Sayar 1992, 57–61. 117 Pearson 1960, 37 n. 76; Prandi 1985, 76–82; AAA I, XXIII. This view is also supported if we read F32 next to F31 (Eustath. ad Iliad 13.27–30): […] Καλλισθένης τὸ Παμφύλιον πέλαγος Ἀλεξάνδρου παριόντος […] ἐξυπαναστῆναι λέγει αἰσθόμενον οἷον τῆς ἐκείνου πορείας καὶ οὐδ’ αὐτὸ ἀγνοῆσαν τὸν ἄνακτα, ἵνα ἐν τῷ ὑποκυρτοῦσθαί πως δοκῇ προσκυνεῖν.” This text echoes

218  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero account, we do not know if he had read Callisthenes’ text;118 he may have borrowed from Callisthenes through Ptolemy, Aristobulus, or other sources. The question is thus whether Arrian omitted the epic allusions of Callisthenes and others on purpose or merely because he had no access to them. Fortunately, a fragment of Aristobulus’ history of Alexander, one of Arrian’s two principal sources, reveals that Arrian was well aware of such stories. In his Deipnosophistae, Athenaeus lists some springs mentioned by historians, and in this context we read that (Ath. 43d–e = FGrH 139 F6): Ἀριστόβουλος δ’ ὁ Κασανδρεύς φησιν ἐν Μιλήτῳ κρήνην εἶναι Ἀχίλλειον καλουμένην, ἧς τὸ μὲν ῥεῦμα εἶναι γλυκύτατον, τὸ δ’ ἐφεστηκὸς ἁλμυρόν· ἀφ’ ἧς οἱ Μιλήσιοι περιρράνασθαί φασι τὸν ἥρωα, ὅτε ἀπέκτεινε Τράμβηλον τὸν τῶν Λελέγων βασιλέα. Aristobulus of Cassandreia says that there is a spring in Miletus referred to as the Achilleion and that the water that comes out of it is entirely fresh, but a layer of saltwater is on top of it. The Milesians claim that the hero purified himself with its water when he killed Trambelus, the king of the Leleges.

This θαυμάσιον119 resembles Callisthenes’ Homeric echoes and should be considered one of the many cases where Aristobulus borrowed from or imitated the Olynthian historian.120 Trambelus was a mythical variant of Teucre, the son of Telamon. According to one of the versions of his myth, after the first Trojan War, Telamon took Theaneira as a prize. This woman became pregnant by Telamon, but she managed to escape to Miletus where, under the protection of king Arion, she gave birth to a son, whom she named Trambelus and raised in Miletus. In the second Trojan War, during the incursions out of Troy, he was killed by Achilles,

 on a verbal level Il. 13.27–30 and especially vv. 27–28 on the reaction of the sea in Poseidon’s presence (ἄταλλε δὲ κήτε’ ὑπ’ αυτοῦ / πάντοθεν ἐκ κευθμῶν, οὐδ’ ἠγνοίησεν ἄνακτα) and Od. 11.243–244 (πορφύρεον δ’ ἄρα κῦμα περιστάθη οὔρεϊ ἶσον, / κυρτωθέν; cf. ἐξυπαναστῆναι and ὑποκυρτοῦσθαι). Pearson is overly suspicious as to whether the epic loans in the fragment belong to Callisthenes or to Eustathius. Had Callisthenes not used the Homeric vocabulary, Eustathius would not have bothered mentioning him in the context of Poseidon’s chariot in the waves. Cf. Pédech (1984, 52–54), who justifiably takes it for granted that the stylistic choices are to be attributed to Callisthenes, also mentioning the parallel of the ἐξυπαναστῆναι with Il. 2.267 (53 n. 44). 118 As judiciously put in Devine 1994. But see Hammond 1992, who believes that Arrian had immediate access to Callisthenes’ work. See, contra, Beloch III 22, 354; Kornemann 1935, 8–9 n. 34, who believes that the battle description of Issus was transmitted from Callisthenes to Arrian through Ptolemy. 119 FGrH 139, Komm., 511. 120 Cf. Pédech 1984, 339–340.

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who buried him with full honors, as soon as he found out that he was his cousin.121 Aristobulus imitates Callisthenes here by creating an Achillean site in Alexander’s itinerary, a fact which increases the possibility that he had embraced Callisthenes’ practice throughout his work. We can thus safely conclude that Arrian had read, if not all of these epic evocations, at least those in Aristobulus, and his choice to exclude them from his own account should therefore be considered intentional.122 The Homeric associations of the places visited by Alexander could also have come to Arrian’s notice from other sources as well. The Hellenistic historian Menaechmus of Sicyon was a contemporary of Alexander and, according to Suda, he wrote, among other works, a history of Alexander and a local history of his birthplace Sicyon.123 In the Ethnica of Stephanus of Byzantium, we read that, according to Menaechmus, at a distance of seven stades from Patara one could find Telephus’ fountain, the water of which was blurred because Telephus was said to have washed in this place the wound he received from Achilles (St.Byz. τ 111 Billerbeck (s.v. Τηλέφιος δῆμος καὶ Τηλέφου κρήνη) = FGrH 131 F11). Although Stephanus does not clarify whether he drew this information from Menaechmus’ history of Alexander or from his Sicyoniaca, most scholars rightly incline to believe that this passage comes from Menaechmus’ history of Alexander.124 Indeed, in light of Callisthenes’ and Aristobulus’ tales, Menaechmus’ story on Telephus’ fountain emerges as a further example in a chain of Homeric sites on Alexander’s route along the southern coastline of Minor Asia. It should be pointed out that Patara was in Lycia, near Cilicia and Pamphylia where Callisthenes had located his Homeric echoes. Whether Menaechmus drew from Callisthenes or not, his story about Telephus’ fountain, along with Aristobulus’ fountain of Achilles, shows that Callisthenes’ interest in the epic world was shared by other historians of Alexander as well, a fact which strengthens the view that Arrian had found such associations of Alexander’s march with the epic geography in more than one of his sources.  121 Lyc. Al. 467; Schol. ad Lyc. Al. 467 = Ister, FGrH 334 F57; Parth. 26. Cf. Bartoletti 1948 and Jackson 1996 on the tradition of this myth. 122 Especially when we consider the fact that Arrian repeatedly drew from Aristobulus for geography (on this theme, see Schwartz RE II, 1, col. 1238). 123 Ath. 271d; Suda μ 141 Adler (s.v. Μάναιχμος). Kiessling 1830; Müller 1846; FGrH 131; Laqueur, RE XV, 1, cols. 698–699; Pfister 1913; Robertson 1999, 65ff. Menaechmus, having elaborated in his Περὶ Τεχνιτῶν on the performance of oral poetry (Ath. 65b; 637f; Schol. Pind. N 2, 1d), was a formidable connoisseur of the Homeric epics. 124 See as a cross-section Kiessling 1830; Müller 1846; FGrH 131, Komm., 444; Pearson 1960, 251 and Gilhaus 2017, 391, although with caution. See, contra, Pfister 1913, 536.

220  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero Arrian’s lack of regard in the Anabasis for use of the Homeric ethnographical and geographical material is stressed even further when we contrast it with his intense interest in this technique in his lost Bithyniaca. In his scholia to the Homeric epics, Eustathius offers us a significant number of fragments from Arrian’s Bithyniaca, some of which make it clear that Arrian was well aware of the practice he avoided in his account of Alexander. In F15 (Eustath. ad Il. 6.75), we read that Arrian offered his own version of the origins of the name and clairvoyance of the Trojan augur Helenus. According to Arrian, Helenus, whose real name was Scamandrius, visited Thrace where he was taught the art of prophecy by a distinguished Thracian prophet, Helenus son of Hedonus. After returning to Asia, Scamandrius changed his name to Helenus in order to pay tribute to his teacher. Helenus, son of Priam and brother of Cassandra, occupied a distinguished position in the Epic Cycle, counterbalancing the Greek Calchas.125 In his first appearance in the Iliad, where he advises Hector on how to organize an offering to Athena, he is characterized by the poet as being “best by far of the augurs” (Il. 6.76), while he also participated in the battle near the Greek ships (Il. 12.94) and was wounded in the hand by Menelaus (Il. 13.576– 600). He is also present in the epic storyline before and after the events of the Iliad. However, nowhere in the Iliad can we find information on how he obtained his gift of communicating with the gods. In the D and bT scholia we read that he and his sister Cassandra, as infants, acquired the ability to hear divine voices after being licked by two snakes. However, this version has been considered as stemming from possibly as late as the 3rd century BC,126 and, along with Arrian’s story, might merely resemble the efforts of ancient readers to fill in the gaps of epic myth. Moreover, post-epic poets present him as betraying his country by revealing to Odysseus the way in which to conquer Troy (B. F7 Maehler; S. Ph. 606, 1337), while after the fall of the city, Helenus is said to have moved to Thrace, where he spent the rest of his life (E. Andr. 1243; Verg. A. 3.294–297). Arrian seems plainly to have taken advantage of these discrepancies in the tradition about Helenus’ clairvoyance and his relationships with the Greeks, perhaps in an effort both to exculpate him from the accusation of treason and to create a more romantic link between him and Greece (via Thrace). He might have chosen to offer a more rational explanation,127 in order to render his connection more convincing.

 125 Süß RE VII, 2, cols. 2844–2847; Kirk 1990 II, 236–237; Bremmer 1996, 100 n. 16 with further bibliography; Finkelberg 2011 II, 337. 126 Kirk 1990 II, 237. But see Bremmer, Der Neue Pauly, s.v. Ἕλενος. 127 As posited by Bremmer, Der Neue Pauly, s.v. Ἕλενος.

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In F22 (Eustath. ad Il. 2.857), Arrian argues for the Bithynian origins of the obscure Halizones people (Il. 2.856–857) and proceeds to provide an etymological explanation of their name, suggesting that these people were given this appellation due to the fact that they were surrounded by the sea. In Homer, the Halizones appear merely to be allies of Troy, but this is the only information we have about them from the Iliad. In antiquity, their origins had repeatedly been disputed, with the most accepted view appearing to have been the one supported by Arrian, i.e. that they were Bithynians.128 Similarly to the case of Helenus, Arrian elaborates again on the name of the Homeric hero under examination, arguing that the king of the Halizones was initially called Ῥοδίτης, then Ῥόδιος which eventually turned into Ὅδιος. In F31 (Eustath. ad Dionys. 391), Arrian draws our attention to one more mythical hero closely connected to Troy, Dardanus. Specifically, by distancing himself from the myth in which Harmonia, Cadmus’ wife, comes from Boeotia and is the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite,129 he instead argues that the mythical woman descended from Asia and was Dardanus’ sister. According to Arrian, Cadmus, in his search for his sister Europe, visited Asia, where he met Harmonia and fell in love with her. After abducting her, he went to Boeotia, where he founded Thebes. It is difficult to trace the origins of this story and Arrian’s motives in mentioning it. Arrian probably either used a story already existing in the areas south of the Black Sea, or he invented it himself. This tale seems to be a typical example of a woman’s abduction between the Europeans and the Asians, such as those related by Herodotus in the opening chapters of his History. Elsewhere (F32: Eustath. ad Il. 2.814; Eustath. ad Dionys. 524; Eustath. ad Il. 22.214), Arrian recalls the dialogue between Aeneas and Achilles in Book ΧΧ of the Iliad and specifically Aeneas’ reference to the origins of his family and Troy (Il. 20.215–216). He mentions Dardanus’ route from Samothrace to Troy, his founding of Dardania, his marriage with Teucrus’ daughter Bateia, and their sons Erichthonius and Ilus. In F33 (Eustath. ad Od. 5.125), Arrian’s interest shifts towards Dardanus’ brother Iasion who, possessed by the goddesses Demeter and Persephone, travelled to Sicily and spread their cult, claiming that the goddess was making love with him. We should not be surprised by the fact that we find

 128 Str. 12.3.20ff., p 549C.23ff.; Sölch 1925, 158–159 n. 3; Anca 2012–2013. 129 Hes. Th. 933–937, 975–978; P. P. 11.7; E. Ph. 8; D.S. 4.2; Pl. Phd. 95a; Apollod. (pseudo-) Bibl. 3.25. For Harmonia see Lenschau RE VII,2, cols. 2379–2388, and specifically for ancient sources col. 2380.

222  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero such passages in the Bithyniaca, given the natural and intense interest in Dardanus’ family among the peoples of northwestern Asia Minor.130 We can also suppose that F31–33 belonged to the same unit in which Arrian must have composed the genealogy of the cities of the district extending near Troy and Dardania. What is important for our context is that all these excerpts suggest, if anything, that Arrian was quite familiar with the practice of penetrating into a region’s ethnographic past with the help of, or by initial recourse to, Homer. Of course, as Photius informs us, Arrian had written the Anabasis before the Bithyniaca. But this does not imply that, when composing the Anabasis, Arrian was not aware of this technique and that he was acquainted with it only during the writing of the Bithyniaca. Arrian could have collected the Homeric material for the cities he recorded in the Anabasis with the same ease as he did for the Bithyniaca. However, he did not. This choice is not to be attributed to his lack of experience in collecting his material but to his conscious choice not to follow some of his sources in presenting Alexander’s expedition as a continuation of the Trojan War. The following passage from the Bithyniaca is highly illuminating in this respect. In F34, Eustathius (ad Il. 2.824) quotes Arrian’s story on Zeleia: “Zeleia or Lycia: Apollo too [is called] Lycius because of this Lycia. For this reason also the father of Pandarus [is named] Lycaon, which name is not much different from that of this race.”131 This etymological association of Zeleia with Lycaon would indeed have been a very convenient way for Arrian to connect Alexander’s victory at the Granicus with the glorious Homeric area. Still, nothing similar is found in the Anabasis. In ch. 1.12.8, Arrian merely records the council of the Persian generals at Zeleia, this being an occasion on which he could have digressed in order to offer us additional information about the prehistory of the place. He could have associated Zeleia with the Homeric hero Lycaon in the way he does in his Bithyniaca, and thereby encourage his readers to read the following battle description of the Granicus from an epic point of view. The name Lycaon could have offered Arrian still further fertile ground on which to present Alexander’s appearance at the field of Adrasteia as the repetition of Achilles’ presence in the Troad. During the War of Troy, another Lycaon, the son of Priam and Laothoe, was captured by Achilles while chopping branches in Priam’s garden. Achilles sold him as a slave to Eunaeus in Lemnos, but Eetion freed him and helped him return to Troy. However, after twelve days, he faced Achilles again, after the latter returned to the battlefield swayed by his rage for

 130 Stadter 1980, 159. 131 I use Stadter’s (1980, 159) translation of the fragment.

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Patroclus’ death. Lycaon fell to Achilles’ knees and begged him for his life, but Achilles slaughtered him (Il. 21.35–155). As we have already demonstrated, Arrian colored the battle description of the Granicus with epic shades on both a moral and stylistic level, i.e. by presenting Alexander as acting in a way that was motivated by his Homeric aidōs and by structuring the fight on the basis of Homeric patterns. Thus, given that Arrian’s intention in this part of the work is clearly oriented towards the heroic world of Troy, we could legitimately expect him to add one further Homeric allusion with regard to Zeleia, Lycaon, and Achilles. Yet instead of this, he chose to confine his epic tools to the main description. In light of his knowledge of the Iliad and the practices used by his sources, this choice can be seen as deriving from his aim to distance himself from the traditional association of certain phases of Alexander’s expedition with Homeric sites and local heroes. We should not be surprised by the absence of Homeric peoples and places from the Anabasis, given Arrian’s general indifference to Alexander’s claims of his kinship with Achilles and Andromache. The historian never discusses this matter overtly,132 and his decision to exclude such material from his narrative should not be traced only to his skepticism towards Alexander’s kinship with the Homeric figures. We should also consider his artistic intention in terms of how he wished to convey his own Homeric portrait of Alexander. In this context, it is useful here to quote one last passage from the lost historiography on the Macedonian king. In Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, we read that, according to Onesicritus, Alexander was sleeping with the Iliad under his pillow, because he always considered and claimed it to be an “equipment of military virtue” (Plu Alex. 7.2 = Ones. FGrH 134 F38). It is exactly this aspect of Alexander’s relationship with the Homeric world to which Arrian most wants to orientate his readers. In the Anabasis, Alexander’s love for Homer is manifested only through his actions and thoughts, and most importantly through the degree to which these actions and thoughts resemble the conduct of the epic heroes. However, as already demonstrated, Alexander’s epic behavior in the Anabasis cannot be identified exclusively with one hero of the Iliad. Alexander resembles Achilles to the same degree that he reminds us of Hector or Protesilaus. In his system of moral values, we can discern general heroic qualities that are traceable in all the protagonists of the War of Troy, be they on the Greek or on the Trojan side. Arrian’s Alexander, being presented as neither exclusively Achilles’ incarnation nor as the heir of the Trojan

 132 He is equally hesitant to admit Alexander’s descent from Heracles, although he only once presents it as a fact (3.3.2).

