Textual Rivals: Self-Presentation in Herodotus’ Histories

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Introduction Professor Dewald begins her paper with the wonderful image of Herodotus wrestling with his logoi, like Menelaus struggling with Proteus. What her analysis goes on to show is the variety of guises the histōr can assume and the muliplicity of strategems he can devise…With a self so polyvalent, unstable, fragmentary, readerly, Herodotus begins to look less like Menelaus and more like Proteus. (Szegedy-Maszak 1987, 174) …many of the techniques of Herodotean narrative remain to be explained, if indeed they have not been lost with the disappearance of Herodotus' original audience…An additional (and sometimes overlooked) difficulty is that Herodotus does not have one persona in his work, and this necessarily makes the task of examining his intentions in any one area difficult and dangerous. (Marincola 2007c, 52, 56) As readers have come to realize for millennia, Herodotus is a particularly hard author to pin down. One of the challenges readers face when they approach Herodotus as an author is appreciating the varied strategies by which he presents his authorial self to readers. The most distinctive characteristic of Herodotus' authorial selfpresentation as a whole is its sheer Page 2 → conspicuousness. For example, so frequently does he interject his first-person comments into the narrative of the Histories—telling readers where he got the information he reports, and even how readers should evaluate it—that Herodotus, at times, almost becomes a character within his own text. Whatever form Herodotus' (explicit or implicit) authorial interventions take, readers of the Histories are almost always aware that Herodotus is there as a guiding force. And yet the persona that Herodotus adopts from one passage of the Histories to the next is not always the same. It is precisely the protean nature both of the Histories as a whole and of Herodotus' own authorial persona that makes Herodotus' work so hard to fully characterize and comprehend. In this book, I wrestle with Herodotus, and try to make him reveal one of his authorial guises. Scholars have usually studied Herodotus' distinctively “present” authorial persona in one of two ways. They have either taken a comprehensive approach that seeks to determine the cumulative effect and purpose of Herodotus' authorial interventions, or have taken a more narrow approach—as I do in this book—that seeks to determine the more limited effect and purpose of select types of authorial intervention on Herodotus' part. Scholars have also arrived at different conclusions as to what emphasis Herodotus' persona puts on his authorial role—whether he is to be seen as an author fully versed in contemporary methods of research and lines of thought, or as an author embarking on an utterly novel enterprise. Bound up with the latter point is the question of genre: in which genre, exactly, is Herodotus writing, or which genre is he himself creating? The specific Herodotean guise upon which my study focuses is both didactic and polemical. It is a persona that Herodotus uses to communicate to his readers the task of the author in the new genre that he is creating with the Histories. Herodotus assumes this persona when he wishes to engage in an implicit metaliterary conversation with his readers on the difficulties inherent in an inquirer's presenting the products of his research to an audience. Herodotus frames this conversation around characters within his text that engage in historiographic activities—primarily in the areas of ethnology and history—similar to his own; these characters can therefore be seen as self-referential to Herodotus. As these characters present ethnological/historical information to audiences inside the text, Herodotus guides his readers—mostly through implicit means, but at times through explicit authorial comment—to critique the relative performance of these characters as they present information to their different audiences. This specific authorial guise also contains a polemical side: Herodotus Page 3 → guides readers to contrast his own aims, methods, and achievement as an inquirer with those of these aforementioned self-referential characters. These characters become historiographic rivals—or, as I call them, “rival inquirers”—for Herodotus within the text of the Histories. Hence the title of this book, Textual Rivals. In the contrast that Herodotus asks his readers to

draw between himself and the rival inquirers, Herodotus always comes out ahead. There is always something deficient about the rival inquirers—their most common fault being a lack of truthfulness. By contrast and by implication, Herodotus himself hardly possesses this fault. Herodotus presents himself as an inquirer committed to telling his readers the truth. The encounters between rival inquirers and their respective audiences serve as a negative model for Herodotus' own historiography; the encounters often show how an inquirer should not present his research to an audience. Through the avenue of rival inquirers, then, Herodotus is able to establish a prescriptive author-audience contract with the readers of his Histories.

Herodotus' Self-Presentation A seminal year for the study of Herodotus' authorial self-presentation was 1987. That year saw the publication of a special double issue of the journal Arethusa (20, 1–2), edited by Deborah Boedeker and entitled Herodotus and the Invention of History.1 The Arethusa volume is the first in a long line of edited collections in English devoted to Herodotus that have appeared over the last twenty-five years.2 Two of the articles in the 1987 Arethusa volume represent particularly important contributions to the study of Herodotus' self-presentation—namely, Carolyn Dewald's “Narrative Surface and Authorial Voice in Herodotus' Histories,” and John Marincola's “Herodotean Narrative and the Narrator's Presence.”3 In her 1987 article, Dewald takes the comprehensive approach to Herodotus' authorial interventions. She first divides Herodotus' authorial “I” into four “postures”—“onlooker,” “investigator,” “critic” and “writer”—and then tries to put the disparate parts back together again to form one Page 4 → overarching Herodotean persona. Dewald begins and ends her article by suggesting that over and above the four postures there is a single, comprehensive Herodotean persona: Herodotus is a heroic warrior, a Menelaus struggling with the protean λόγοι (“stories /accounts”), which together form the Histories. According to Dewald, Herodotus' task is to wrest from these logoi whatever truth they contain; the four “postures” are different wrestling holds used by Herodotus “to subdue [the logoi] to his will” (167). Through his frequent first-person authorial interventions into the third-person narrative, Herodotus repeatedly draws attention to the difficulty in ascertaining the truth of individual logoi. It is the very difficulty of evaluating logoi that serves to emphasize Herodotus' heroic status. The Histories are both a reenactment of Herodotus' own struggles with logoi, and an invitation to us readers to wrestle with them on our own. Dewald returns to the subject of Herodotean self-presentation in her 2002 article, “'I Didn't Give my own Genealogy': Herodotus and the Authorial Persona.”4 In this, she takes issue herself with certain aspects of her argument from her 1987 study.5 The chief flaw of her 1987 article, says Dewald (2002, 272), is that it “takes at face value the binary division between narrator and narrated logoi that Herodotus as narrator often insists upon.” According to her newly revised view, “Herodotus engages with the text not only as a narrator and critic of the logoi of others, but also as an author, constructing a narrative of his own of a new and different kind.” Whereas Dewald pointed in her 1987 article to four “postures” that Herodotus assumes in relating his researches to us, she now posits two “registers” that Herodotus' authorial “I” occupies: the “I” of the “narrator,” who reports and arranges the logoi of others, and the “I” of the histōr, who interprets and supplements these logoi. And yet in her 2002 article, Dewald blurs the line between these two registers, continually having to admit that what she calls the “narrator,” on the one hand, and the histōr, on the other, actually “overlap to some degree” (273; cf. 279 and n.25, 283 n.33). Marincola's own 1987 study is more narrowly focused than Dewald's studies (1987, 2002): Marincola concentrates on Herodotus' statements that he has personally seen something (autopsy) or personally questioned someone (inquiry). Of the forty-four statements of this sort that appear in the Histories, thirty of them occur in book 2. The reason for this concentration Page 5 → of Herodotus' “autobiographical remarks” in book 2, argues Marincola, is the subject of that book. In writing about Persia and many other barbarian lands, as well as about the events of the Persian War, Herodotus was delving into territory that was largely untrodden by other Greek writers. But in the case of Egypt—whose land, people, and history form the subject of book 2—Herodotus was directly competing with several earlier Greek writers on the topic, including Hecataeus of Miletus.6 In book 2, Herodotus engages in polemic against these earlier historiographic rivals; by offering in this book his most extensive proofs