224  Arrian Homericus: Alexander, the Epic Hero throne, is thereby freed from the narrow limits of Macedonian propaganda as expressed by historians such as Callisthenes, Aristobulus and Menaechmus.

. Conclusion In this chapter we examined the way Arrian interacted with the traditional associations of Alexander with the Homeric world. Like Diodorus, Plutarch and very plausibly others as well, Arrian preserved the practice of the first historians of Alexander of depicting him as an epic hero. The historian shares from the outset with his readers his wish to act through his work as Alexander’s Homer, and thereby excites their anticipation for epic, glorifying military descriptions. In the course of reading the Anabasis, the readers realize that the work is indeed marked by an epic atmosphere, which is pertained mainly in two ways. First, Arrian foregrounds the heroic values and conduct of the Macedonians, focusing his interest on individuals’ military feats, bravery, and sufferings. Although these themes constitute common features of Greco-Roman historiography in general, they should also be seen as relics of the heroic values of the Macedonian military aristocracy that touched off Alexander’s love for the Homeric world. Second, this heroic atmosphere culminates at seven narrative points, in which Arrian draws from specific Iliadic verses in order to signal central events of the expedition. In these passages, Alexander is presented as acting and speaking like the Homeric heroes, mostly Achilles and Hector. At this point, it is worth expressing some thoughts on an issue we repeatedly addressed in this chapter, namely the associations in the Anabasis between Alexander and these two prominent figures of the Iliad. The two heroes were not only the two famous foes in the Homeric epic; they also represented two different, and often equally colliding, worlds, i.e. the Greeks (Achilles) and the Romans (Hector). As we saw, in the Anabasis Alexander stands in the middle, between Greece and Rome. This is because he is presented as acting, thinking, and talking as Hector with the same frequency as he resembles Achilles. Now, Arrian too stood in his life somewhere between Greece and Rome, was familiar with the imitatio Alexandri practiced by the Roman emperors and military leaders,133 and was particularly concerned with the current readerly tastes of the Romans.134 However, due to the lack of any explicit statement on his part, it is hard to conclude securely that he intended to

 133 Tisé 2002; Kühnen 2008. 134 Carlsen 2014; Liotsakis 2019a (forthcoming).

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associate Alexander with the Romans in the passages in which Alexander resembles Hector. It would be more economical to say that Arrian left the paths of such associations open for readers inclined to walk them. Be that as it may, Arrian’s Alexander is associated with the Homeric world in a much more complicated way than merely being Achilles’ incarnation. According to Lucian (Hist. Conscr. 12), Aristobulus, one of Arrian’s principal sources, was scorned by Alexander for his inordinate description of the battle at the Hydaspes. Alexander threw Aristobulus’ book into the river and said to him: “You deserve the same treatment, Aristobulus, for fighting single-handed duels for my sake like that and killing elephants with one throw of the javelin.” Arrian avoided Aristobulus’ excesses and, as we saw, he also avoided Aristobulus’ associations of Alexander’s with Homeric sites. Neither will we find in the Anabasis scenes similar to that in Plutarch, in which the light from Alexander’s armor forces the Malli to withdraw. Of course, the epic scenes in the Anabasis too undoubtedly do not correspond to the historical truth, as indicated, for example, by the inaccuracies emerging from the use of epic elements in the Granicus account and elsewhere. This is also the case with the unrealistic way Alexander is presented as thinking in Homeric language in the Mallian episode. However, in the Anabasis we will not find exorbitances similar to those attempted by Aristobulus and Plutarch. Apart from glorifying Alexander’s conduct, the epic loans of the Anabasis rather serve as markers of emphasis. They are mainly aimed at contributing to the overall narrative design. The Homeric loans with which Arrian ridicules Darius’ flight participate in the technique of framing, in that they negatively color Darius’ ability to escape Alexander in the pursuit account of Book III. Accordingly, the heroic aidōs withdraws in the military descriptions of the second, more critical, half of the account. It can be concluded that Arrian freed his epic passages from some exaggerations of other authors in terms of both style and content and was engaged instead with a mild incorporation of this conventional practice into the overall logic of his work.

 General Conclusions As already stated in the Introduction, my major goals in this book were three. First, I endeavored to move beyond the traditional scholarly focus on the encomiastic dimension of the Anabasis. My main thesis was that Arrian wished to delineate for Alexander a dynamic image and to intensify his criticisms against him in the last books. Secondly, I sought solid arguments for the view that this narrative design emerged from Arrian’s own compositional choices. Third but foremost, in this last section I will discuss how this reading of the work can show that Arrian did differentiate, to a certain degree, his own judgment of Alexander and his campaign from the opinions found in his sources. In the last pages of this book, I would thus like to recapitulate my view of Arrian’s narrative plan and mostly to assess the significance of my narrative analysis until now for the issue of the Anabasis’ stylistic and interpretive originality. With regard to Arrian’s method of composition, I endeavored to shed new light on the narrative construction from which Arrian’s Alexander comes into view, as is also evident in the title of the book Literary Portrait. In particular, I attempted to expand the view that in the Anabasis Arrian partly keeps a critical stance towards Alexander (Montgomery, Stadter, Burliga), by demonstrating that this criticism is not discernible only in the comments of Books IV and VII (Burliga) and in the penetration into Alexander’s motives (Montgomery); it also emerges from a carefully planned narrative design that encompasses several other techniques and schemes. In the Anabasis, the hero develops as a character as the plot unfolds. As his successes increase, he begins comparing himself with the gods and heroes in order to control both his men and the Anatolians. Furthermore, from a certain point onwards, his plans and conquests are no more motivated by his heroic aidōs but by his ire and hauteur. Also, Alexander occasionally adopts a cruel and arrogant behavior towards his friends. This dynamic portrait is built upon an abundance of narrative techniques. First, we are faced with a development from Alexander’s idealized depiction in the siege descriptions of Books I–III towards his darker image in those of Books IV–V. Furthermore, from Book IV onwards, the narrator makes the reader feel Alexander’s cruelty in a more intense way, by opening some channels of ideological, cognitive, and affective identification between the reader and the peoples conquered by Alexander. These nations are no more presented merely as Alexander’s enemies; they are also seen as his victims and are favorably marked by their laudable mentality and sociopolitical organization. Subsequently, from a certain point onwards, Alexander is transformed from a culture hero to a scourge for virtuous, peaceful populations, such as the Scythians and the Indians. The reader https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-006

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is also predisposed towards a positive (Books I–III) or negative (Books IV–VII) treatment of Alexander through the technique of framing. In Books IV–VII, the author discusses subjects related with the criticisms of Alexander that are totally absent in Books I–III. These themes pertain to Alexander’s arrogance, greed, the crisis in his relationship with the Macedonians (both individuals and masses), and his effort to respect the institutional infrastructures and culture of the conquered Anatolians. Of course, this narrative development is a rhetorical construction and does not correspond either to the actual development of Alexander’s character – if any – or to the historical phases of his relationship with the Macedonians. This is because in the first three books Arrian deliberately idealizes Alexander’s behavior and conceals events that could have stained his image (see, e.g., the marchnarrative of ch. 3.19–30). Accordingly, in the last books Arrian overemphasizes the role of arrogance in Alexander’s decisions (e.g. in the accounts of the three rocks in Sogdiana and Bactria) and underplays the pragmatic dimension of his strategy in the later years of the expedition. Last but not least, as explained in Chapters II and III, Arrian touches upon Alexander’s unpopularity belatedly. Subsequently, the reader conveys the impression that the issue of Alexander’s disrepute in the Macedonian circles emerged much later than it actually did. Last, it should be noted again that the change of the author’s attitude towards his hero does not entail a shift from pure praise to pure criticism but merely to a more critical stance. The work never loses its encomiastic character altogether even in those parts of the work where Arrian expresses his censorious judgments. Criticism refers mostly to Alexander’s motives in conquering the world. His military insight and bravery, his administrational skills and his love for his men are always present in the account. As we saw in Chapter III, even when Arrian touches upon the crisis in Alexander’s relation with his men in Books IV, V, and VII, he does so in a mild and embellishing manner and more in order to mark a pivotal point of the campaign (its end or the danger of a mutiny) than to question Alexander’s concern for his men or theirs for him.

. Originality of style Let us now move on to the contribution of the proposed narrative model to our knowledge of the compositional originality in the Anabasis. As noted in the Introduction and elsewhere in this book, Arrian assures us from the outset that his work outdoes earlier accounts of Alexander in terms of both reliability and style. He also invites us to verify his claim and read his narrative next to those of his

228  General Conclusions predecessors (Praef. 3). As I have already argued, Arrian would hardly have bothered uttering such a well-meaning boast, had he not intended to offer an account different to its sources. Nonetheless, it can – and should – be objected that we must also search in the narrative itself for more cogent evidence of Arrian’s literary contrivance than this programmatic self-praise. However, most narrative studies of the Anabasis have so far focused more on a descriptive demonstration of Arrian’s modus narrandi and less on simultaneously verifying whether or not the narrative techniques in question reflect Arrian’s creative interaction with the beaten tracks of Alexander’s literature.1 In this book, following Bosworth’s goal-setting in his study From Arrian to Alexander, I endeavored to go further than earlier narrative studies by looking, when the text allowed me to, for strong arguments that some narrative schemes of the Anabasis emanated from Arrian’s inspiration. In the course of my analysis, I repeatedly mentioned those passages where, to my judgment, we may discern signs of Arrian’s inventiveness in terms of both language and arrangement, and it would be superfluous to return here to all those points. Instead, I would like to draw the reader’s attention to the three most enlightening, in my view, outcomes of my analysis in this respect. These are (a) the regularity with which Arrian employs certain techniques; (b) the fact that Alexander’s development does not emerge from random narrative gleams but from the author’s studied exploitation of these typical – and thus most distinctive – features of his style; and (c) the methodical exploitation of the work’s division into books. These elements, along with many others noted in this study, prove that narrative analysis as an interpretive approach can surmount the absence of Arrian’s sources and reveal a rich quantity of passages in which Arrian innovated, whether by offering new compositions or by recruiting features of his sources for the sake of his own narrative goals. The first major marker of originality is the regularity with which Arrian used his techniques. In each chapter we analyzed one or more of these schemes. To begin with, we saw that Arrian uses the atemporal collections of episodes with great frugality and always at turning points of Alexander’s life. The Homeric loans are used in an equally selective fashion, again always highlighting significant moments for the hero’s life or for the expedition. Subsequently, these two elements (the narratives by species and the epic loans) obtain a typical function, they become markers of emphasis. Accordingly, the typical flashbacks on Alexander’s magnanimity towards traitors in all the treason episodes of the work can  1 With the exception of Bosworth 1988a. For his contribution to our knowledge of how Arrian differentiated his narrative from his sources, see Introduction, p. 7.

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hardly be seen as an unconscious choice. Arrian’s methodological punctilio is also traceable in those techniques which he rejected. We noted, for example, his systematic disinterest with references of peoples and sites that presented the expedition as a déjà-vu of Achilles’ victory over epic heroes and cities. Arrian’s pedantic adhesion to a methodological program is also evident in his repetitive focusing on Alexander’s respect for those who remained loyal to Darius in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30. This interest emerges as even more deliberate if contrasted with Arrian’s indifference for the matter in the rest of the work. Many of these elements doubtless belonged to the rhetorical weaponry of the Macedonian propaganda and Arrian drew them from his pro-Macedonian sources. However, their recurrent presence in the Anabasis and, most importantly, the regularity of their function suggest that Arrian observed them very carefully, categorized them, and, whenever he did not exclude them, aimed at turning them into distinctive features of his own stylistic physiognomy. The second major marker of originality lies in the fact that Arrian used these motifs as the basis of his dynamic portrait of Alexander. The narrative by species on Alexander’s immoderate arrogance in the pivotal digression of ch. 4.8–14 divides the work into two parts. It also shapes, along with its twin digression in ch. 7.1.4–3.6, a veil of skepticism for the operations described in Books IV–VII. In both digressions Arrian generously confesses that he deviated from the linear flow of his account on purpose. We also saw that the passages that frame the march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30 (the Homerisms on Darius’ flight and his ‘obituary’) carry distinctive features of Arrian’s style, some of which are traced in his other works as well. The typical motifs of the work actuate Alexander’s development in one further way: Arrian elicits the reader’s surprise by withdrawing in the last books a motif of the first three ones. In particular, through its repetition a positive feature of Alexander’s character is consolidated in the reader’s mind as a motif of Books I–III. This typical virtue is drawn back or replaced by a vice in Books IV–VII. The reader, having been familiarized with this virtue in the first part of the work, feels surprise as she realizes its absence in the last books. This is the case with the ‘Beinahe’ episodes that foreground Alexander’s concern for the safety of the conquered citizens of Thebes, Halicarnassus, and Tarsus. The replacement of this typical quality of Alexander by his rage and arrogance in the occupations of Books IV–V becomes even more perceptible due to the frequency with which this replaced element had occurred in the previous books. Arrian follows the same strategy with the element of aidōs. Due to its especial frequency in the first three books, its total absence from the last four books becomes particularly striking to

230  General Conclusions the reader.2 The same can be said of the antithesis between the laudatory function of the flashbacks on Alexander’s magnanimity to the traitors in the treason episodes of Books I–III and the flashback on Alexander’s ingratitude to Clitus’ family. All these observations uncloak the carefulness with which Arrian took advantage of certain motifs in order to stress even further in the reader’s mind the development of Alexander’s character. The third major marker of originality lies in the ways Arrian exploits the division of his work into books. It has been argued that Arrian, by organizing his account into seven books, imitated the Anabasis of Xenophon, his distinguished literary and intellectual alter ego.3 Even if this assumption holds true, it should still be recognized that Arrian used this literary loan in a systematic way. First, he typically elicits readerly interest at the end of a book for a famous event in Alexander’s life to be related at the beginning of the book that comes immediately next. Book I ends with the arrival of Alexander and his forces at Gordium (1.29.3– 6). In this short report, the narrator urges the reader to read Book II in anticipation of the well-known untying of the Gordian knot (2.3). At the end of Book II Arrian again prepares the reader for two other renowned events of the campaign, the foundation of Alexandria and the visit at the oracle of Ammon Zeus in the oasis of Siwah (2.25.4; 2.26.1). These affairs again cover the beginning of the next book. In a similar fashion, at the end of Book V the reader anticipates the beginning of the nostos after reading of Alexander’s decision to end his campaign on the banks of the Hyphasis (5.25–29). The nostos begins only with the grandiose description at the opening chapters of Book VI. This carefully studied book division also constitutes the basis of Alexander’s dynamic portrait. The cutting of the work into two parts is achieved at the beginning of Book IV, so that the transition to a new narrative phase is signaled to the reader in a more effective way. Arrian also predisposes the reader negatively towards the expedition in India in the introductory section of Nysa at the beginning of Book V. Last, the digression on Alexander’s greed at the beginning of Book VII creates a dark shadow over all the ensuing points where Arrian will discuss Alexander’s future plans.

 2 See Chapter IV, p. 213 n. 111. 3 Stadter 1967, 156. See, contra, HCA I, 8 with further bibliography.

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. Originality of judgment However, it may still be objected that, with all his compositional merits, Arrian never managed to distance his judgment of Alexander and his expedition from the opinions he read in his sources. We saw that this view has traditionally cast a shadow over the scholarship of Arrian, as is testified by the thoughts of Kornemann, Brunt, and Pearson quoted in the Introduction and the opening remarks to Chapter II. In fact, the studies of Arrian, whether historical, literary, or intellectual, were never freed from this verdict. In the most recent treatise of the Anabasis, Bogdan Burliga vouches for Arrian’s intention to differentiate his portrait of Alexander from others offered in the contemporary literature.4 Nonetheless, Burliga strikingly concludes that: The ultimate result of the historian’s critical inspection of so many varying sources […] is that his judgment does not differ, however, from the judgments of Alexander found in the sources he actually criticizes.5

Arrian wrote about a distant past basing his account on the sole windows open to this past, the written sources at his disposal and the current debates on Alexander. Furthermore, similarly to most writers of his age occupied with such labyrinthine tasks, he undoubtedly shaped his view of Alexander on the basis of what he read and heard. Nonetheless, this does not necessarily entail that he blindly followed the judgments he found in his sources – whether out of unwillingness to penetrate them6 or out of naivety.7 On the contrary, the reading of the Anabasis proposed in this book proves, I believe, that his narrative innovations reflect nothing less than his ideological and interpretive distancing from his sources. In support to this view, let us return to some narrative innovations of Arrian which reflect a certain degree of independence of his judgment from those of his sources. In Chapter II, we demonstrated that Arrian left in the background the crisis in Alexander’s relationship with the troops. We also explained that he instead laid special emphasis on the alleged intention of Alexander to first punish Darius and then his murderers. Was Arrian foolishly convinced by his sources that things were that smooth and romantic at that period? We might easily succumb to the temptation to answer this question affirmatively. After all, this strikes us as a very plausible scenario, since the mask of the “avenger”, either targeting  4 Mostly from those offered by Plutarch and Dio Chrysostom. See Burliga 2013, Chapter V. 5 Burliga 2013, 108. 6 Pearson 1960, 192. 7 Brunt 1976, x and xxxiv.

232  General Conclusions Darius or his murderers, was a well-planned pro-Macedonian piece of rhetoric. And, yes, Arrian undeniably found it in sources favorable to Alexander. And yet even so, it would be naive to conclude that Arrian was deceived by these propagandistic catchwords. He was fully aware of their embellishing nature and merely used them in the service of his own narrative design, which in turn conveys nobody else’s but his own, favorable, judgment of Alexander’s operations in the years 331–329 BCE. For, although some of his sources seem to have dated the beginning of the complications in Alexander’s relationship with his men somewhere shortly after the victory at Issus, Arrian decided not to follow them and to clean from his chapters of those years (ch. 3.19–30) all information relevant to the matter, whether by omitting it or by deemphasizing it. Let us see those passages in the Anabasis that support this view. Arrian knew that, shortly after the battle of Issus, Parmenio had openly expressed his disagreement with Alexander’s decision to turn down Darius’ peace offer (2.25.2). However, this episode is merely mentioned as a highlight of Alexander’s fluency. Arrian also read in Ptolemy’s and Aristobulus’ accounts that Parmenio’s son too, Philotas, had already started adopting a cold attitude towards Alexander during their stay in Egypt (3.26.1). He also knew that Philotas’ hostility during that period coincided with the first reactions of the Macedonians against Alexander’s wish to be treated as a god due to his alleged lineage to Ammon Zeus (4.9.9). The historian also knew that Clitus had opposed Alexander’s adoption of the oriental royal etiquette long before his death (4.8.4). He also knew that the adoption itself had been gradually being prepared by Alexander since his visit at Egypt (4.9.9). Last but not least, as a man of a life-long experience in military affairs, Arrian was certainly in a position to conceive that the opposition of such influential leaders of the Macedonian army (Parmenio, Philotas, and Clitus) must have reasonably created a general atmosphere of unwillingness and dissatisfaction in at least some sectors of the troops. Besides, he had read in his sources about the unwillingness of some of these forces to move on during those years, such as the Thessalians (5.27.5). He also read in his sources that exactly for these reasons Alexander had Parmenio killed (3.26.4) and limited Clitus’ sphere of influence by appointing next to him Hephaestion as hipparch in charge of the Companions (3.27.4). As transpires from these passages, Arrian was provided by his sources with all the pieces of the puzzle that he needed in order to set forth the crisis in 331– 329 BCE. He could have touched upon the troops’ reluctance to continue the campaign and upon their opposition to Alexander’s adoption of the oriental etiquette. He could then have related Philotas’ conspiracy with this general atmosphere of dissatisfaction and he could have addressed the impact of Parmenio’s, Philotas’,

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and Clitus’ opposition on the morale and mood of the army. However, all these elements never came into a narrative whole on the deterioration of Alexander’s relationship with the Macedonians. What we have been offered by Arrian is instead the idealizing march-narrative of ch. 3.19–30. In this segment of the work, all these pieces of information listed above are offered in a colorless fashion and remain disconnected from each other. Parmenio, Philotas, and Clitus are thereby skillfully turned from examples representative of a general situation into isolated black spots and thus exceptions in an otherwise idyllic canvas of concord. Should we overlook the fact that Arrian had both enough experience and evidence for an apt appreciation of the situation? Should we rather see his idealizing narrative of this period as a result of his inability to read between the lines? In this case, we should then also wonder whom this way of thinking underestimates first: Arrian or the Romans, who must then have repeatedly entrusted to such a simpleminded figure a number of key offices? To my mind, these observations are especially crucial, as they shed new light on Arrian’s contribution to the history of Alexander’s reception. The gradual deterioration of Alexander’s conduct in issues of power and war was, as we saw, definitely not Arrian’s innovation. What Arrian, however, did offer in comparison with his predecessors is that his own dynamic portrait foregrounded the fall of Alexander’s character and popularity later than some previous accounts did, including, perhaps, those of Aristobulus and Ptolemy. After all, it was their accounts where Arrian read about Philotas’ plotting in Egypt, and the fact that he shrank the significance of the matter in the reader’s eyes does not necessitate that both Ptolemy and Aristobulus had been equally laconic on these affairs. Even if they were, they, and plausibly others as well, clearly offered Arrian all the material necessary for him to have a faithful picture of the crisis of 331–329 BCE. Rather, Arrian’s contribution to the history of Alexander’s reception lies inter alia in the fact that he consciously focused on Alexander’s moral fall later in his narrative than some of his sources did. The comparison with the sole alternative dynamic portrait at our disposal, that of Curtius, strengthens this view even further. This is because Curtius emphasizes the crisis in both Alexander’s mentality and his affairs with his men much earlier in his account than Arrian did.8 Arrian’s decision to refrain his criticisms of Alexander until Book IV is a conscious choice and was dictated by his own, positive, view of the events until 329/328 BCE. What remains is to discuss his view not only of those years but of the whole campaign. However, let us first consider one further assumption of the proposed narrative analysis that betrays Arrian’s sophisticated interaction with the judgments  8 See Chapter II, pp. 98–100 and Chapter III, p. 153.

234  General Conclusions found in his sources. I am referring to the discrepancy we noted between Books I–III and Books IV–VII in his attitude towards issues of religious propaganda. As demonstrated in Chapter I, Arrian’s cold treatment of Alexander’s propagandistic exploitation of Heracles and Dionysus (Books IV–V) stands in sharp contrast to his leniency towards the same policy in the Tyrus affair. In the episodes of Aornus and Nysa, Arrian explicitly deems the rumors about the presence of Heracles and Dionysus in those cities as mere propaganda. For Arrian, Alexander encouraged the circulation of those stories in order to convince his men to follow him where neither Heracles nor Dionysus had allegedly reached. These statements show Arrian’s ability to apprehend the devious character of these stories. Most importantly, these statements also reveal Arrian’s willingness, when he wished it so, to share with his audience his cold verdicts on these fabrications. Subsequently, in light of his extrovert perspicacity in this matter in Books IV and V, Arrian’s reluctance to uncover equally deceitful stories about Alexander’s dreams of Heracles in the Tyrus affair should not be seen as a result of his naivety or piety but of his encomiastic goal-setting at this part of his work. He himself admits that “the [i.e. supernatural] stories are easy enough to refute and it is tedious to relate the old tales and then prove them false” (Ind. 31.9). Arrian used supernatural stories in the first part of the work, because he knew that they could implicitly convey the impression to some readers that Alexander was predestinated by the gods to conquer the Persian Empire. His unwillingness to do the same in the last books reflects his disapproval of the operations in India. Arrian’s rhetorical abuse of supernatural stories is not incongruous with his sincere religiosity. Many passages in the Anabasis and in his other works justifiably lead to the conclusion that Arrian was a religious man and that he approached his life and the lives of others, including Alexander’s, with “an oldworld piety.”9 However, Arrian, as a military leader, politician, and life-long participant in the religious institutions both of Nicomedia and Rome, was also aware that religion often served for local aristocracy and rulers as a source of authority and control of the masses. It has been argued that Arrian certifies supernatural stories with the naivety of a simpleminded man. On the contrary, I would rather say that he does so with the self-confidence of an experienced aristocrat cognizant of how effectively these fascinating stories could convey messages to the masses.10

 9 Brunt 1976, xi. 10 I have elsewhere (Liotsakis 2019a forthcoming) offered a detailed analysis of the way Arrian manipulates his audience by means of supernatural episodes.

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However, some questions still remain: Why did Arrian still keep his criticisms of Alexander for the second part of the Anabasis? Why did he idealize Alexander’s relationship with the Macedonians in his work and, mainly, in the first three books? Why did he purposely stop in Books IV–VII promoting the pro-Macedonian rhetoric depiction of Alexander as the predestined by the gods to rule Asia? And, subsequently, why did he embrace the occupation of the Persian Empire and not that of the Scythians and the Indians? Last but not least, was he influenced only by his sources in this respect or did he consolidate his own judgment also from the perspective of his own age? In order to answer these questions, we should now discuss Arrian’s view not of Alexander but of the expedition as a historical phenomenon. The key passage in this respect lies in the paragraphs of Arrian’s teleological explanation of Darius’ fall (2.6.6–7): καί τι δαιμόνιον τυχὸν ἦγεν αὐτὸν εἰς ἐκεῖνον τὸν χῶρον, οὗ μήτε ἐκ τῆς ἵππου πολλὴ ὠφέλεια αὐτῷ ἐγένετο, μήτε ἐκ τοῦ πλήθους αὐτοῦ τῶν τε ἀνθρώπων καὶ τῶν ἀκοντίων τε καὶ τοξευμάτων, μηδὲ τὴν λαμπρότητα αὐτὴν τῆς στρατιᾶς ἐπιδεῖξαι ἠδυνήθη, ἀλλὰ Ἀλεξάνδρῳ τε καὶ τοῖς ἀμφ’ αὐτὸν εὐμαρῶς τὴν νίκην παρέδωκεν. ἐχρῆν γὰρ ἤδη καὶ Πέρσας πρὸς Μακεδόνων ἀφαιρεθῆναι τῆς Ἀσίας τὴν ἀρχήν, καθάπερ οὖν Μήδοι μὲν πρὸς Περσῶν ἀφῃρέθησαν, πρὸς Μήδων δὲ ἔτι ἔμπροσθεν Ἀσσύριοι. Moreover, some divine power led Darius into the very position [i.e. at Issus] where his cavalry did not much help him, nor the number of his men and javelins and arrows, where he could make no display even of the splendor of his army, but delivered the victory easily to Alexander and his force. In fact it was destined that the Persians should forfeit the sovereignty of Asia to Macedonians, just as Medes had lost it to Persians, and Assyrians even earlier to Medes.

To Arrian’s mind, Alexander, in defeating Darius and taking over the rule of the Persian Empire, was serving the universal law of the succession of empires. Now, this teleological view of the Persians’ succession by the Macedonians should be examined alongside the author’s view that the conquerors were in that case culturally superior to the conquered. This is clear in his criticism of Alexander’s adoption of the Iranian royal protocol (4.7.4). However, Arrian did not need his sources in order to reach such a verdict of the Macedonian campaign in Asia. The origins of his view should rather be traced in the way he lived his life and experienced the world. Arrian was not merely a Greek subject of Rome; he was also a representative and great lover of the Roman world order. From boyhood until the later years of his life, he had been participating in the political life of both his homeland Bithynia and Rome. In this respect, Alexander’s achievement was for him admirable not only as a military feat; Alexander was also, and most importantly, the generator of the world system

236  General Conclusions where Arrian grew up and developed his successful career. Being the founder of the western civilization and world order as Arrian knew it, Alexander was seen by him and many other Greeks of Asia of the Imperial Era as the man who gave them the opportunity to live free from the barbaric rule. In this respect, Arrian’s admiration of Alexander should not only be seen as the love of a Greek under Rome for his glorious ancestor. This admiration should also be taken as the gratitude of a representative of the Roman status quo to one of its very first establishers. Arrian saw the conquest of the Persian Empire as the victory of political order and cultural balance and as the end of the dominion of the barbarians in his territory.11 This interpretation explains his cold attitude towards peoples such as the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans (Chapter I). Arrian saw the conquest of those peoples by Alexander as the establishment of political order over chaos. In his view, Alexander, by conquering them, transformed them from an affliction to an incompetent barbaric empire into civilized participants of the western world order. Hence, all the favorable omens of the first three books (the thunders after the untying of the Gordian knot; the eagle in Miletus; the crows in the Egyptian desert) aim at implying to the reader that what was predestined was not only Alexander’s rule of Asia but the triumph of the western, Greco-Roman, world over the old and unwelcome barbaric past.12 Until Darius’ death, Alexander is presented as the protector of order and culture, satisfying in this way the philosophical demand – be it Stoic or Peripatetic or whatever else it may have been13 – that a conqueror should not conquer out of arrogance and greed but in order to bring about harmony and prosperity to the world. This is also the logic in which Arrian disapproved of Alexander’s operations against the Scythians and the whole campaign in India. In Book IV, Arrian conveys the impression that the gods opposed to Alexander’s wish to move against the Scythians. This narrative choice reflects Arrian’s own judgment and not those of his sources. For, as explained in Chapter I, although he could have followed those sources at his disposal (e.g. Onesicritus) by presenting Alexander as a culture hero, Arrian judged that in the Scythians’ case Alexander did not bring har-

 11 Cf. Burliga 2013. 12 Cf. Sisti’s (AAA I, 412) view that Arrian implicitly anticipates here the Roman imperium. See also HCA I, 202, for the popularity of the topos of the succession of the empires. 13 Despite the Stoic flavor that is prevalent throughout the Anabasis, the views that resemble Stoic doctrines already pre-existed in Herodotus, Thucydides and others. It is unnecessarily restrictive to deem these views of Arrian as originating exclusively from his Stoic background.