of personal autopsy and inquiry, Herodotus points out to readers the superior level and depth of his own research on Egypt. Thus, while in Dewald's (1987) view Herodotus constructs his peculiar authorial persona in order to distinguish himself and his work as something novel, Marincola contends that with his authorial persona, Herodotus attempts to locate himself squarely in the tradition of both previous and contemporary Greek scientific investigation. In a 2007 article, “Odysseus and the Historians”, Marincola builds upon his earlier (1987) work—in particular, regarding Herodotus' self-presentation in book 2.7 Marincola (2007c) argues that the figure of Odysseus in several of his guises—as an explorer, sufferer, hero, narrator, and liar—served as an important model for the authorial personae of Greek (and, to a lesser extent, Roman) historians. The guise of Odysseus that Marincola detects for Herodotus in book 2 is predominantly that of a liar. Herodotus' Greek readers would have understood, says Marincola, that his first-person narrative of his autopsy and inquiry in book 2 intentionally evokes Odysseus' own first-person narratives of his various travels and adventures in Homer's Odyssey. Readers would have recognized that the resulting account in book 2 of Herodotus' work was a mixture of fact and fantasy, of honest report and embroidered tale. Marincola (2007c, 61) elaborates upon this. Egypt is certainly the land of marvels in Herodotus, and it may be the case that the pronounced “autobiographical” first-person of Book II partakes of a set of conventions designed to warn or alert the reader to the material that is to follow. Equipped with such warnings, therefore, readers would have known not to believe everything they read in book 2 of the Histories; they would have Page 6 → realized, and even accepted, that Herodotus was simply lying about his own Odyssean travels in Egypt. Marincola's (2007c) Odyssean Herodotus, therefore, displays a decidedly ambivalent relationship with truth. Regarding Herodotus and truth, Dewald (2002) herself tries to strike a middle position between the view of Catherine Darbo-Peschanski (1987), on the one hand, and that of Donald Lateiner (1989), on the other. Although both Darbo-Peschanski and Lateiner investigate the same material—Herodotus' comments on the relative truthfulness of individual logoi, or of the phenomena the logoi describe—the two scholars come to diametrically opposed conclusions. For Darbo-Peschanski, Herodotus' professions of uncertainty regarding the truthfulness of certain logoi, as well as his inclusion of alternate versions of a story, serve to remind readers of the impossibility of certainty in human knowledge; Darbo-Peschanski's Herodotus is a sort of sophist, says Dewald (280–81), who eschews any claim to truth in his investigations, but grounds his work only on the level of opinion.8 For Lateiner, Dewald argues (280), Herodotus is the “quintessential historian”; those same indications of uncertainty on Herodotus' part establish him in readers' minds as a reliable and serious guide to the information he discusses.9 Dewald approves of Darbo-Peschanski's analysis to the extent that it underlines the modesty of the authorial persona Herodotus creates for himself—a persona that is “secular, provisional, and cautious in its truth claims” (Dewald 287). But Dewald finds Lateiner's analysis even more valuable: Herodotus' “alert authorial persona” acts as an “interpretive frame” (Dewald 288) with which readers may understand the interrelatedness of the logoi and the connections—causal and otherwise—between the events related by Herodotus.

Herodotus and Truth The contrasting views of Darbo-Peschanski (1987) and of Lateiner (1989) regarding Herodotus' claims toward truth bring out well the inherent difficulty of arriving at a coherent authorial self-presentation for Herodotus. Does Herodotus claim to present truth to readers (as Lateiner) or not (as Darbo-Peschanski)? I agree with Dewald (2002) that it is probably somewhere in between. Overall, I argue in this book that Herodotus does present Page 7 → himself to readers as a truth teller; I believe that Herodotus' truthfulness is a fundamental aspect of one of his main authorial guises. (Note that I do say one of Herodotus' guises.) And yet there are times in the Histories where Herodotus appears more like Marincola's (2007c) lying Odyssean figure. For example, Herodotus sometimes assures readers that he has personally seen things that it does not seem possible that he could have seen in reality—whether it be an overly large bronze Scythian krater (4.81.2–6), or the skeletons of winged serpents (2.75)—to name but two examples.10 If we do not try to explain away the difficulties, and if we take Herodotus at