Originality of judgment  237

mony in the way he did with the Uxians, the Mardi, and the Cossaeans. The Scythians are presented as being already virtuous and civilized. For the same reason Arrian disapproves of the expedition in India, and not because he is influenced by his sources. The only cases in which Arrian questions the necessity of a phase in the campaign in Asia are those of the Scythians (implicitly through narrative schemes analysed in Chapter I) and of the Indians (three authorial comments). It is not a coincidence that in both cases he expresses his admiration to their culture and socio-political organization. In his mind, Alexander is legitimized to conquer as long as he brings balance through his conquests and not when he destroys the already existing world harmony in the service of his personal aspirations. Arrian avoided touching upon the criticisms of Alexander until Book IV in order to stress even further in the reader’s mind the difference of mentality between the enterprises until and beyond the Indus. The fact that he embellished Alexander’s policy of the years 334–328 BCE in every respect certainly does not reflect the influence of his sources upon his estimations. He no doubt could discern that Alexander’s policy of that period was characterized by the same coldblooded expediency as that of his policy in the last years of the campaign. However, in Arrian’s view, until his decision to move beyond the Indus, Alexander at least served a predestined plan nobler than his own aspirations; the laying of the foundations of the Greco-Roman dominion in the East. And this effort of Alexander deserves, in Arrian’s mind, all the embellishing rhetoric of a narrator. On the contrary, those operations that are seen by Arrian as serving mainly Alexander’s love for conquests are equally rhetorically presented in a negative manner. It is also worth expressing some thoughts on Arrian’s view of the years from Darius’ death until the expedition in India. Arrian narrates the events of this period in Books III and IV. As demonstrated in Chapters I and II, while he treats favorably the operations until Bessus’ arrest in the march-narrative of ch. 3.19– 30, Arrian lays emphasis on Alexander’s arrogance in the occupations of the rocks in Book IV. One could thus reach the simplistic conclusion that Arrian recognizes the necessity of the operations described in Book III and that he rejects those of Book IV. However, this is definitely not the case. Arrian considered this period necessary in its entirety. These were the years in which Alexander was invited, in Arrian’s mind, to consolidate his rule of the Persian Empire. Besides, nowhere in the rock narratives does Arrian question the necessity of those enterprises in the way he does with the Scythian and the Indian affairs. However, although recognizing their importance for the establishment of the balance of the empire, Arrian discerned that Alexander had already started during these events acting out of megalomania and vanity. These operations, although necessary, are

238  General Conclusions presented in dark shades, because they foreshadow the absolute loss of moderation in the cold-blooded massacres of the Indians. The occupations of the Sogdian rocks in the years 328–327 BCE must thus have been the most controversial events to Arrian’s judgment. For in his mind these feats did not only constitute measures of consolidation of the rule of the Persian Empire; they were also seen by Arrian as preparatory of the unjustified continuation of the war beyond the Indus. Had Alexander not moved on to India, Arrian might have not emphasized Alexander’s arrogance in Book IV to the same degree that he did. Of course, many questions are still waiting for an answer, questions that transcend the limits of the scope in this book. However, I would dare to conclude by saying that it is now time for the scholarship of Arrian to enter a new era – an era in which his stylistic ingenuity will no more be examined separately from the issue of the originality of his speculations about Alexander’s career. In this respect, narrative analysis, in joint action with historical and intellectual studies of Arrian, can help us at last overcome the fact that his sources are today lost and discern more accurately and with more confidence on what levels he differentiated his verdicts from the opinions at his disposal. This goes even for Arrian’s departure from those opinions he found in his principal sources, Ptolemy and Aristobulus.

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Index nominum et rerum Abastanes 73 Abdera 19 Abreas 196, 200 Abydus 173 Acesines 33 n. 46, 49 n. 85, 73, 118 Achaeans 191–192, 210 Achaemenid Dynasty 89 Achilleion 218 Achilles 8, 11–13, 12 nn. 32–33 and 35, 78–79, 97 n. 46, 163–168, 166 n. 13, 167 n. 17, 173–179, 173 n. 31, 184–185, 184 n. 62, 197–198, 200–204, 214–225, 229 Acuphis 44 Admetus 169–170 Adrasteia 222 Aeacids 217 Aegae 173 Aegean 28–29, 46, 54, 105 Aegobares 160 Aelian 93 n. 38, 133 n. 28 Aelius Aristides 163 n. 4, 178 nn. 43–44, 181–182, 181 n. 56 Aeneas 221 Aeolis 95 Aeschines 163 n. 4 Aeschylus 61 n. 100 Agamemnon 167–168, 171–172, 189 Agesilaus 103 n. 61, 127 n. 10 Agrianians 54–55, 76, 155 n. 65 Aias 172, 181 n. 57, 189 Alani 5, 99, 211 Alcibiades 79–80 Alexander the Great – adoption of Eastern customs 18–21, 23, 86, 90, 92, 111–112, 120, 122, 133–134, 147, 157, 159–160 – anger/rage 19–20, 30, 35–38, 40, 43, 77, 81, 96, 136, 213, 229 – arrogance 46–47, 61–62, 77, 81, 92, 116, 118, 132, 135–136, 212–214, 227, 229, 236–238 – as liberator of Greece 88–89, 93, 111, 122, 146 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-008

– confidence 33–43, 110, 212 – deification 41 n. 69, 45, 47, 134 – dynamic portrait of 9–10, 14–80, 81, 85–86, 122–123, 128, 132, 143, 226, 229–230, 233 – fortune 15, 21, 39–40, 39 n. 63, 74, 117, 137 – greed 9, 46, 64, 75–76, 81, 88, 100, 120, 136, 138–139, 227, 230, 236 – hubris 9, 19, 40, 75, 116, 118, 135–136, 202 – imitatio Alexandri 224 – immoderation 9, 14–15, 21, 23, 72, 132–133, 139, 172, 201, 229 – intellectual skills 9, 79f., 81, 94 – narrative tradition of 1–13, 55 n. 93, 107, 120, 128, 133 – proskynesis 18–23, 132, 134 – relationship with his troops 23, 46–48, 80, 86–100, 112–118, 125–162, 231– 238 – relationship with philosophy 138–139 – vanity 35–43 Alexander, son of Aeropus 31 n. 40, 83 n. 3, 149–152, 150 n. 52, 161 Amminapes 95 Ammon Zeus 132, 134, 230, 232 Amphipolis 8, 141, 173 Amphitrite 178 n. 43 Amyntas, son of Andromenes 186, 188 Amyntas, son of Antiochus 109, 153–154, 154 nn. 62 and 64, 161 Anatolians 86, 90, 92, 110–112, 122, 130–131, 133–134, 157, 226–227 Anaxarchus of Abdera 19, 47, 132 Anaximenes of Lampsacus 154 n. 63 Anaxippus 110 Anchialus 54 Ancyra 54 Andromache 11, 165, 180–184, 181 n. 57, 184 n. 62, 187, 216–217, 223 anecdotes 15 n. 6, 19–20, 30–31, 46, 82– 83, 83 n. 3, 87, 213, 125–143, 155, 161, 201–203

258  Index nominum et rerum Anthemion 189 Antigone 153 Antigonus 141 Antilebanon 55 Antiochus 109, 153 Aornus 33 n. 46, 36, 40–42, 40 n. 65, 45, 47, 116, 234 Aphrodite 178 n. 43, 221 Apion 129 n. 13 Apollo 31, 178 nn. 43–44, 210, 222 Apollodorus of Amphipolis 141 Apollodorus (pseudo–), mythographer 221 n. 129 Arabia 55, 74–75 Arabs 55, 75 Arachosia 89, 93 Aradus 29 Aramaeans 217 Arbela 95 Areia 89, 93, 99, 109–110, 160 Ariamazes 35 n. 52 Ariaspae 70 n. 112, 101, 106–107, 107 n. 70 Arima 217 Arimi 217 Arion 218 Aristander 30–32, 32 n. 43, 40, 62–63, 149, 173, 176–177, 176 n. 41 Aristobulus of Cassandreia, son of Aristobulus 2–4, 3 n. 7, 12, 19, 66 n. 108, 84, 104, 113, 115 n. 80, 133 n. 28, 138 n. 36, 139, 141, 147, 153–154, 187, 218– 219, 219 n. 122, 224–225, 232–233, 238 Aristobulus, father of Aristobulus 2 Aristocles 154 n. 63 Aristomedes of Pherae 154 n. 63 Aristonicus 168–169, 201 n. 93 Aristophanes 192 n. 79 Aristophon 95 Aristotle 11–12, 12 n. 32, 36 n. 54, 167, 178 n. 44 Aristus 3 n. 7 Arsaces, satrap of Areia 101 Arsames 27, 110 n. 74 Artabazus 89, 101, 105, 110 n. 74, 160 Artacoana 101, 152 Artaxerses II 23

Artemidorus 32 n. 43 Artemis 210 Artiboles 160 Ascania 70 n. 112 Asclepiades 3 n. 7 Asclepius 202–204 Asia 2, 8, 12, 21, 44 n. 74, 51–52, 54, 59– 60, 62, 64, 70 n. 112, 74, 89, 93 n. 38, 98–100, 106, 111, 113, 115–116, 122, 129–131, 137–139, 147, 149–150, 158, 161, 166, 170, 173, 184 n. 61, 190, 214, 216, 219–222, 235–237 Asia Minor 51, 52 n. 91, 54, 63, 222 Asians 62, 99, 111–112, 221 Aspendians 42 Aspendus 33 n. 46, 42–43, 52 Assus 215 Assyria 70 n. 112, 140, 235 atemporality/anachronies 122–162 Athena 175, 178 n. 43, 220 Athenaeus 2 n. 6, 218 Athenians 23, 37–38, 79, 145 Athens 19, 38, 79, 95, 124 n. 2, 132, 134– 135, 143, 145–146, 186 Atizyes 110 n. 74 Atropates 106, 110 n. 74 Attaleia 216 Atticism 6 Atticus 127 n. 10 Autariates 155 n. 65 authorial comments 3–4, 9–10, 14–17, 16 n. 9, 19, 21, 32, 39, 42, 47, 57, 59, 62, 68–77, 81–82, 85–87, 93–94, 102, 124, 134–140, 146–147, 174, 184 n. 61, 193, 201 n. 93, 214, 226, 237 Autophradates 29, 105 Azemilcus 106 Babylon 31 n. 40, 88 n. 22, 138, 140–141, 161, 202 Babylonia 106 Babylonians 70 n. 112 Bactra 101, 104 Bactrians 60, 65 Bargylia 215 Barsaentes 89, 93, 101, 103, 107–111, 123, 143, 146

Index nominum et rerum  259

Barsine 129 n. 17, 142 Bateia 221 battle descriptions 10, 12, 26, 33–34, 33 n. 46, 49–51, 50 n. 89, 67–69, 72–73, 82, 83 n. 3, 94, 102, 164, 166–172, 185– 200, 204, 209, 211–213, 215, 218 n. 118, 222–223, 225 Beinahe episodes 25–26, 25 n. 25, 59, 63, 229 Belus 70 n. 112, 140–141 Bessus 10, 18, 20–21, 20 n. 16, 23, 66 n. 108, 85–86, 89–92, 98–121, 123, 132, 237 Betis 13 n. 35 biography 5, 12, 20, 78, 102, 104, 125– 127, 128 n. 11, 138, 142 n. 39, 164 Bisthanes 92 Bithynians 180, 221, 235 Black Sea 5, 60, 114, 221 Boeotia 221 Boeotians 37 n. 58 book division 45–46, 75, 81, 228, 230 Brahmins 46, 72, 138–139, 142 n. 40, 201 n. 93, 214 Brisēis 13 n. 35 Britannic Islands 74 Bucephalas 124 Byblus 29 Cadmean land 25 Cadmus 221 Caesar 37 n. 54, 127 n. 10 Calanus 46, 138, 140–142, 201 n. 93 Calchas 220 Callisthenes of Olynthus 12 n. 32, 18–20, 22–23, 32 n. 43, 64 n. 105, 116, 123, 132–136, 132 n. 26, 135 n. 33, 142, 187, 212, 215–219, 216 n. 113, 218 nn. 117– 118, 224 Calycadnus 217 Cambyses I 23 Cappadocia 5, 54, 99 Caria 95, 215 Carmania 146 Carthage 79 Caspian Gates 92 Caspian Sea 60, 74–75, 101, 114

Cassandra 220 Castor 22 Cathaeans 68 Celaenae 33 n. 46, 42–43 Celts 15 n. 6 Chaeronea, battle of 167 Chaldaeans 31 n. 40, 140 challenge narratives 32–43, 33 n. 46 Chares of Mytilene 133 n. 28, 55 Choerilus, epic poet 61 n. 100 Choes 49 n. 85 Chorienes 33 n. 46, 36, 38–40, 42 Cilicia 51, 54, 95, 113, 115, 216–217, 219 Cilician Gates 54 Cilicians 55, 216–217 Cleander, son of Polemocrates 146 Clearchus 23 Cleitarchus 13 n. 36, 55, 142 n. 39 Clitus, son of Dropides 18–23, 103 n. 64, 116, 123, 132–134, 136, 142, 154–155, 186, 230, 232–233 Clitus, Illyrian son of Bardylis 8, 49, 51 Coenus, son of Polemocrates 68, 118, 157–159, 168 Colcheans 178 n. 43 comedy 191, 206 Companions 59, 90–91, 95, 113, 141, 160, 167 n. 17, 232 conspiracy of the pages 18–19, 23, 123, 133 Cophen 44, 160 Corinthian League 89, 92, 98, 146 Cornelius Nepos 127 n. 10 Corycian cave 217 Cos 105 Cossaeans 58–60, 62, 77, 236–237 Craterus 76, 112, 171 Croesus 140 crossing of a river 33 n. 46, 34, 49 nn. 85–86, 60, 62 n. 102, 71, 76, 91, 117, 140, 159, 170, 183, 186–188 Croton 89 Curtius Rufus 2 n. 3, 4, 12, 13 n. 36, 31, 32 n. 43, 39 n. 63, 55 n. 92, 58, 60–61, 61 n. 101, 80, 87–88, 98, 105–107, 106 n. 69, 136, 142, 153–154, 154 n. 62, 216, 233

260  Index nominum et rerum Cyprus 28–29, 153 Cyrenaeans 113 Cyropolis 171 Cyrsilus of Pharsalus 60 Cyrus I 23, 61, 64, 72, 106–107, 147 Damascus 106 n. 69, 143–144 Dandamis 138 Danube 8, 60 Dardania 221–222 Dardanus 221–222 Darius I 23, 62, 64, 181 n. 57 Darius III 10, 18, 23, 28, 34, 44 n. 74, 54, 56, 72, 85–90, 92–121, 119 n. 82, 122– 124, 129, 131, 142–145, 154, 188, 190– 195, 195 n. 85, 201 n. 93, 204, 212–214, 213 n. 111, 225, 229, 231–232, 235–237 Dataphernes 66 n. 108, 104 Demades 167 Demaratus 186 Demeter 178 n. 43, 221 Demetrius, son of Althaemenes 71 Democritus 34 n. 51, 178 n. 44 Demodocus 178 n. 44 Demosthenes 12 n. 32, 126, 163 n. 4 digressions 3, 10, 15, 17 n. 13, 18–23, 37– 38, 40, 42–43, 45–47, 46 n. 80, 64, 68, 70 n. 112, 81, 83, 92, 96, 101, 112–116, 123–143, 151, 153, 155, 162, 200, 201 n. 93, 216, 229–230 Dio Chrysostom 163 n. 4, 178–179 n. 44, 231 n. 4 Diodorus of Sicily 2 n. 3, 12, 13 n. 36, 16 nn. 8 and 10, 26 n. 28, 36 n. 54, 55, 58, 87–88, 98, 107, 119, 142 n. 39, 154, 169 n. 25, 185–189, 185 n. 67, 197–199, 224 Diogenes 46, 138, 142 n. 40 Diomedes 189 Dionysius of Halicarnassus 168 n. 20 Dionysodorus 145 Dionysus 43–47, 58, 75, 116, 178 n. 43, 213 n. 111, 234 Dioscuri 18, 22, 134 direct speech 31, 187 distances 24 n. 22, 49, 82–85, 92, 101 n. 57, 122, 219 Don 60

Drangiana 76, 89, 93 Drangians 101, 108 Dropides 155 Eastern Ocean 115 Ecbatana 18, 89, 92, 99, 202 Edessa 207 Eetion 222 Egypt 2, 28–29, 32, 56, 95, 150, 152–154, 154 nn. 62 and 64, 193, 211, 232–233, 236 Egyptians 70 n. 112 Egyptus instead of the name Nile 211 Elaeus 173 Emodus 115 emplotment 28 n. 32 Enyalius 188 n. 74 Enylus 29 Eordaicus 49–50 Ephippus of Olynthus 133 n. 28 Ephorus 60 n. 98, 168 n. 20 Epic Cycle 220 Epictetus 5, 174, 181–182, 208 Epidaurians 202–203 Epidaurus 202 Epigoni (Successors) 160 Epirus 5, 11 Eratosthenes 45, 114, 115 n. 80 Erichthonius 221 Erigyius 112, 150–151 Eros 178 n. 43 ethnography 11, 63, 69–70, 70 n. 112, 77, 106, 220, 222 Euagoras 127 n. 10 Eumelus 192 Eunaeus 222 Euphrates 49 n. 85, 74, 87, 88 n. 18, 106 Euripides 127 n. 10, 140 Europe 8, 21, 46–47, 49, 51, 60, 64, 74, 77, 137, 221 Europeans 59, 221 Eurydice 150–151 Eustathius 218 n. 117, 220–222 Eythycles 145–146

Index nominum et rerum  261

fear 19, 25, 27–28, 34, 50 n. 89, 60, 67, 73, 111, 118, 193–194, 213 First Preface 1–2, 8, 164, 173, 175, 184 n. 61, 201–202 Fish–eaters 70 n. 112 focalization 11, 38, 39 n. 61, 48 framing 86–87, 93–96, 98, 102–105, 120, 122, 128, 136–139, 225, 227, 229 Gadrosians 101 Gaugamela 10, 56, 86–89, 91, 94–96, 99–100, 103, 106, 111, 129 n. 15, 132– 133, 165, 168, 190–195, 204, 209, 211– 213, 213 n. 110 Gaza 32–36, 38, 43, 54, 65, 77, 83 n. 3, 193 Gedrosian desert 67 n. 110, 71 n. 113, 117–118, 123, 130–131, 131 n. 23, 142, 156 n. 72 genealogy 11, 222 geographical data Gerostratus 29, 110 n. 74 Getae 49 Glaucias, doctor 202 Glaucias, king of the Taulantians 49, 110 n. 74 Glaucus 170 n. 26 Gordian knot 44 n. 74, 93, 230, 236 Gordium 55, 230 Graces 178 n. 43 Granicus, battle of 19, 27 n. 30, 33 n. 46, 34, 49 n. 85, 51, 73, 83 n. 3, 95, 102, 110 n. 74, 165, 170, 175, 183–189, 193, 199, 204, 209, 211–213, 222–223, 225 Greece 11–12, 28–29, 44, 46, 53, 79, 139, 146, 167, 184, 220, 224 Greeks 11, 19, 25, 28, 34, 44, 51 n. 90, 53, 61, 79, 88–90, 93, 95, 111, 120, 122, 146, 158, 166, 201 n. 93, 204, 216, 220, 224, 236 Guardi, Francesco 119 Guraeus 49 n. 85 Hadrian 5, 178 n. 43 Haemus 47, 117 Halicarnassians 26–27, 215

Halicarnassus 24–27, 51–52, 54, 63, 77, 83 n. 3, 95, 149–150, 168 n. 20, 206, 216, 229 Halizones 221 Halys 87 n. 18 hapax legomena 191, 209 Harmonia 221 Harpalus 149–152, 161 Hebrus 49 n. 85 Hector 11, 13 n. 35, 166, 171–172, 180, 183–184, 184 n. 62, 187, 190–193, 197– 200, 210, 214–215, 220, 223–225 Hedonus 220 Hegesias of Magnesia 12 Helenus (Scamandrius) 220–221 Helenus of Thrace 220 Hellenistic age 16 n. 8, 92, 120, 133, 166 Hellenistic epic parody 191, 192 n. 79 Hellenistic historiography 16 n. 8, 153 n. 58, 215–224 Hellespont 34, 173 n. 31, 175, 183, 187, 202 Hephaestion 57, 140–141, 165, 168, 174, 176, 201–205, 209, 232 Hephaestus 178 n. 43 Heracles 18–19, 28, 30–32, 31 n. 39, 38, 40–43, 40 n. 66, 41 n. 69, 45–47, 47 n. 82, 114, 116–118, 134, 170, 173, 223 n. 132, 234 Heracon 146–147 Hermes 178 n.43 Hermolaus, son of Sopolis 20, 23, 135– 136 Herodotus 6, 11 n. 31, 16 nn. 8 and 10, 36 n. 54, 46, 50 n. 89, 60, 64, 69, 73 n. 115, 75 n. 117, 80–81, 164 nn. 6–7, 168 n. 20, 169 n. 25, 170 n. 28, 176 n. 41, 208, 210, 214, 221, 236 n. 13 heroic patterns 166–172 Hindu Kush 91, 102, 112–118 Homer 163–225 Homer and Classical historiography 11– 13, 163 Hydarnes 160 Hydaspes 33 n. 46, 49 n. 85, 69 n. 113, 71, 118

262  Index nominum et rerum Hydaspes, battle of 68, 165, 195 n. 85, 209, 211, 215, 225 Hydraotes 49 n. 85, 68, 71, 195 Hyparna 52, 54 Hyphasis 46–47, 47 n. 82, 68–69, 118, 157, 160–162, 160 n. 79, 230 Hyrcania 74, 90, 95, 100–101, 109, 112 Hyrcanians 95 Hystaspes 160 Ida 215 Iliad 11–12, 78, 97 n. 46, 163–225 Ilion 97 n. 46 Illyrians 173 Ilus 221 Imaon 115 Imperial era 11, 51 n. 90, 80, 142, 163, 181, 205, 214, 236 India 2–3, 27 n. 30, 40–41, 44–46, 49 n. 85, 67–77, 80–81, 87, 100, 109, 114– 115, 118, 120, 138, 158, 211, 214, 230, 234, 236–238 Indian Sea 3 Indians 44, 58, 61 n. 99, 67–77, 108, 196–197, 210, 214, 226, 235, 237–238 indirect speech 31, 136, 187, 201 Indus 3, 40, 43–44, 49 n. 85, 71 n. 113, 73, 76, 108, 211, 237–238 Intaphernes 181 n. 57 Ionia 95 Iphicrates 145–146 Iranians 90, 107, 111, 235 Isocrates 127 n. 10 Issus, battle of 44 n. 74, 47, 54, 73, 83 n. 3, 93–96, 100, 103, 129, 143–145, 151, 153, 154 n. 62, 165, 170, 173 n. 31, 190– 195, 204, 209–213, 218 n. 118, 232, 235 Ister 219 n. 121 Istrus 49 nn. 85–86, 70 n. 112, 117 Itanes 160 Jaxartes (Syr Darya) 60, 62 n. 102, 65–67 Joannes Laurentius Lydus 99 n. 52 Justin 2 n. 3, 87 n. 18, 88 n. 22, 90 n. 27, 93 n. 38, 98, 129 n. 15, 152 n. 55, 153 n. 58

Lacedaemonians 23, 145 Lagus 2, 150, 152 Langarus 155 n. 65 Lanice 103 n. 64, 155 Laomedon 150–151 Laothoe 222 Larichus 150 Lebanon 55 Leleges 215–216, 218 Lemnos 222 Leonnatus 168, 196 Lesbus 105 Libya 21, 137 Life of Atticus 127 n. 10 Life of Euripides 127 n. 10 linearity 10, 23 n. 19, 108, 122–128, 127 n. 10, 132, 142–145, 147–149, 153, 161, 229 Lucian 2 n. 6, 4, 205–207, 212, 225 Lycaon, father of Pandarus 222–223 Lycaon, son of Priam and Laothoe 222– 223 Lycia 51–55, 115, 150–151, 219, 222 Lydia 95 Lyginus 48 Lyrnessus 216–217 Lysimachus of Acarnania 11, 12 n. 32, 167 Macedonian propaganda 25, 28, 30 n. 36, 32, 41, 42 n. 69, 45, 112, 114, 116, 146, 217, 224, 229, 234 Machatas 150 Magarsus 54 Magnesia 12 Malli 66 n. 110, 71–73, 118, 147, 165, 193, 195–201, 203–205, 209, 214–215, 225 Mallus 54 Maracanda 56, 170 march–narrative 9–10, 51, 54, 81–121, 229, 233, 237 Mardi 56–60, 62, 77, 101, 106, 112, 236– 237 Margites 12 Marsyas of Philippi 93 n. 38 Massaga 67 Matro 191–192 Mausolus 216

Index nominum et rerum  263

Maximus of Tyre 178 n. 44 Mazaces 29, 95 Mazaeus 106, 141 Medes 23, 235 Media 89, 92, 106, 111, 146 Medius of Larissa 60 Megaris 150–151 Melas 49 n. 85 Melqart 30 n. 37, 31 n. 39 Memnon 27 n. 30, 105, 142, 186 Memory 178 n. 43 Menaechmus of Sicyon 12, 219, 224 Menander 140 Menander Rhetor 2 n. 6 Menelaus 220 Menidas 168 Merus 44 meta–narrative instructions 16, 143 Milesians 218 Miletus 51–54, 77, 83 n. 3, 218, 236 Mithrenes 110 n. 74 Mithridates 110 n. 74, 186, 188 Mithrobaeus 160 Molossians 11, 217 Molossus 11 motives 16–18, 16 n. 10, 28, 36–37, 41 n. 69, 42 n. 70, 47, 59–60, 62 n. 103, 65, 74–75, 81, 85–86, 93, 97, 105, 110–111, 114, 120, 131, 172, 175, 179, 223, 226– 227 Muses 173, 176–179, 178 nn. 43–44 Musicanus 73, 76 Mycenaean material culture 167 n. 15 Myndus 215–216 Myrmidons 167 Nabarzanes 89, 93, 101, 103, 109–110 Nautaca 35 n. 52 Near Eastern literature 176 n. 41 Nearchus 2–3, 3 n. 8, 57–58, 131 n. 24, 150–151 Neoplatonists 178 n. 44 Neoptolemus, son of Achilles 11, 165, 176, 217 Neoptolemus, the Macedonian 170 Nereids 173 n. 31, 178 Nereus 173 n. 31

Nicobule 133 n. 28 Nicocles 127 n. 10 Nicocrates 143 Nicomedia 1, 234 Nicopolis of Epirus 5 Nile 49 n. 85, 211 Niloxenus 113 Nysa 36, 43–47, 107 n. 70, 116 n. 81, 230, 234 Nysaeans 43–47, 70 n. 112, 213 n. 111 Nyse 44 Ochus 92 Odysseus 78, 178 n. 44, 203, 220 Odyssey 11, 78, 169, 179, 203 Oeagrus 173, 176 office asignments 82–83, 85, 102, 106, 111–112, 122, 147, 150–151 Olympian Games of Aegae 173 Olympias 11 Olympic Games 1 45 omens 31–32, 31 n. 41, 40–42, 44, 53, 62–63, 70 nn. 112–113, 125, 140–141, 149–150, 236 omission 28, 32, 52, 65, 87, 100, 102, 114, 116–117, 120, 122, 180 Onesicritus 12, 60, 223, 236 Opis 23, 57, 157, 159–162 oracles 44 n. 74, 59, 116, 132, 134, 140– 141, 230 originality of judgment 231–238 originality of style 227–230 Orpheus 173, 176–178 Orxines 147 Ossadians 73 Oxicanus 73, 76 Oxus 35 n. 53, 49 n. 85, 91, 102, 112, 117, 159 Oxyartes 33 n. 46, 35, 38–40, 129, 160 Oxyathres 90, 120 Oxydates 92, 111 Oxydracae 71–72 pace (narrative) 10, 54–56, 101, 124 n. 2, 139 Paeonians 155 Pamphylia 51–55, 113, 115, 216–217, 219

264  Index nominum et rerum Pamphylian Sea 117 Pandarus 222 Paraetacae 56, 92 Parapamisadae 91, 114, 117–118, 122, 130–131 Parapamisus (Caucasus) 70 n. 112, 114– 117 Pareitacae 38 Parmenio, son of Philotas 34, 53, 87–89, 106 n. 69, 111, 136, 143, 146, 152 n. 55, 173, 175, 179, 181, 183, 185–187, 212, 213 n. 110, 232–233 Parthyaea 95, 160 Parthyaeans 95, 109, 160 Pasargadae 74, 147 Patara 219 Patroclus 166 n. 13, 174, 176, 201–205, 210, 223 patterns/motifs 9, 58, 127 n. 10, 146, 152, 155 n. 65, 165–172, 176 n. 41, 178 n. 44, 185, 193 n. 83, 199, 203, 223, 229–230 Pausanias, king of Sparta 79–80 Pedasa 215 Pedasis 215 Pedasus 215 Peitho 178 n. 43 Peleus 12 Pella 167 Pellegrini, Giovanni Antonio 119 Pellium 33 n. 46, 49–50 Peloponnesian War 146 Perdiccas, son of Orontes 24, 71, 73, 141, 168, 195 Persephone 222 Persepolis 14, 74, 88–90, 88 n. 22, 92– 93, 95, 111, 134 n. 31, 147, 176 n. 38 Persian Gates 33 n. 46 Persian Gulf 3 Persian Wars 88–89, 93, 111, 120, 122, 146 Persians 23, 27–29, 27 n. 30, 34, 46, 53– 54, 70 n. 112, 79, 89–90, 93, 102–103, 106, 109, 111, 120, 122, 146–148, 154, 157, 185–186, 193 n. 83, 211–212, 235 Peuce 49, 117 Peucestas 140, 147–148, 160, 196