his word on matters such as these, what does that mean for his self-presentation? In such cases, did Herodotus expect that his readers would know that he was spinning an Odyssean tale (as Marincola 2007c argues for Herodotus' travel tales in book 2)? Unfortunately, perhaps, it will not do simply to consider Herodotus' veracity as an exclusively historical issue and his self-presentation as an exclusively literary issue.11 If Herodotus is lying about a given detail, but he explicitly claims—or even implicitly intimates—that he is telling the truth about that detail, then Herodotus' mendacity in this case has a bearing on his self-presentation. In his analysis of Herodotus' source citations, Detlev Fehling (1989) has made the most sustained effort of any scholar to portray Herodotus as a liar. Fehling argues that the method by which Herodotus cites his sources operates under fixed rules so consistently applied that the only conclusion is that Herodotus' sources are wholly fictitious; Herodotus simply invents the material himself that he ascribes to his sources.12 Based largely on Herodotus' Page 8 → source citations, Fehling concludes that Herodotus is not writing “history” in either our or the ancient sense at all, but “pseudo-history,” a mixture of predominantly literary elements—most of them freely invented by the author—with small kernels of historical truth. Several other scholars, approaching Herodotus from different angles, have arrived at much the same conclusion as Fehling. O. Kimball Armayor (1978a; 1978b; 1985) uses the discrepancy between parts of Herodotus' account and the evidence derived from archaeology to argue that many of Herodotus' claims to have traveled to places abroad, including Egypt and the Black Sea, are untrue. Stephanie West (1985) examines the inscriptions Herodotus records in his work and finds that none of them, neither Greek nor foreign, can be accurate transcriptions of inscribed texts, but are instead the creations of Herodotus himself. François Hartog (1988) maintains that Herodotus fashions the Scythian “Other” as a mirror image of contemporary Greeks, purposefully fabricating details about Scythian culture so that these details will be exactly opposite to those in the Greek model. All these viewpoints are united in the belief that Herodotus has invented either a great deal, or the vast majority (as Fehling would have it), of the material he relates in the Histories. If such scholars are correct that Herodotus is lying about much that he reports, then we must ask whether Herodotus' mendacity is also a component of his authorial self-presentation. In other words, does Herodotus expect his readers to recognize a “lying” component in his authorial persona? We saw that Marincola (2007c) claims that Herodotus expects his readers to do exactly that: according to Marincola, in book 2, at any rate, Herodotus was lying about many things that he saw and did during his travels in Egypt, and, further, Herodotus' original Greek readers would have recognized, appreciated, and accepted that Herodotus (in book 2) was an Odysseus-like figure who was lying about his travels. Our evidence from actual ancient readers of the Histories—even if these readers are several centuries removed from Herodotus' original fifth-century audience—does not seem to support Marincola's argument. Certain ancient critics—most notably, the secondcentury CE Plutarch in his “On the Malice of Herodotus” (de Herodoti Malignitate)—do accuse Herodotus of intentionally deceiving readers in much that he relates; critics usually posit various types of “bias” as the ultimate reason why a historian like Herodotus aims to deceive readers about Page 9 → a given fact.13 But why would ancient critics have criticized Herodotus, in particular, for untruthfulness if they believed that Herodotus was more or less open to readers about the inherent fictitiousness of (at least parts of) his work? From the evidence we have, it appears that the ancients assumed that Herodotus was offering his work as a truthful account; they found fault with Herodotus precisely at those times when they felt he did not live up to his perceived promise of delivering the truth.14 Admittedly, Herodotus never makes a methodological statement, in the proem to the Histories or anywhere else, in which he proclaims his intention of reporting only the truth as he sees it.15 Herodotus' most emphatic assertion of his own relation to “truth” (ἀληθείη) comes in 7.139.16 He prefaces his potentially controversial conclusion that during the Persian War it was really the Athenians who were the “saviors of Greece” (7.139.5) with the remark: ἐνθαῦτα ἀναγκαίῃ ἐξέργομαι γνώμην ἀποδέξασθαι ἐπίφθονον μὲν πρὸς τῶν πλεόνων ἀνθρώπων, ὅμως δέ, τῇ γέ μοι φαίνεται εἶναι ἀληθές, οὐκ ἐπισχήσω. [At this point, I am forced by necessity to declare an opinion hateful to most people, but nevertheless, I will not hold back from that which seems to me to be true.] (7.139.1)

When he arrives at his statement about the Athenians (7.139.5), Herodotus again stresses the truth of his conclusion. Page 10 → νῦν δὲ Ἀθηναίους ἄν τις λέγων σωτῆρας γενέσθαι τῆς Ἑλλάδος οὐκ ἂν ἁμαρτάνοι τἀληθέος. [As it is, anyone who says that the Athenians were the saviors of Greece would not miss the truth.] (7.139.5) According to 7.139, Herodotus feels a strong obligation not only to tell his readers the truth (ἡ ἀληθείη; τὸ ἀληθές), but to assure them that that is what he is indeed doing.17 This passage (7.139) should be read in conjunction with another Herodotean passage, 7.152.3, which occurs only a few chapters later in the Histories. After detailing various versions of how and why the Argives came to medize during the Persian War (7.148–52)—and immediately before relating that some even claimed the Argives themselves had invited the Persians to invade Greece—Herodotus issues a warning. ἐγὼ δὲ ὀφείλω λέγειν τὰ λεγόμενα, πείθεσθαί γε μὲν οὐ παντάπασιν ὀφείλω, καί μοι τοῦτο τὸ ἔπος ἐχέτω ἐς πάντα λόγον. [I am obliged to say the things that are said, but I am not at all obliged to believe them. Let this dictum hold good for my entire account.] (7.152.3) It could be argued that Herodotus utters these words in order to exonerate himself for any untrue stories that appear in his work. For example, while referring to 7.152.3, John Moles (1993, 95) criticizes Herodotus for trying to have it both ways, claiming at some points in the Histories to tell what is true, and at other points to tell merely what is said. The actual implications of 7.152.3, however, are quite different. In this passage, Herodotus stresses to readers that he feels such a strong obligation to report what people have said about a given subject—in this case, the reasons for the Argives' medizing—that he must inevitably report some stories that he may personally find distasteful, or even untrue. Judging from the precise place where Herodotus locates the disclaimer in 7.152.3, the story that appears especially suspect to him is the last he records on the subject—namely, that the Argives invited the Persians to Greece. And yet since this is a reason that people have given for why the Argives medized—and since Herodotus cannot utterly disprove it—he feels obliged to report it to readers. Just as in 7.139 the “truth” compels Herodotus to make a claim “hateful” Page 11 → to many, so in 7.152.3 a truthful transcription of the claims that people have made about the Argives leads Herodotus to record a story that even he finds hateful. The picture of Herodotus' self-presentation that emerges from 7.152.3 is that, far from trying to avoid or undermine the truth, Herodotus sees his accurate recording of what people have said about a topic as an essential part of finally getting at the truth.18 To answer the aforementioned question, then, Herodotus does not expect readers to recognize that he is lying. On the contrary, Herodotus wants readers to believe that with the Histories he is trying to give them the most truthful account possible. Ancient readers understood this, and Herodotus' own statements, including 7.139.1, 5 and 7.152.3, support this reading as well. It seems that truthfulness—or, at the very least, the appearance thereof—is a fundamental element in Herodotus' self-presentation.