Pharnabazus 105–106 Phaselis 149, 216 Phayllus 89 Pherae 154 n. 63 Philip II 12, 18–19, 21–22, 57–58, 146, 149–152, 155 n. 65, 161, 167 Philo 207 Philostratus 164, 184 Philotas, son of Parmenio 19, 53, 85, 132, 134–136, 135 n. 33, 149, 151–153, 152 n. 55, 162, 232–233 Philoxenus 140 Phocians 37 n. 58 Phoenicia 28–29, 32, 46, 56, 95, 150– 151, 153 Phoenicians 28–29 Phoenix 11 Photius 1 n. 1, 4, 222 Phrataphernes 109, 110 n. 74, 160 Phrygia 27 n. 30, 95 Phrygians 70 n. 112 Pieria 173, 176 Pindar 24, 178 Pisidia 216 Pisidians 52 Pithon 71 Pithagoras of Amphipolis 141–142 pivotal digression 18–23, 132–139 Plataea, battle of 79 Plataeans 37 n. 58 Plato 58 n. 96, 70, 138, 163 n. 4, 178 n. 44 Pliny the Younger 84 Plutarch 2 nn. 3, 5, and 6, 12–13, 31 n. 40, 32 n. 43, 39 n. 63, 55, 58, 61 n. 99, 98–99, 119, 126, 129 n. 17, 133 n. 28, 136, 142, 182–183, 185–189, 185 n. 66, 197–199, 223–225, 231 n. 4 Polemo 178 n. 43 Pollianus 182 Pollux 22 Polybius 16 nn. 8 and 10, 168 n. 20, 212 Polyclitus of Larissa 60, 133 n. 28 Polydamas 210 Pompeius Trogus 2 n. 3 Pomponius Mela 61 n. 100 Porus 72, 94, 195 n. 85, 215

Index nominum et rerum  265

Poseidon 173, 178 n. 43, 218 Priam 173, 175–176, 216, 220, 222 Proclus 178 n. 44 Procopius 168 n. 20 Proexes 113 Prometheus 114, 116 Protesilaus 173, 175–176, 223 Ptolemy, son of Lagus 2–4, 7, 12, 24, 57, 66, 83–85, 102, 104, 115 n. 80, 144, 150–154, 168–169, 187, 192 n. 80, 200, 218, 232–233, 238 Ptolemy, son of Seleucus 170 regicides 108–112 Renaissance 118 repetition 42, 71ff., 87, 97ff., 97 n. 46, 102, 105–108, 110, 114, 118, 120, 122, 144, 153, 177, 195, 229 retardation 124 n. 2, 128, 139–143 Rhagae 92, 97 Rheomithres 110 n. 74 Rhoesakes 186 Rhoxane 13 n. 35, 37, 129–131, 142, 160 ring composition 21, 36 n. 54, 49, 103, 137, 139, 170, 199 rock of Chorienes 33, 36, 38–40, 42 rock of Oxyartes 33 n. 46, 35–38 Rode, Bernhard 119 Roman age 16 n. 8, 164, 178, 236 Romans 61, 99, 224–225, 233 Rome 13, 127 n. 10, 178 n. 43, 224, 234– 236 Rosa, Francesco 118–119 Rough Cilicia 217 Royal Journal 84, 133 n. 28 Sagalassus 33 n. 46, 52 Salamis, battle of 79, 89 Samothrace 221 Sangala 68 Sardanapalus 70 n. 112 Sarpedon 217 Satibarzanes 89, 93, 99–102, 109–111 satyr 31 Satyrus, biographer 127 n. 10 Satyrus, father of Nicoxenus 113 Scamandrius 168, 169 n. 22

Scythians – generally 56, 59–64, 77, 81, 226, 228, 235–237 – Abian 59, 64, 72, 211, 214 – Massagetae 23, 64, 70 n. 112, 106 Second Preface 5, 8, 163–165, 172–185, 201, 205 n. 97, 207, 209 Second Sophistic 5, 163, 178 n. 44, 181, 184, 205, 210 Sestus 173 shame (aidōs) 32–45, 72, 77, 81, 145, 167, 183–184, 187, 193, 212–213, 213 n. 111, 223, 225–226, 229 Sicily 16 n. 10, 36 n. 54, 79, 169 n. 25, 221 Sicyon 12, 219 Side 112 Sidon 29, 55 siege narratives 10, 18, 24–47, 50–55, 77, 82, 83 n. 3, 85, 122, 128, 170–171, 193, 209, 216, 226 Sinope 106, 138 Sinopeans 106 Sisicottus 110 n. 74 Sitalces II 146 Siwah 70 n. 112, 116, 118, 132, 134, 153, 230 Sochi 44 n. 74, 54 Sogdiana 18, 43, 77, 100, 113, 227, 238 Sogdians 35–36, 56, 60, 65, 73, 113, 160 Soli 54, 217 Solon 140 Sophocles 181 n. 57 Sparta 46, 79, 106, 145 Spartans 79, 106, 145–146 speeches – at Gaugamela 199 – at the Hyphasis 46–47, 47 n. 82, 118, 157–159 – at Issus 47, 199 – at Opis 57–58, 205 n. 97 – at Tyre 28–29, 38 – of Acuphis 44 – of Callisthenes 19, 22–23, 64, 132 – of Hermolaus 20, 136 Spitamenes 66 n. 108, 104 Spithridates 110 n. 74, 186 Stateira 129–131, 142

266  Index nominum et rerum Stephanus of Byzantium 1 n. 1, 2 n. 5, 219 Stoicism 4, 208 n. 104, 236 Strabo 2 nn. 5–6, 3, 15 n. 6, 16 n. 8, 58, 215, 217 Strattis of Olynthus 133 n. 28 Strymon 49 n. 85 substitutio 191, 192 n. 79 Suetonius 36 n. 54, 127 n. 10 surprise 33, 38, 40, 42, 49–50, 50 n. 89, 56, 62, 67–68, 70 n. 113, 73, 229 Susa 88, 111, 147 Susia 101, 109–110 suspense 27, 33, 49 Syangela 216 Syllium 52 Synesius 2 n. 5 Syrians 106, 217 Syrmus 110 n. 74 Tanais 60 Tapurians 112 Tarsians 27 Tarsus 28, 54, 63, 229 Taulantians 49 Tauriscus 151 Taurus 113, 115, 150 Tecmessa 181 n. 57 Telamon 189, 218 Telemachus 78–79 Telephus 219 Telmissians 70 n. 112 Telmissus 34 n. 46, 42–43, 177 temporal displacement 10, 23 n. 19, 102, 122–123, 144 temporal markers 101 n. 57, 108, 122, 124 n. 2, 126, 151 Ten Thousand 23 Tenedus 105 Teucre 218 Teucrus 210, 221 Theaneira 218 Thebans 24–25, 37, 51, 65, 145–146 Thebē 216–217 Thebes 8, 24–25, 27–28, 37, 44, 51, 63, 66 n. 110, 77, 124, 145–146, 168, 173, 221, 229 Themistocles 79–80

Thersites 167 Thessalians 158–159, 232 Thessaliscus 145 Thetis 173 n. 31, 204 Thrace 149–150, 173, 220 Thracians 8, 33 n. 46, 47–48, 50 Thucydides 6, 11 n. 31, 16 nn. 8–10, 24 n. 23, 25 n. 25, 36 n. 54, 46, 50 n. 89, 64 n. 106, 69, 73 n. 115, 75 n. 117, 78, 80– 81, 164 nn. 6–7, 169 n. 25, 170 n. 28, 176 n. 41, 208, 236 n. 13 Tigris 74, 140 Tlepolemus, son of Pythophanes 95 Tmolus 44 tragedy 78, 191, 206 Trambelus 218 transition 10, 51, 81, 85, 92, 113, 121–122, 128, 132–137, 173, 177, 188–189, 199, 204, 212–213, 230 treason episodes 149–155 treaty of Corinth 146 Triballi 8, 47–48, 50, 173 Tripolis 153 Trojan Cilicians 216–217 Trojan War 11, 173, 218, 222 Trojans 11, 97 n. 46, 183, 189, 193, 204, 210, 217 Troy 8, 165–166, 173–176, 179, 209–210, 218, 220–223, 237 Tydeus 189 Typhoeus 217 Tyre 28–34, 33 n. 46, 38, 40–42, 46, 54– 55, 65, 69, 77, 83 n. 3, 87 n. 18, 106, 150, 154, 178 n. 44 Tyrians 28, 30–31, 38, 51, 106 Uranus 75 Uxians 56–64, 77, 236–237 Valerius Apsines 184 variatio 26 n. 29 Vergil 181 n. 57 vulgate tradition 13 n. 36, 55 n. 93 wise advisor 176 n. 41

Index nominum et rerum  267

Xanthus 49 n. 85 Xenophon 103 n. 61, 127 n. 10, 169 n. 25, 180, 183, 208, 230 Xerxes I 23, 62, 64, 88, 175, 202 Zadracarta 101, 105

Zeleia 186, 222–223 Zeus 44, 134, 173, 176 n. 44, 204, 230, 232 παραγραμματισμός 191–192

Index locorum Aelian NA 13.1 VH 3.23

93 n. 38 133 n. 28

Aelius Aristides (ed. Behr) Or. 2.96 179 n. 44 32.2 181–183 33.20 181–183 38.1 178 n. 43 41.1 178 n. 43 43.1–2 178 n. 43 47.16 163 n. 4 Aeschines In Ctesiph. 160

12 n. 32

Aeschylus TrGF F198

61 n. 99

Alexander Romance (ed. Trumpf) rec. ε 3.5 12 n. 32 Anaximenes of Lampsacus (FGrH 72) F17 154 n. 63 Anonymous on Alexander (P. Oxyr. XV 1798, FGrH 148) F44, col. II 173 n. 31 Anonymous Epitome artis rhetoricae (ed. Walz) 659 191 n. 78 661 191 n. 78 Apion (FGrH 616) F1

129 n. 13

Apollodorus (pseudo–), mythographer Bibl. 3.25 221 n. 129 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110659979-009

Apsines Rh. 314.28–315

184

Aristobulus (FGrH 139) F6 218 F41 138 n. 36 F62 133 n. 28 Aristus (FGrH 143) F4 Arrian T12–14 An. Praef. 1–3 Praef. 2 Praef. 3 1.1–10 1.1.1 1.1.4–13 1.1.5 1.1.6–13 1.1.6–7 1.1.7 1.1.8–10 1.1.9 1.1.13 1.2 1.2.2 1.2.4–5 1.2.5 1.2.6 1.3.1–4.5 1.3.1–2 1.3.1 1.3.3 1.3.4–5 1.3.5 1.3.6 1.4.3 1.4.5 1.4.6–8 1.4.6

3 n. 7

99 n. 52 2 96 n. 44 1, 177 n. 42, 228 173 96 n. 44 117 24 n. 22 33 n. 46, 47 50 n. 88 204 n. 96 48 48, 66 n. 109 144 n. 43 48 110 n. 74 49 50 n. 88 96 n. 44, 204 n. 96 49 49 49 49 n. 86 117 50 n. 88, 170 n. 27 70 n. 112 24 n. 22, 49, 50 n. 89 9 15 n. 6 110 n. 74

270  Index locorum 1.5.1 1.5.3 1.5.4–5 1.5.5–6.11 1.5.6 1.5.7 1.5.8 1.5.11–6.8 1.5.11–12 1.6.3–4 1.6.3 1.6.6 1.6.7 1.6.8 1.6.9 1.6.10 1.7–9 1.7.2 1.7.3 1.7.4–5 1.7.5 1.7.7–10 1.7.7 1.7.10 1.7.11 1.8.1 1.8.3 1.8.7 1.8.8 37 1.9.1–10.1 1.9 1.9.1–8 1.9.6 1.9.7–8 1.9.9–10 1.9.10 1.10.6 1.11.1–12.5 1.11.1–2 1.11.2 1.11.4 1.11.5 1.11.7 1.11.8 1.12.1–5 1.12.1–2 1.12.1

110 n. 74 170 155 n. 65 49 110 n. 74 50–51 110 n. 74 33 n. 46 33 n. 47 50 n. 89 96 n. 44 204 n. 96 50 n. 88, 170 50 n. 89 50 n. 88 50 n. 89 24 24 n. 23 24 n. 23 24 24 n. 22 25 24 n. 22 25 24 n. 23, 25 24 168 97 66 n. 110 25 124 209 25 n. 23 24 213 n. 111 213 n. 111, 37 173 176 96 n. 44 49 n. 85 49 n. 85, 176 170, 176 176, 209 163 177 164 n. 9

1.12.2 1.12.4–5 1.12.5 1.12.8–10 1.12.8 1.12.9 1.13.1–7 1.13.3–16.7 1.13.3–5 1.13.6–7 1.13.6 1.14.1–15.5 1.14.5 1.14.6 1.14.7 1.15.3 1.15.4 1.15.6–8 1.15.6 1.15.7 1.15.8 1.16.1–3 1.16.2 1.16.3 1.16.4–7 1.16.5 1.17.1–8 1.17.1–3 1.17.3 1.17.9 1.18.1 1.18.6–20.1 1.18.6–9 1.18.6 1.18.9 1.19.2 1.19.6–7 1.19.8 1.19.9 1.19.10 1.20.1 1.20.2–23.8 1.20.2–23.6 1.20.2–23.5

208 174 5, 180, 184, 205 n. 97 186 110 n. 74, 222 27 n. 30 156 n. 68 33 n. 46 33 n. 47 175, 181, 183 49 n. 85, 184, 213 n. 111 186 50 n. 88 169 n. 24, 170 188 169 n. 24, 170 50 n. 88, 96 n. 44, 189 186 189 110 n. 74, 187 19 186 50 n. 89 96 n. 44, 102, 110 n. 74 186 156 n. 70 150 73 110 n. 74 109, 153 73 31 n. 40 156 n. 68 31 n. 40, 53 42, 53 209 50 n. 88 53 50 n. 88 50 n. 89 54 150 216 25

Index locorum  271

1.20.2 1.20.5 1.20.6 1.20.9 1.21.1–4 1.21.3–4 1.22.3 1.22.6 1.22.7 1.23.1–4 1.23.4 1.23.6 1.23.7 1.24.1–2 1.24.3–4 1.24.4 1.25 1.25.1–2 1.25.1 1.25.3–5 1.25.3 1.25.5–6 1.25.6–8 1.25.8 1.25.9–10 1.25.9 1.26.2 1.26.5 1.27–29 1.27–29.2 1.27.1–4 1.27.2 1.27.3 1.27.7 1.28.2 1.28.8 1.29.1–3 1.29.1 1.29.3–6 2.1.3ff. 2.3 2.3.1 2.3.3 2.3.6 2.3.8 2.4–7 2.4.2ff.