Herodotus and Inquiry The (ultimately untenable) suggestion of Fehling (1989) that we should consider Herodotus a practitioner of pseudo-history does, at any rate, point to the importance of genre for Herodotus' self-presentation. The genre in which Herodotus was working might not only help determine the specific modes of self-presentation he adopts, but also help readers—if they were familiar with the conventions of this genre—know how to read Herodotus as

an author. We can safely reject Fehling's suggestion about the genre of the Histories, however, because pseudohistory implies a deliberate—and illogical—perversion on Herodotus' part of a genre (history) of which Herodotus himself is usually counted the inventor; indeed, ancient critics counted Herodotus a historian, and the Histories a work of history.19 Perhaps the most famous ancient characterization of Herodotus comes from Cicero (de Legibus 1.1.5), who dubs him “the Father of History” (patrem historiae). Modern critics have tended to follow suit, thinking of Herodotus not only as a historian, but as the first Greek—if not indeed the first Western—historian. Felix Jacoby (1909), easily the most influential scholar of ancient historiography Page 12 → of the twentieth century, considered Herodotus the first practitioner of what he called Zeitgeschichte, or “contemporary history.” Jacoby divides Greek historiography into five categories, each one building on and branching out of the other in a more or less linear pattern of development: mythography or genealogy, ethnography, chronography, contemporary history, and horography or local history.20 According to Jacoby, Herodotus' work, especially in books 1–4, displays the influence both of mythography (first practiced by Hecataeus of Miletus in his Genealogies) and of ethnography (first practiced by Hecataeus in his Periodos Ges, or “Circuit of the Earth”); at the same time, especially in books 7–9, Herodotus' work pioneered the study of contemporary history.21 And just as Hecataeus' works set the stage in many ways for Herodotus' Histories, says Jacoby, so too did the Histories set the stage for the next major development in contemporary history—Thucydides' History. Scholars have now begun to question the validity of many of Jacoby's assumptions concerning the development of Greek historiography and the position (i.e., the relative chronology and influence) of many Greek historians, including Herodotus, within that development.22 Where most scholars would still agree with Jacoby, however, is that Herodotus' work, however much it built upon the achievements of his literary (e.g., Homer) and intellectual predecessors (as Marincola 1987), seems to have marked something significantly new in Greek literature (as Dewald 1987). Even so, are we to understand that Herodotus is the first historian, and the Histories the first history? Cicero's epithet “the Father of History” is aptly ambiguous.23 Herodotus could be said to have fathered the genre of history either because he himself was a historian and his work a history, or because he laid the necessary groundwork for the development of history, although his own work lay outside the boundaries of the genre. There are signs that the latter Page 13 → explanation may be closer to reality. The significant differences in terms of scope, methodology, and aims that exist between Herodotus' work and that of Thucydides—whom almost every modern scholar would deem a historian—seem to point in this direction.24 It appears anachronistic, therefore, to apply the name “history” to the genre of the Histories. Perhaps, moreover, we should not try to pigeonhole Herodotus into any such predetermined genre. Oswyn Murray (2001b, 322) argues as such. in order to understand Herodotus we must cease to regard him as a historian, and see him as a narrator, whose narrative art is related to that of his sources. Herodotus should be accepted as the creator of a new generic form which only later became identified as history. Although in many respects it may have paved the way for the development of “history,” the genre that Herodotus attempted to create with the Histories actually proved unique, and was never really reproduced by any subsequent Greek historian, Thucydides or otherwise.25 Regarding the new genre of the Histories, Boedeker (2000) shows that Herodotus himself was deeply interested in questions of genre.26 Herodotus refers, by name, to fifteen poets (most often Homer) and to one prose writer (Hecataeus). Boedeker contends that Herodotus sets the parameters of his own genre by contrasting it with the other genres he mentions. He especially contrasts his own standards of truth with those of poets and finds the latter's standards wanting.27 Concerning the river Okeanos, Herodotus claims: Ὅμηρον δὲ ἤ τινα τῶν πρότερον γενομένων ποιητέων δοκέω τοὔνομα εὑρόντα ἐς ποίησιν ἐσενείκασθαι. [I believe Homer or one of the earlier poets invented the name [Okeanos] and introduced it in his

poetry.] (2.23)

Likewise, the name of the Eridanus River is of Greek, not foreign, origin, claims Herodotus, and was “created” (ποιηθέν) by a poet (3.115.2). Herodotus Page 14 → thus singles out the high degree of truthfulness that his own genre displays as a feature that distinguishes it from preexisting genres. If we abandon the name “history” for the genre Herodotus sets out to establish with his Histories, and abandon the name “historian” for Herodotus himself, we reach an impasse: what do we call Herodotus?28 While Herodotus never applies any term to himself as author, scholars have nevertheless looked, with limited success, for an ancient term that Herodotus—or his audience—might have conceivably applied to himself.29 One such ancient term proposed by scholars is λόγιος; another is ἵστωρ. The former term has the advantage of appearing already in 1.1 (part of the prologue of the Histories) in reference to certain Persian λόγιοι (Περσέων μέν νυν οἱ λόγιοι…φασί…[“Now the logioi of Persians say…”]), who proceed to give accounts of the abductions of women in the ancient (mythic) past. The latter term has the advantage of sharing a root with ἱστορίη (“inquiry”), a word that appears in the proem (the first sentence of the Histories): “This is a display of inquiry (ἱστορίης) of Herodotus of Halicarnassus.”30 Gregory Nagy (1987; 1990, 221–34) points to the Persian logioi in the prologue as Herodotus' predecessors in the task Herodotus has set for himself as author. Nagy translates logios as a “master of speech” and argues (1990, 224) that “the logios is a master of oral traditions in prose, just as the aoidos is a master of oral traditions in poetry and song.”31 Thus, according to Nagy, Herodotus can be considered a logios because of his dependence on and management of the oral traditions preserved in the many logoi (“stories/accounts”) he reports.32 Although the word ἵστωρ never appears in Herodotus' work, the word apparently denoted in Archaic Greece a “judge” or “arbitrator” who would decide a case put to him by two disputing parties; in Greek literature, Homer's description of Achilles' shield (Iliad 18.501) provides the best known example of such a histōr.33 Robert Connor (1993, 9–10) writes: Page 15 → To be sure, [Herodotus] never calls himself—or anyone else for that matter—a ἵστωρ, but from time to time his narrative shows a remarkable similarity to the way ἵστορες functioned in early Greek society. He often shapes his narrative by presenting two conflicting accounts (λόγοι)…with the advocates of each position normally named or otherwise identified…There may then be some report of witnesses or discussion of supporting evidence. Although he may decide to allow the reader to form his or her own opinion, he usually gives his own judgment… Persuaded by the analogous role that both a ἵστωρ and Herodotus play as “judges” of competing claims, many scholars now reference Herodotus' authorial role by terming him a histōr.34 The problem with calling Herodotus either a λόγιος or a ἵστωρ, however, is ultimately the same as calling Herodotus a historian: all three terms are overly precise. We cannot use the word historian, especially, nor even logios or histōr, without evoking a host of connotations. By referring to Herodotus with one of these names, moreover, we imply that we have him figured out; we confidently assert that we know what Herodotus is doing. He is doing what historians do, or what logioi or histōres do—as if we knew exactly what the latter two groups did in the first place.35 Getting a firm grip on Herodotus' challenging work is unfortunately not so easy. While each of these terms (historian, logios, histōr) in their own individual ways seem to apply to certain aspects of Herodotus' authorial task, none of the terms comes close to a perfect fit. The unique genre that Herodotus created makes him unique, and so we need a term that tries to capture this uniqueness—a term that is, moreover, rather vague and open-ended in order to match our still incomplete understanding of exactly what Herodotus is trying to accomplish with his work. Page 16 → Perhaps the best we can do is return to the word ἱστορίη (“inquiry”) from the proem.36 We could refer to Herodotus' entire work as his “Inquiry,” but since the traditional designation Histories nicely constitutes a transliteration of the genitive ἱστορίης in the proem, we are equally well served by sticking with the latter name. There are distinct advantages, however,

to calling Herodotus himself an inquirer, rather than calling him a historian, λόγιος, or ἵστωρ. The English word “inquirer” is seldom used today, and so has little connotational baggage. It is also sufficiently vague to convey the multifaceted nature of Herodotus' peculiar brand of historiography. In this book, therefore, I call Herodotus an inquirer, and I label his authorial task as a whole one of inquiry.37

Herodotus and Rival Inquirers As the founder of the new genre of inquiry, Herodotus was faced with the problem of answering both for himself and for his readers what an inquirer actually does. Herodotus could have included in his work an explicit methodological statement (such as Thucydides 1.21–22) in which he sets out his historiographic principles. Either this never occurred to him, or he consciously chose not to include such a statement. The scattered comments that Herodotus does make concerning how he sees his authorial task—such as in 7.139.1, 5 and 7.152.3—are revealing, however incomplete a picture of Herodotus the inquirer they give us. To fill in the rest of the picture, Herodotus sometimes chooses less direct means of letting readers know both what an inquirer should do, and what he himself is doing as an inquirer. Herodotus displays several methods of defining his authorial role and of establishing his authority as an inquirer. We have already alluded to one of the strategies that Herodotus uses to underline his authority: polemic.38 For example, in his criticism of the poetic “invention” of the names of the rivers Okeanos (2.23) and Eridanus (3.115.2), Herodotus engages in Page 17 → polemic with poetic rivals whose standards of truth Herodotus appears to question. Rosalind Thomas (1993, 1997, 2000, 2006) has shown, moreover, that Herodotus' highly contentious authorial persona—a persona that often navigates among opposing viewpoints—reflects the contentious personae of contemporary medical writers; such writers, says Thomas, share with Herodotus much of the same technical language of argument and proof, as well as a marked interest in persuading their respective audiences as to their knowledge and expertise. Indeed, although he focuses rather on the stylistic and organizational techniques Herodotus employs to guide his audience through the narrative, Roger Brock (2003, 9) notes that the expressions and constructions used by Herodotus are “continuous and overt, reassuring us that there is someone in charge [Herodotus] who knows what he is doing.”39 Some scholars have even argued that Herodotus depicts his authoritative voice as narrator as somewhat analogous to the authoritative voice of the—divinely omnisicient and always correct—Delphic oracle.40 With special regard to Herodotus' self-presentation, scholars have also noted that certain characters in the Histories engage in historiographic activities that resemble Herodotus' own. Rosaria Munson (2001b), for instance, points to several characters that she sees as being “self-referential” to Herodotus; she explains (255n.78) that she calls “a character ‘self-referential' when it emerges as a double of the narrator Herodotus.” One such character is the musician Arion (1.23–24), who, Munson notes (255), “is, like Herodotus, a skilled performer who must eventually confront hostile audiences.”41 Another such character is the Halicarnassian queen, Artemisia. Munson argues (256–57) that Herodotus links Artemisia with himself when he first introduces her in the Histories.42 After he says that he will not mention the other taxiarchs in the Persian army “because [he] is not forced by necessity” (ὡς οὐκ ἀναγκαζόμενος) to do so, he singles out for comment Artemisia, who joined Xerxes' expedition against Greece, says Herodotus, “although there was no necessity for her” (οὐδεμιῆς οἱ ἐούσης ἀναγκαίης) to do so (7.99.1). Just as Queen Artemisia is free to make her own choices, and freely chooses to join the Persian expedition, so the Halicarnassian inquirer Herodotus is free to choose which material to include in his work, and which to omit. Page 18 → The most extensive study of “self-referential” figures in Herodotus' work has been done by Matthew Christ (1994), who notes the close resemblance that exists between Herodotean kings and Herodotus himself as an inquirer. Christ posits four ways that the characteristics and investigative activities of kings overlap with that of Herodotus: curiosity, measurement, exploration, and conducting experiments. What distinguishes kings from Herodotus is the primary aim behind their researches—self-aggrandizement—and the primary method they use to acquire the information they seek—coercion. Xerxes, for instance, finds out how many soldiers he has brought