51–52 216 172 50 n. 88 25, 168 26 50 n. 89 50 nn. 88–89 26 26 27 27 70 n. 112 156 n. 75 54 49 n. 85, 52 31 n. 40 149 149 149 109 149–150 149 32 n. 43 149 150 117 50 n. 88, 52 42 33 n. 46 42 50 n. 88 42 n. 70, 50 n. 89 42 n. 70, 66 n. 109 33 n. 47, 43 52 42 70 n. 112 230 105 230 170 n. 27 70 n. 112 93 44 n. 74 54 217

2.4.5–6 2.4.6 2.4.7–11 2.5.4 2.5.6 2.5.7 2.5.9 2.6.3 2.6.4 2.6.5 2.6.6–7 2.7.3–9 2.7.6 2.7.8 2.7.9 2.8–9 2.8.2 2.9.3 2.10.2 2.10.3 2.10.6–7 2.10.7 2.11.5 2.11.6 2.11.8–10 2.11.8 2.11.10 2.12.1 2.12.3–8 2.12.5 2.13.2–3 2.13.2 2.13.3 2.13.4ff. 2.13.7–8 2.13.7 2.14.4–9 2.14.9 2.15.1–2 2.15.1 2.15.2–5 2.15.4–5 2.15.4 2.15.5 2.15.6–24 2.15.7

27 24 n. 22 156 n. 67 70 n. 112 24 n. 22, 54 216 70 109 164 n. 8 96 n. 44 44 n. 74, 93, 235 156 n. 69, 190 47, 100 208 96 n. 44, 157 n. 77, 169 190 96 n. 44 204 n. 96 169 n. 24, 170 66 n. 109 50 n. 88 169 n. 24, 170 94, 190, 208 144, 209–210 143–144 110 n. 74 96 n. 44, 143–144 156 nn. 70–71, 212 103, 129 93 154 n. 63 109 153 105 73 110 n. 74 93–94 94 144 n. 43 144 73 144 213 n. 111 145 28 30

272  Index locorum 2.16.1–6 2.16.6 2.16.7–8 2.16.7 2.16.8 2.17 2.17.1–4 2.18.1–24.6 2.18.1–2 2.18.1 2.18.5 2.19.1–4 2.20.1 29, 2.20.3–7 2.20.3 2.20.4–5 2.20.7–8 2.20.7 2.21.2 2.21.3 2.21.6 2.21.8 2.22.4 2.23.4–5 2.23.4 2.24.1 2.24.2–3 2.24.3 2.24.4 2.24.5 2.24.6 2.25.2 2.25.4–27.7 2.25.4–26.1 2.25.4 2.26.1 2.26.2 2.26.3 2.26.4–27.2 2.27.2

2.27.4 2.27.6 2.27.7

30 n. 37 70 n. 112 30 50 n. 88 38 28 156 n. 68 33 n. 46 33 n. 46 30, 32 n. 43 96 n. 44 50 n. 88 110 n. 74 29 50 n. 89 55 50 n. 88 50 n. 89 96 n. 44 50 n. 88 172 50 n. 88 96 n. 44 169–170 169 n. 24 29 30 38 28, 169 and ibid. n. 24, 170 106 30, 32, 96 n. 44 87 n. 19, 232 32 32 230 230 33 n. 47 33, 213 n. 111 32 n. 43 32 n. 44, 34 n. 51, 94, 164 n. 10, 193, 213 n. 111 96 n. 44 35 n. 51, 96 n. 44, 170 96 n. 44

3.1.2 3.1.3 3.1.5–2.2 3.1.5 3.2.2 3.2.3–7 3.3.1 3.3.2 3.3.3–4.5 1 3.3.3–6 3.3.4 3.3.6 3.4.3–4 3.5.1 3.6.1 3.6.3 3.6.4–7 3.6.5–6 3.6.6 3.6.7 3.7.1 3.7.3 3.7.6–15.7 3.8.4 3.8.6 3.8.7 3.9.4 3.9.5–8 3.10.1–4 3.10.1 3.10.2 3.11–12 3.11.1–2 3.11.1 3.13.4 3.13.5 3.14.3 3.15.2 3.15.3 3.15.5 3.15.7 3.16.2–3 3.16.4 3.16.5

29, 73, 94, 96 n. 44, 193 49 n. 85 156 n. 68 170 n. 27 32 n. 43 105 170 n. 27 164 n. 10, 223 n. 132 34 118 209 44 n. 74, 96 n. 44 70 n. 112 73 49 n. 85 29 149–150 151 151 151 49 n. 85, 96 n. 44, 106 117 32 n. 43 106, 110 n. 74 106 190 156 n. 68, 213 n. 110 156 n. 69, 190 212 156 n. 77 212, 213 n. 111 190 50 n. 89 50 n. 88 172 50 n. 88 50 n. 89, 94, 194, 195 n. 84, 204 n. 96, 209 50 n. 88, 168 209–210 24 n. 22 32 n. 44, 96 n. 44 117 70 n. 112 110 n. 74

Index locorum  273

3.17.1–6 3.17.1 3.17.2–5 3.17.4–5 3.17.5 3.17.6 3.18.1–10 3.18.5–7 3.18.6 3.18.7–9 3.18.10 3.18.11–12 3.18.11 3.18.12 3.19–30

3.19.1–22.6 3.19.2 3.19.5–8 3.19.5–6 3.19.5 3.20.1–2 3.20.1 3.20.2 3.20.3 3.20.4 3.21.1–3 3.21.1 3.21.3 3.21.4 3.21.6 3.21.7 3.21.9 3.21.10 3.22.1–6 3.22.1 3.22.2–30.4 3.22.2–6 3.22.2 3.22.3 3.22.4 3.22.5 3.23.1–30.5 3.23.1

56 58 24 n. 22 58 50 n. 89 56–57 33 n. 46 24 n. 22 209–210 50 n. 89 24 n. 22 111, 134 n. 31, 156 n. 68, 176 n. 38 147–148 15 10, 81–121, 122, 131, 135, 159, 227, 229, 232–233, 237 86, 92–100 56 99 90 n. 27 159 24 n. 22 97 97 n. 46 97, 111 97 24 n. 22 109 97 105 24 n. 22, 97 n. 46 97 24 n. 22 89 n. 25, 109 94–95 70 n. 112 106, 117 86 n. 15, 102, 124, 193, 201 n. 93 96 n. 44, 193 96 n. 44 94, 96 n. 44 96 n. 44 86, 100–118 112

3.23.2–4 3.23.3 3.23.4 3.23.6 3.23.7–9 3.23.7 3.24.1–3 3.24.1 3.24.2–3 3.24.2 3.24.3–5 3.24.3 3.24.4 3.25.1–2 3.25.1 3.25.2 3.25.4 3.25.5 3.25.6–7 3.25.6 3.25.7 3.25.8 3.26.1 3.26.2 3.26.4 3.27.1 3.27.3 3.27.4–5 3.27.4 3.27.5 3.28 3.28.1 3.28.4–7 3.28.4 3.28.5–7 3.28.5 3.28.6 3.28.10 3.29.1 3.29.2–6 3.29.2–4 3.29.2–3 3.29.2 3.29.5

101 n. 54 101 n. 53 101 n. 55, 109, 110 n. 74 101 n. 54 101 n. 55 105 33 n. 46, 56–57 101 n. 54 33 n. 47, 112 101 n. 57 101 n. 55 101 n. 56 106 109 101 n. 53 101 n. 54 101 n. 54 109 24 n. 22 101 n. 54 96 n. 44, 101 n. 55 101 nn. 53–54, 108 149, 151, 153, 156 n. 67, 232 152 232 164 n. 9 169 n. 24 101 n. 53, 106 101 n. 57, 232 70 n. 112 114 101 n. 55 112–113 101 n. 55 101 n. 56, 112 96 n. 44, 115 and ibid. n. 80 70 n. 112, 115–116 96 n. 44 101 n. 53 49 n. 85 112 101 n. 56 110 n. 74 101 n. 55

274  Index locorum 3.29.6–7 3.29.7 3.30.1–5 3.30.1 3.30.2–5 3.30.6–9 3.30.6 3.30.10–11 3.30.11 4.1 4.1.1–2 4.1.1 4.1.3–3.5 4.1.5 4.2.1–6 4.2.4 4.2.5 4.2.6 4.3–4 4.3.1 4.3.5 4.3.6 4.4.2–9 4.4.3–9 4.4.3 4.4.4 4.4.9 4.5.1 4.6.3 4.6.4 4.7–14 4.7.1–3 4.7.1 4.7.4 4.7.5 4.8–14 4.8.1–9.6 4.8.1 4.8.2 4.8.3–4 4.8.3 4.8.4–5 4.8.4 4.8.5–7

101 n. 53 101 n. 54 66 n. 108 101 n. 54 66 n. 108, 104 49 n. 85 117 56 170–171 64 59, 213–214 61 n. 101, 211 65 50 n. 89 65 65 66 66–67, 67 n. 110 45 24 n. 22, 65 65–66, 66 n. 108 50 n. 88 62 32 n. 43 62–63 50 n. 89, 169 nn. 24– 25 32 n. 44, 62–63 73 66 n. 110, 156 n. 66 24 n. 22 157 18 110 n. 74 112, 235 21, 40, 137–138, 213 n. 111 162 19 132, 142 133 21–22 22, 164 n. 8 22 19, 62 n. 103, 134, 232 19

4.8.6–7 4.8.6 4.8.9 4.9.1 4.9.2 4.9.3–4 4.9.3 4.9.4 4.9.5 4.9.6 4.9.7–11.9 4.9.7–9 4.9.8–9 4.9.9 4.10.1–12.7 4.10.1–12.5 4.10.1 4.10.3–4 4.11.5 4.11.9 4.12.3–5 4.12.6 4.12.7 4.13.1–14.4 4.13.1–2 4.13.5–6 4.13.5 4.14.2 4.14.4 4.15.1–5 4.15.5 4.15.7 4.16.5 4.16.7 4.17.5 4.17.7 4.18.1 4.18.4–21.10 4.18.4–20.4 4.18.5 4.18.6–7 4.18.6 4.19.2 4.19.5 4.19.6 4.20.1–3

19 21–22 19 19, 208 208 155 96 n. 44, 103 n. 64 209 209 155 164 n. 8 19 47 132, 134, 232 19 132 19 19, 132 169 n. 24 22–23, 61 n. 101, 64 133 19 135 n. 33 19 23 19 209 135–136 96 n. 44, 133, 142 73 110 n. 74 50 n. 88 50 n. 89 168–169, 169 n. 23, 201 n. 93 70 n. 112, 96 n. 44 24 n. 22 110 n. 74 22 n. 46 36 172 33 n. 47 36–37 96 n. 44 129 129, 213 n. 111 103, 129

Index locorum  275

4.21 4.21.3 4.21.7 4.22.1–2 4.22.2 4.22.8 4.23.2 4.23.3 4.23.5 4.24.3–5 4.24.5 4.24.6 4.25.7 4.26.1 4.26.3 4.26.4 4.26.5 4.27.1 4.27.3 4.27.6 4.28.1–30.4 4.28 4.28.2 4.28.4 4.29.6 4.30.2 4.30.3 4.30.4 4.30.8 4.33 5.1–3 5.1.2 5.1.4 5.1.5–6 5.1.5 5.2.1 5.2.2 5.2.3 5.2.5 5.3.4 5.4.3 5.4.4–5 5.6.5 5.7 5.8

38 39, 172 39 33 n. 47 23 n. 19 111 n. 77 49 n. 85 168 38 12 n. 35, 168–169 192 n. 80 27 n. 30 49 n. 85, 50 nn. 88– 89 50 n. 89 50 n. 89 50 n. 89 172 96 n. 44 67–68, 72, 169 nn. 23 and 25 33 n. 47 40 33 n. 46 41 170 n. 27 96 n. 44 50 nn. 88–89 96 n. 44, 170 41, 50 n. 89, 110 n. 74 70 n. 112 171 44 44 50 n. 89, 209–210 70 n. 112 213 n. 111 45 70 n. 112 169 n. 24 170 n. 27 45 49 n. 85 70 n. 112 211 49 n. 85 46

5.9.2 5.9.3 5.10.3 5.12.3 5.13.1 5.13.2 5.16.2 5.17.3 5.17.5 5.17.7 5.18.4–19.3 5.18.4–5 5.18.4 5.19.1 5.19.3 5.19.4–6 5.20.7 5.20.8–21.1 5.20.8–9 5.21.6 5.22.1–24.5 5.22.1–2 5.22.1 5.22.3 5.22.7 5.23.5 5.23.6 5.24.7 5.24.8 5.25–29 5.25.1–2 5.25.1 5.25.2 5.25.3–26.8 5.26.1 5.26.5–6 5.27.1 5.27.2 5.27.4–9 5.27.4–7 5.27.5 1 5.27.6 5.28.1–2 5.28.2–4 5.29.1–3 6.1.3 6.2–3

68, 96 n. 44 96 n. 44 96 n. 44 215 96 n. 44 170 204 n. 96 204 n. 96, 209 208, 215 204 n. 96 215 94 96 n. 44, 195 n. 85 169 n. 24, 195 n. 85 96 n. 44, 169 n. 24 124 110 n. 74 49 n. 85 118 68 68 33 n. 47 50 n. 88 24 n. 22 204 n. 96 208 50 n. 88 50 n. 89 68–70, 76, 87, 138 230 69–70 169 n. 24 62 n. 103, 199 n. 91 46 47 47 47 158 118 157–158, 160 59, 232 96 n. 44, 170 n. 27 47 38 161 211 71 n. 113

276  Index locorum 6.2.1 6.2.3 6.3.4 6.4–16 6.4.2 6.4.3 6.4.4–5.4 6.4.5 6.5–16 6.6.2 6.6.3 6.6.5 6.6.6 6.7.1–2 6.7.4–6 6.7.4 6.7.5 6.7.6 6.8.1–3 6.8.4 6.8.6 6.9–11 6.9.1–2 6.9.3–4 6.9.4 6.9.5–11.1 6.9.5

6.9.6 6.10.1–2 6.10.3 6.10.4 6.11.2–8 6.11.2 6.11.3 6.11.7 6.11.8 6.12.1–3 6.12.1 6.13.3 6.13.4–5 6.13.4 6.14–16

156 n. 67 60 50 n. 89, 70 n. 112, 209 71 71 50 n. 88 118 33 n. 47 71 n. 113 24 n. 22 50 n. 88 50 n. 88, 96 n. 44 71 71 72 204 n. 96 170 72–73, 96 n. 44, 169 n. 24 71 50 n. 88 204 n. 96 156 n. 78 195 196 197–198, 208 196 50 n. 89, 164 n. 10, 184 n. 62, 196–197, 199, 208 50 n. 89, 96 n. 44, 196–197 147 96 n. 44 96 n. 44 66 n. 110 36 n. 54, 200 50 n. 88 200 36 n. 54, 200 118 96 n. 44 70 n. 113, 96 n. 44 3, 156 n. 67 164 n. 10 72

6.14.4–5 6.14.4 6.15.4 6.15.5 6.16.1–2 6.16.2 6.17–21 6.22–26 6.22.1 6.23ff. 6.23.1–2 6.23.3 6.23.4–6 6.24.2–3 6.24.2 6.25.1–2 6.25.3 6.25.4 6.25.6 6.26.1–3 6.26.1 6.26.4–6 6.27–30 6.27.3 6.27.5 6.28.4 6.29–30 6.29.3 6.29.4–30.2 6.29.6 6.30.1–3 6.30.1 6.30.2 6.30.3 7.1–3 7.1.1 7.1.4–3.6 7.1.5–2.1 7.1.4 7.1.6 7.2.1–2 7.2.2–4 7.2.4–3.6 7.3.1–6 7.3.1 7.3.5 7.3.6

49 n. 85 49 n. 85 76 76 76 73–74, 87 71 n. 113 71 n. 113, 118 50 n. 88 156 n. 66 131 70 n. 112 131 131 3 131 209 66–67 n. 110 131 130 and ibid. n. 20 130, 142 131 71 n. 113 110 n. 74 146 156 n. 74 147 110 n. 74 147 96 n. 44 147 148 147 148 18, 73–74 170 n. 27 229 138 74, 87, 137–138 140, 154 n. 64, 214 138 138 138, 142 201 n. 93 1 n. 1 96 n. 44 3

Index locorum  277

7.4.4–5.6 7.4.5 7.4.6–8 7.4.7 7.5.4 7.6 7.6.2–3 7.8.2–3 7.8.2 7.8.3 7.9.2–3 7.9.8 7.10.3 7.11.5–7 7.12.3 7.12.6 7.13.2 7.14.1–15.1 7.14 7.14.1 7.14.2–3 7.14.2 7.14.3–4 7.14.3 7.14.4 7.14.5 7.14.6 7.14.8–10 7.14.10 7.15.1–3 7.15.2 7.15.5 7.15.6 7.16–20 7.16.2 7.16.5–17.6 7.16.5 7.16.7 7.16.8 7.17.6 7.18.1–4 7.18.1 7.18.5 7.18.6 7.19–20