with him in his invasion of Greece by forcing 10,000 at a time to pack into an enclosure specially built for that purpose (7.59.3–60.3); having arrived at a sum total of 1.7 million men in this way, Xerxes later boasts (7.101.2, 7.103.3) that no army—especially not the paltry armies of the Greeks—will be able to resist so vast a force.43 Darius sends out men to explore the Indus River, but when his men bring back the information they have gathered, he then proceeds to conquer the Indians (4.44.1–3). Cambyses ironically proves his insanity by the test he devises to prove to his subjects his sanity: managing to shoot an arrow straight into the heart of his adviser Prexaspes' son (3.35.1–4). After reviewing a collection of the investigations that are conducted by Herodotean kings, Christ concludes (199–200) with the following words. [Herodotus’] repeated and involved critique of inquiring kings indicates that any earlier investigator—measurer, explorer, or experimenter—is in some sense a potential rival for him…If Herodotus is conscious that he is in some sense following in the footsteps of inquiring kings, however, his critique of their techniques and motives suggests that his inquiry is intellectually and ethically superior to theirs. The historian's superiority arises from the fact that he observes rather than spies; asks questions rather than makes demands; draws inferences cautiously and self-consciously, and not simply to confirm his own assumptions; and seeks knowledge as an end in itself rather than as a means to power or self-glorification…If, therefore, we perceive the narrator of the Histories as a humane, tolerant, and intelligent inquirer, we must appreciate that his treatment of kingly investigation helps shape and reinforce that persona. Thus, through his study of inquiring kings in the Histories, Christ points to an important, if indirect, way that Herodotus reveals to readers what an inquirer Page 19 → should do: Herodotus implicitly contrasts his own aims and methods with those of figures within his text. The activities of Christ's Herodotean kings, however, ultimately reflect only one side of Herodotus' persona as inquirer—that of researcher. As the kings measure, explore, conduct experiments, and even question oral informants, they mirror the activities that Herodotus himself has undertaken to gather the information that fills the pages of the Histories. But the kings in the specific episodes to which Christ refers never take the next step; they never take the information that they have at their disposal and try to persuade an audience to believe that information. The complementary side of Herodotus' persona as a researcher is his persona as a persuasive presenter of information. Under “presenter” is understood all the roles that Herodotus assumes in order to convey information to readers—from narrator, to critic, to actor (especially in his account of his travels in book 2). In order to find figures in the Histories, then, who try to persuade audiences to believe the information that the figures present to their respective audiences (much as Herodotus does to his readers), we shall have to look outside of the episodes that Christ discusses. Moles (2007) has adduced one such figure, who both mirrors Herodotus himself and tries to persuade an audience to believe the information he presents it: the Corinthian Socles (5.92). When the Lacedaemonians have summoned their allies to discuss restoring Hippias as tyrant of Athens, Socles gives a speech arguing against this proposition. In order to illustrate the injustice and utter undesirability of tyranny, Socles—in direct discourse—tells the audience of Lacedaemonian allies stories from his own city-state's past; namely, the cruel and bloody reigns of the Corinthian tyrants Cypselus (5.92β-ε) and his son Periander (5.92ζ-η). The Lacedaemonian allies are persuaded by Socles' words, and demand that the Lacedaemonians give up their plan of restoring Hippias (5.93). Regarding the Socles episode (5.92), Moles writes (255): This episode seems to have a certain “meta”-quality: to invite reflections about the status and purpose of the Histories itself. There is a speaker and an internal audience or audiences. Socles is a sort of historian of Corinthian history à la Herodotus, even supplying material about Corinth which Herodotus in propria persona does not. Moles (esp. 267 and n.104) even suggests that Socles is not an historical figure at all, but a figure invented by Herodotus as a mouthpiece for Herodotus' own anti-tyrannical views. He argues that “Socles isn't really Socles: he's Page 20 → Herodotus” (265) and that “'Socles' is nothing more than the nom de plume of [Herodotus]” (267).

Within his text, Herodotus thus has Socles—a character that he may have even invented for this precise purpose—give a persuasive historical account of past events to an audience. The role that Socles plays in 5.92 is analogous to the role that Herodotus himself often plays in the Histories: presenting historical accounts of past events to readers. And just as Socles in 5.92 is successful in persuading his audience—the Lacedaemonian allies—to believe the historical tales he relates about the tyranny of the Cypselids, Herodotus presents himself to readers as entirely successful in persuading his own audience (the readers themselves) to believe the multitudinous historical tales he relates as author/narrator of the Histories. As Moles argues, Herodotus does little to distinguish Socles from himself as author; when Socles gives his account of Corinthian history, he is speaking on behalf of Herodotus. An inquirer-like figure partially similar to Socles is the Spartan king Leotychides (6.86), who himself gives an account of past events to an audience. In direct discourse, Leotychides tries to persuade an audience of Athenians to return certain Aeginetan hostages by telling the Athenians about the bad things that once befell a Spartan named Glaucus when he contemplated refusing to return money that had been entrusted to him. Munson (2001b, 4.n.10) maintains that “the internal model for reading the Histories is provided, e.g., by the useful stories of Solon (1.30.4–5), Socles (5.92), and Leotychides (6.86α-δ).”44 David Johnson (2001, 2) argues, moreover, that the Socles and Leotychides episodes “are also potentially of great value for our understanding of Herodotus' method, for in each case a speaker presents us with a narrative similar to Herodotus' own narrative.” What separates Leotychides (6.86) from Socles (5.92), however, is that Leotychides is unsuccessful in persuading the Athenians to hand over the hostages: Leotychides' own historical tale does not prove persuasive with his respective audience. Leotychides, then, can be distinguished from Herodotus—in a way that the persuasive Socles cannot—as an unpersuasive presenter of historical information. In this book, I examine within the Histories specific inquirer-like figures that are generally more like Leotychides than Socles. That is to say, most of the Herodotean characters I discuss are somehow unsuccessful or unpersuasive in presenting information—whether historical or ethnologic—to Page 21 → an audience. As such, these figures contrast with Herodotus himself, who, again, presents himself as being completely successful at persuading his readers to believe the information—including historical accounts and ethnographic details—he presents them as an inquirer. These figures can be considered rivals of a sort to Herodotus, but they are internal rivals who exist within the text of Herodotus' work. I call these figures “rival inquirers” not because any of the figures actually engage in inquiry (ἱστορίη) in a formal Herodotean manner; rather, I argue that these figures reflect Herodotus' authorial role as an inquirer in certain limited, but still suggestive, ways. Thus, with this book, I am not trying to arrive at one, overarching authorial persona for Herodotus that will encompass all the varied—and perhaps even at times contradictory—roles in which Herodotus casts himself as an author. I am looking specifically at one important authorial pose: Herodotus as a truthful purveyor of historical and ethnographic information. Indeed, it is often due to their own troubled relationship with truth that “rival inquirers” suffer in comparison with Herodotus. At times, Herodotus may go so far as making an explicit authorial comment in order to call readers' attention to the questionable reliability of one of these rival inquirers. In such an instance, Herodotus also assures readers—whether explicitly or implicitly—that he is able to give them more accurate information than can a given rival. There may even be deceptive intentions behind a rival inquirer's presenting his historical/ethnologic account to an audience in the first place. Again, Herodotus contrasts his own goal of presenting truthful accounts to readers with the deceptive aims of select rival inquirers.

Outline of Chapters The Athenian Solon in his encounter with the Lydian king Croesus (1.29–33) is the subject of chapter 1. We saw earlier that Munson (2001b, 4.n.10) associates the story that Solon tells in 1.30.3–5 (the Tellus logos) both with the story told by Socles (5.92) and with the story told by Leotychides (6.86). Indeed, all three stories involve a character giving an historical account to an audience. I argue that Solon actually gives two such historical accounts, both the Tellus logos (1.30.3–5) and the Cleobis and Biton logos (1.31), to his particular audience, Croesus. Herodotus even characterizes what Solon is going to tell Croesus in their conversation as “the truth” (1.30.3). Even so, Solon is unpersuasive in 1.29–33 at persuading Croesus to believe the accounts he gives. Only when Croesus is at the point of death on the pyre Page 22 → (1.86) does he accept any part of what Solon had said

in the earlier conversation. Herodotus thus draws an implicit contrast between himself and the largely unpersuasive Solon. Chapter 2 focuses on conversations between the exiled Spartan king Demaratus and the Persian king Xerxes (7.101–105, 7.209, 7.234–37). In each conversation, the content of the advice Demaratus gives Xerxes is ethnologic, dealing with Greek customs. Like Solon, however, Demaratus does not succeed in persuading his particular audience (Xerxes) to believe the information that he presents him. Demaratus becomes so disillusioned with his repeated failures to convince Xerxes that he admits he finds it a “struggle” (7.209.2) to tell Xerxes the truth. Finally, in 8.65, Demaratus has become so frustrated that he dissuades the Athenian exile Dicaeus from presenting yet more Greek ethnologic information to Xerxes. With the figure of Demaratus, Herodotus is able to explore the challenge an inquirer faces in presenting seemingly incredible ethnographic details to an audience. Unlike Demaratus, however, Herodotus never gives up practicing ethnography. The Milesian tyrant Aristagoras is the rival inquirer in chapter 3. When Aristagoras describes his bronze map of the world to the Spartan king Cleomenes (5.49–51), he gives Cleomenes an ethnologic and geographic account of Asia from Ionia to Susa. In the process, Aristagoras mirrors Herodotus' own ethnographic/geographic language and procedures. Herodotus states that Aristagoras is essentially “correct” about what he tells Cleomenes, but then he informs readers that he can still give them “more accurate” information than Aristagoras concerning the Persian Royal Road (5.54.1). As Herodotus gives his own account of the Royal Road (5.52–54), Aristagoras' verbal description of his map serves as a virtual illustration of Herodotus' account. In addition, Herodotus underlines that Aristagoras is trying to deceive Cleomenes with regard to the actual length of the journey to Susa: Herodotus says that Aristagoras was “deceiving Cleomenes well” until he made the mistake of “telling the truth” (5.50.2) about how long the journey would take. In chapter 4, the Athenians, who engage in a debate with Tegeans over command of a wing of the Greek army before the Battle of Plataea (9.26–28.1), are the rival inquirers in question. These Athenians give a speech (9.27) in which they claim that the Athenians “alone of Greeks” had defeated the Persians at the Battle of Marathon (9.27.5). Like Solon, the Athenian speakers at Plataea give an account of an historical event. The Athenian speakers' account of Marathon, however, directly conflicts with Herodotus' own Page 23 → narrative of the battle (6.102–17), in which Herodotus stresses the aid that the Plataeans had given the Athenians against the Persians. Reflected in the Athenian speakers' claim about Marathon is the tradition of Attic funeral orations (epitaphioi), which concentrated on the glorious achievements of Athens. Herodotus' account of Marathon can be seen as a corrective to the distorted epitaphic version of the battle (as seen in 9.27.5), which omitted the Plataeans' role. Herodotus associates the Athenian speakers' words at Plataea (9.27), moreover, with the Persian logioi and Phoenicians in the prologue of the Histories (1.1–5) in order to emphasize the self-interested nature of the stories—including that of Marathon—that these Athenian speakers tell. Chapter 5 takes as its subject the Persian king Xerxes and the deceptive spectacle he engineers after the Battle of Thermopylae (8.24–25). On the Thermopylean battlefield, Xerxes hides most of the large numbers of Persians killed in the fighting, but leaves out all the Greek corpses. To his fleet, Xerxes sends a herald to invite the sailors to come view the battlefield. In the reconstruction of the battle that Xerxes means his sailors to imagine as a result of their tour of the battlefield, far fewer Persians than Greeks died in the battle. Xerxes' sailors are not fooled at all by the arrangement of the corpses, however; Herodotus even terms the spectacle “laughable” (8.25.2). Herodotus' criticism of Xerxes' spectacle is so harsh here because Xerxes' account threatens to undermine Herodotus' own account of the Battle of Thermopylae (7.175–77, 198–233), in which Herodotus emphasizes how few Greeks and how many Persians died. Accordingly, Herodotus engages in polemic against his rival inquirer Xerxes by ridiculing the account of Thermopylae implied by Xerxes' spectacle. 1. Boedeker 1987b. 2. Luraghi 2001c; Bakker, de Jong, and van Wees 2002; Derow and Parker 2003; Karageorghis and Taifacos 2004; Dewald and Marincola 2006; Irwin and Greenwood 2007b; CW 102, no. 4 (2009), with a “Special Section on Herodotus”; Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012b; Foster and Lateiner 2012. There is