156 n. 76 110 n. 74 70 n. 112 164 n. 9 96 n. 44 159–160 23 159–160 23 208 57 184 n. 62, 205 n. 97 154 n. 64 161 156 n. 67, 164 n. 9, 184 n. 62 154 n. 64 110 n. 74 156 n. 67 164 n. 9 201 n. 93 201 96 n. 44, 201 202 99 n. 49 165–166, 202 164 n. 10, 176 n. 38, 202, 208 184 n. 62, 202–203 202 140 57 58 3 n. 7 208 74 170 n. 27 31 n. 40 140 140 202 n. 94 140 141 96 n. 44 141 141 75

7.19.2 7.19.6 7.20.9 7.22 7.24 7.24.1 7.25.1–27.3 7.25.1–26.1 7.25 7.25.2 7.26 7.28.1–30.3 7.28.1 7.29.1–30.2 7.29.1 7.29.3–4 7.29.3 7.29.4 7.30 7.30.2 7.30.3 Bith. F1 F15 F22 F31 F32 F33 F34 Cyn. 1.4 3.5.2 16.7.2 21.2.2 35.1–3 36.1–3 36.2 Epict. 2.22.16 Ind. 2.1.4 2.4 3.6 6.8 7.2–8.1 9.11–12

208 75–76 3 140–141 141 140 201 n. 93 133 n. 29 134 209 139 124 96 n. 44 21 164 n. 8 112 23, 47 133 nn. 28–29, 156 n. 67, 164 n. 9 175 and ibid. n. 37 96 n. 44 178 n. 43 5, 180 220 221 221 221 221 222 163 n. 5 163 n. 5 163 n. 5 163 n. 5 178 n. 43, 210 210 210 181 115 115–116 60 60 58 72

278  Index locorum 9.12 20.2 22.6 31.9 32.12 40.6–8 Parth. F87 Peripl. M. Eux. 3.2 8.2 11.2 11.5 12.5 25.1 Tact. 11.1 31.5–6

214 204 204 234 204 57 58 211 211 178 n. 43 114 n. 79 163 n. 5 163 n. 5 204 n. 96 210

Asclepiades (FGrH 144) F1 3 n. 7 Athenaeus 43d–e 65b 271d 434b 637f

218 219 n. 123 219 n. 123 133 n. 28 219 n. 123

Bacchylides (ed. Maehler) F7 220 Callisthenes (FGrH 124) T19b 39 n. 63 F20 32 n. 43 F21 32 n. 43 F22a 32 n. 43 F23 32 n. 43 F24 32 n. 43 F25 12 n. 35, 215–216 F28 12 n. 35 F31 12 n. 35, 217 n. 117 F32 12 n. 35, 216, 217 n. 117 F33 217 F35 12 n. 35, 212

Chares of Mytilene (FGrH 125) F7 31, 55 F19a 133 n. 28 F19b 133 n. 28 Choerilus, epic poet (ed. Radici Colace) F3 61 n. 100 Curtius Rufus 3.1.14–18 3.1.16 3.2.17–18 3.4.10 3.4.11 3.6.18 3.8.20 3.8.29–30 3.11.11 3.11.18 3.12.20 3.13.12–15 4.1.29–30 4.2.2 4.2.7–15 4.2.17 4.2.24–3.1 4.3.1–11 4.4.17 4.6.29 4.8.3 4.10.18–34 4.11.1–22 4.11.10–16 5.2.11 5.5.3 5.6.17–20 6.2.15–3.18 6.2.17 6.7.1–11.40 7.3.4 7.5.39–40 7.6.11 7.8.15 7.8.19 7.8.22 7.9.9–16 7.11.1

93 n. 38 153 n. 58 39 n. 63 216 39 n. 63 39 n. 63 39 n. 63 39 n. 63 193 n. 83 154 n. 62 39 n. 63 106 n. 69 154 28 n. 31 31 n. 38 31 n. 42 30 n. 37 55 28 n. 31 12–13 n. 35 153 n. 58 129 n. 15 87 n. 18 87 n. 19 88 n. 22 24 n. 22 58 98 90 n. 27 152 n. 55 107 105 61 n. 101 61 n. 101 61 61 n. 101 62 n. 102 35 n. 52

Index locorum  279

Demades (ed. Marzi/Feraboli) F48 167

17.72 17.73.2–4 17.73.2–3 17.74.1–2 17.74.3 17.78.1 17.79–80 17.81.2 17.83.7 17.98.5 18.4.2–6 19.17.3 19.19.2ff. 33.17.3

134 n. 31 119 89 n. 25 90 n. 29 90 n. 27 91 n. 33 152 n. 55 107 90 n. 29 197 74 n. 116 58 58 198 n. 88

Dio Cassius 69.15.1

99 n. 52

Diogenes Laertius 1.101

61 n. 100

Dio Chrysostom Or. 53.1

178 n. 44

Dionysius of Halicarnassus (pseudo–) Rh. 10.10 206

Diodorus of Sicily 1.19.4 4.2 14.103.4 17 17.1.5 17.2.1–3.6 17.4.5 17.6.1–3 17.7.2 17.13.1 17.14.2 17.19.1–21.6 17.20.3–4 17.25.5–6 17.34.6–7 17.38.5–7 17.40.2 17.40.5ff. 17.46.4 17.48.4–5 17.54.1–5 17.54.4–5 17.64.1–2 17.66.1–2

211 n. 107 221 n. 129 198 n. 88 index 17 κζ–κη 142 12 n. 32 24 n. 22 24 n. 22 193 n. 83 24 n. 22 37 n. 58 25 n. 23 185 187 26 n. 28 193 n. 83 39 n. 63 30 n. 37 31 n. 38 28 n. 31 154 87 n. 18 87 n. 19 89 n. 24 88 n. 22

7.11.4 8.4.23–30 8.4.26 8.4.30 8.5.5ff. 8.13.3–4 10.1.17–18 10.6.13–15

153 n. 58 130 n. 18 13 n. 35 130 n. 19 142 109 n. 72 74 n. 116 130 n. 19

Cyrsilus of Pharsalus (FGrH 130) F1 60

Ephippus of Olynthus (FGrH 126) F2–4 133 n. 28 Ephorus (FGrH 70) F158 Euripides Andr. 1243 Ph. 8

60 n. 98

220 221 n. 129

Harpocratio, grammarian (Keaney) μ 6 (s.v. Μαργίτης) 12 n. 32 Hegesias of Magnesia (FGrH 142) F5 12 n. 35 Herodotus 3.119.6 4.1–144 4.4.2 7.35 8.47 8.94.2

181 n. 57 60 n. 98 50 n. 89 175 89 n. 26 50 n. 89

280  Index locorum 8.109.3 9.116.1

214 214

Hesiod Th. 933–937 975–978

221 n. 129 221 n. 129

Homer Il. 1.225ff. 1.366–367 2 2.267 2.690–691 2.754 2.765 2.781–783 2.814 2.824 2.856–857 2.857 3.1–8 3.16 3.31 4.281–282 4.408 4.428 4.472–473 4.543–5.1 5.48–51 5.536 6.75 6.76 6.125–126 6.208 6.396–398 6.414–416 6.429–430 6.441–446 6.450–463 7.61–62 7.75 7.260–265 7.440–441 8.75–77 8.214–215 8.256

170 n. 26 16 218 n. 117 216 211 192 217 221 222 221 221 210 170 n. 26 170 n. 26 194 210 210 189 189 169 170 n. 26 220 220 170 n. 26 170 n. 26 216 216 180–181, 184 n. 62 183 184 194 170 n. 26 171–172 213 n. 110 198 215 170 n. 26

8.337 8.343 9.349–350 9.709 11.61 11.150–153 11.217 11.251–256 11.296 12.62–63 12.94 12.210 12.225 13.6 13.27–30 13.27–28 13.145–146 13.270 13.291 13.576–600 15.1 15.344 15.617 16.385 18.79–82 18.82 18.214 19.15–17 19.60 19.366–385 20.92 20.167–173 20.191–192 20.214 20.215–216 21.35–155 21.128–133 22.97 22.112 22.225 22.296 22.304–305 22.306 22.395ff. 22.418 22.493–499 23.859f.

170 n. 26 213 n. 110 213 n. 110 170 n. 26 170 n. 26 189 170 n. 26 172 170 n. 26 213 n. 110 220 210 210 211 217–218 n. 117 218 n. 117 190–192 170 n. 26 170 n. 26 220 213 n. 110 213 n. 110 172 215 203 203 198 198 216 198 216 167 216 221 221 233 97 n. 46 197–198 197 197 199 197, 199 199 13 n. 35 214 184 210

Index locorum  281

Od. 1.1 4.581 5.125 5.469 6.164 8.488 9.293 11.243–244 11.557

191 211 221 211 191 178 n. 44 191 218 n. 117 203

Horace Od. 3.24.9–11

61 n. 99

Ister (FGrH 334) F57

219 n. 121

Joannes Laurentius Lydus De magistr. Pop. Rom. 3.53.1.ff. 99 n. 52 Justin Epit. 11.7.3–16 11.7.4 11.12.6–7 11.12.9–15 11.14.9 12.1.1–3 12.3.2–3 12.5.1–8 12.7.13 Lucian Alex. 2 Hist. Conscr. 8–9 22 Rh. Pr. 16–17 Scyth. 9

93 n. 38 153 n. 58 129 n. 15 87 n. 18 88 n. 22 90 n. 27 98 152 n. 55 153 n. 58

4 207 206–207 205 61 n. 100

Lycophron Al. 467

219 n. 121

Marsyas of Pella and Marsyas of Philippi (FGrH 135–136) F3 12 n. 32 F4 93 n. 38 Matro (ed. Olson/Sens) F1.1 191–192 F1.3 191 F1.16 191 F5.3 192 Maximus of Tyre Or. 26.2d 26.4a

179 n. 44 179 n. 44

Medius of Larissa (FGrH 129) F1 Menaechmus of Sicyon (FGrH 131) F11 219 Metz Epitome 18

35 n. 52

Nearchus (FGrH 133) F1 153 n. 58 Nicobule (FGrH 127) F1–2 133 n. 28 Onesicritus (FGrH 134) F5 60 F17a 138 n. 36 F17b 138 n. 36 F38 12 n. 32, 223 Paradoxographus Vaticanus (ed. Giannini) 47 60 n. 98 Parthenius 26

219 n. 121

282  Index locorum Pausanias 1.11.1 Philostratus Her. 751 VS 1.487 2.628

12 n. 32, 217

60 n. 98 163 n. 4 184

Photius Bibl. cod. 58: 17a24 cod. 91: 67b23 cod. 92: 72b40 cod. 93: 73b11–15 cod. 93: 73b12

1 n. 1 1 n. 1 4 5 1 n. 1

Pindar P. 11.7

221 n. 129

Plato Lg. 677b–678c Phd. 95a

58 n. 96 221 n. 129

Pliny Nat. 5.76

31 n. 38

Plutarch Alex. 2.1 5.8 7.2 8 8.2 9 14 15.8–9 16.1–19 16.2 16.8 17 18.2–4

12 n. 32, 217 12 n. 32 223 138 n. 36 12 n. 32 133 n. 28 133 n. 28 12 n. 35 185 187 187 133 n. 28 93 n. 38

21 129 n. 17 21.2–11 142 21.6 129 n. 13 23 133 n. 28 24–25 31 n. 42 24.5–14 31 24.10–14 55 24.5 31 n. 40 25.2 32 n. 43 27 138 n. 36 29.7–8 87 n. 18 29.8 87 n. 19 30 129 nn. 15–16 34.1 86 n. 16 34.2–4 89 n. 26 36.1 88 n. 22 38 134 n. 31 41 133 n. 28 41.8 151 n. 54 42–43 89 n. 25, 120 42.5 90 n. 27 47.1–3 98 47.1 99 47.7 129 n. 13, 130 n. 18 48–55 142 48–49 152 n. 55 48.1–49.2 153 n. 61 48.4–7 1 53 n. 59 63.9 197 72.4 58 76.1–77.1 133 n. 28 77.6 130 n. 18 Coni. praec. 145a 182 Reg. et imp. apophth. 180a 87 n. 19 De Alex. fort. 327d 58 n. 96 328a 58 n. 96 328c 61 n. 99 329c–d 58 n. 96 330c–e 58 n. 96 332a–c 58 n. 96, 142 n. 40 334a 60 n. 98 339a–340a 153 n. 59 Quaest. conv. 623d–e 134 n. 28

Index locorum  283

Polyaenus 4.3.29 4.3.31

35 n. 52 58

Polybius 8.4.8 8.37.7 12.22 15.33.4

198 n. 88 198 n. 88 212 198 n. 88

Polyclitus of Larissa (FGrH 128) F1 133 n. 28 F7 60 Pomponius Mela 3.36–43

61 n. 100

Ptolemy (FGrH 138) F11 12 n. 35 F18 12 n. 35, 168 Satyrus Vit. Eur. P. Oxy. IX 1176 (ed. Schorn) F6 fr. 39, cols. IX–XIII 127 n. 10 Scholia in Aristophanem Eq. 59b 191 n. 78 Ra. 428a 191 n. 78 Scholia in Euripidem Hipp. 671 93 n. 38 Scylax (pseudo–) Peripl. 104 Sophocles Aj. 514ff. Ph. 606 1337

31 n. 38

181 n. 57 220 220

Stephanus of Byzantium (ed. Billerbeck) α 489 (s.v. Ἀσσακηνοί) 1 n. 1

τ 111 (s.v. Τηλέφιος δῆμος καὶ Τηλέφου κρήνη) 219 Strabo (ed. Radt) 7.3.8, p. 301C.29–302C.7 7.3.9, p. 302C.13–303C.18 11.11.4, p. 517C.27–28 11.13.6, p. 524C.17–23 12.3.20ff., p. 549C.23ff. 13.1.27, p. 594C.26–29 13.1.59, p. 611C.10–18 13.4.6, p. 627C.10–14 14.4.1, p. 667C.19–21 15.3.9, p. 731C.5–6 16.2.23, p. 756C.35–757C.33

15 n. 6 61 n. 100 35 n. 52 57 221 n. 128 12 n. 32, 217 215 217 216 88 n. 22 31 n. 38

Suda (ed. Adler) μ 141 (s.v. Μάναιχμος) π 1619 (s.v. περὶ Πινδάρου)

219 n. 123 1 n. 1

Suetonius Aug. 9.1

127 n. 10

Themistius Or. 34.8 34.20

99 n. 52 99 n. 52

Thucydides 1.20.3 1.75.2 1.96.1 2.35.1 3.45.5 3.98.4 6.24.3 6.31.6 4.108.2

200 146 n. 45 146 n. 45 169 n. 25 170 n. 27 169 n. 25 170 n. 27 209 n. 105 146 n. 46

Tyrtaeus (ed. West) F10.1–2 169 n. 25 F12.10–20 169 n. 25 Vergil A. 3.294–297

220

284  Index locorum Xenophon Ages. 3.2–5 4 5 6.1–3 6.4–8

127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10

7.1–3 7.4–7 8.1–4 8.5 8.6–8 An. 1.3.6

127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10 127 n. 10 180–181, 182 n. 59, 184 n. 62