much relevant to Herodotus also in Marincola 2007a and Pigoń 2008. 3. Dewald 1987; Marincola 1987. 4. Dewald 2002. 5. Dewald 2002, 272 attributes the change in her view of Herodotus' authorial “I” from 1987 to 2002, in part, to the developments in the study of narratology over that period. For a narratological reading of the opening chapters of book 1 of the Histories, see Dewald 1999. 6. As Darbo-Peschanski 1987, 112. 7. Marincola 2007c. 8. See Darbo-Peschanski 1987, esp. 127–89. 9. See Lateiner 1989, esp. 59–90. 10. Armayor 1978b, 49–57 (cf. Fehling 1989, 223; contra Pritchett 1993, 136–38) argues that the bronze krater that Herodotus implies that he saw (ἐς ὄψιν, 4.81.2) at Exampaeus, given the dimensions that Herodotus gives for the krater and given what we know of ancient metallurgy, could not have been made; see further Asheri 2007a, 112; Corcella 2007, 640–41. Fehling 1989, 24–27 (contra Pritchett 1993, 27–29; cf. Lloyd 1976, 326–27; 2007, 290) questions Herodotus' report that at Buto he “saw” (εἶδον) a large heap of bones belonging to “winged serpents” (πτερωτῶν ὀφίων) (2.75.1). 11. As Munson 1991, 43n.1 (cf. Montiglio 2005, 141n.61): “The question of the 'fundamental veracity' of the contract that Herodotus establishes with his readers…is of historical rather than literary significance and need not be discussed here.” Contra Marincola 2007c, 52: “[I]t is quite possible to speak of Herodotus' narrative persona without determining the factual accuracy of the experience vouched for. This presents only a partial picture, however, since the problems of this persona are intimately bound up with the content of the reports and the personal experience that underlies this report.” 12. For more on Fehling's (1989) arguments, see chapter 1, 34–35. Regarding the rules that Fehling identifies for Herodotus' source citations, Marincola 2001, 34; 2007c, 52n.146 (cf. Dewald and Marincola 1987, 26–35) urges scholars to give these rules careful consideration, even if they reject Fehling's exact interpretation of the rules and of Herodotus as a whole. Pritchett 1993 argues forcefully against Fehling and like-minded scholars, referring to such scholars collectively as the “Liar School.” On Pritchett's work, however, see Marincola 2001, 34n.68; 2007c, 53n.147, who levels damaging criticism at Pritchett's overall approach. For more successful critiques of Fehling's source-citation theory, see Fowler 1996, 80–86; Shrimpton and Gillis 1997; Luraghi 2001b; Hornblower 2002. 13. In the de Herodoti Malignitate, Plutarch posits the maliciousness of Herodotus' own personal character (κακοηθεία) as the reason for his untruthfulness. On this work, see Bowen 1992; Marincola 1994; Baragwanath 2008, index s.v. Plutarch. On ancient views of bias in historiography, see Luce 1989; Marincola 1997, 158–74. 14. On Herodotus' reputation in antiquity as both the “Father of History” and the “Father of Lies,” see Momigliano 1958; Evans 1968. 15. Cf. the first sentence of Hecataeus' Genealogies (FGrHist 1 F 1), in which he explicitly contrasts the truthfulness of his own work with the “laughable” stories told by other Greeks: “Hecataeus of Miletus speaks thus: I write the following things as they seem to me to be true. For the stories of Greeks are many and, as they appear to me, laughable” (Ἑκαταῖος Μιλήσιος ὧδε μυθεῖται· τάδε γράφω, ὥς μοι δοκεῖ ἀληθέα εἶναι· οἱ γὰρ Ἑλλήνων λόγοι πολλοί τε καὶ γελοῖοι, ὡς ἐμοὶ φαίνονται, εἰσίν.). On this passage, see Bertelli 2001, 80–84. 16. Other than 7.139, when Herodotus himself, in his own voice as narrator, uses a word containing the ἀληθ-(“true”) root, he comments not so much on his own truthfulness as on the relative truthfulness or certitude of a given source or detail: ἀληθείη (“truth”): 2.106.5, 4.195.4; ἀληθής (“true”): 1.14.2, 5.32, 5.88.1, 6.82.1, 7.233.1, 8.8.2, 8.8.3, 8.77.1; ἀληθέως (“truly”): 2.56.1, 2.156.2, 3.23.3, 4.18.3, 4.187.3, 4.195.2, 6.123.2. On Herodotus' views on truth, see Marincola 2007b, 15–17; Baragwanath 2008, 19. 17. On the moral choice involved in Herodotus’ professed compulsion to tell the truth in 7.139, see Munson 2001a, 48–49; 2001b, 258–59. 18. Cf. 2.123.1, 3.9.2; and see Rösler 2002, 90–91; Luraghi 2006, 79, 85. 19. In Poetics 9.1451a–b, Aristotle—the first Greek writer to use the term “historian” (see Hornblower 1994, 9–12)—contrasts the “historian” (ὁ ἱστορικός) Herodotus with a poet (ὁ ποιητής); Aristotle considers Herodotus' work a “history” (ἱστορία) because, unlike a work of poetry, it deals with “things that [actually]

happened” (τὰ γενόμενα). Cf. Dionysius of Halicarnassus (ad Pompeium 3), who discusses the stylistic and literary merits of a select group of “writers of history” (ἱστοριογράφους, 3.1), prominent among whom is Herodotus. 20. In addition to giving an account of the historical development of Greek historiography, Jacoby 1909 explains the organizational principles behind his 1923–58 collection of fragmentary Greek historical writers (Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker = FGrHist). On the influence that Jacoby 1909, as well as the arrangement of FGrHist, has had on the study of Greek (and even Roman) historiography, see Marincola 1999. 21. On Hecataeus, see further chapter 3, 109–10. 22. See Fowler 1996; Schepens 1997; Marincola 1999. 23. Cicero's epithet (patrem historiae) is even more ambiguous when viewed in the immediate context in which it occurs. In the dialogue, Cicero explains to his brother Quintus that history differs from poetry: “…since in the former all things are related for the truth, in the latter most things for pleasure; although there are countless tales both in the work of Herodotus, the Father of History, and in the work of Theopompus” (…cum in illa ad veritatem…cuncta referantur, in hoc ad delectationem pleraque; quamquam et apud Herodotem patrem historiae et apud Theopompum sunt innumerabiles fabulae, de Legibus 1.1.5). That Herodotus' work contains countless fabulae (“[fictional?] tales”) hardly seems a positive endorsement on Cicero's part. 24. On Thucydides' knowledge of and use of Herodotus' Histories, see Hornblower 1996, 122–37, cf. 19–38; 1994, 13–33; Węcowski 2008; Foster and Lateiner 2012. 25. Cf. Lateiner 1989, 214, who portrays Herodotus as an “isolated” figure, whose historiographic model Thucydides, a man of a different age in the rapidly changing fifth century, largely rejected. 26. On the genre of Herodotus' Histories, see further Luraghi 2006, 85–88. 27. On Herodotus' view of poets and poetry, see Marincola 2006. 28. Hornblower 1994, 7 asks a similar question about Thucydides, who, he observes, never uses the term “history” (ἱστορία) (or the as yet-uncoined term “historian” [ἱστορικός]) in his work. 29. Other than the “I” of the narrator, the only time that Herodotus refers to himself specifically is in the proem (the first sentence of the Histories): he identifies himself as “Herodotus of Halicarnassus” (Ἡροδότου Ἁλικαρνησσέος). In the proem, I accept the manuscript reading Ἁλικαρνησσέος, instead of the (apparent) emendation Θουρίου (“of Thurii”); for discussion, see Asheri 2007a, 72. 30. For more on the proem and prologue of the Histories, see chapter 4, 179–86. 31. The logios upon whom Nagy 1990 focuses is Herodotus, while the aoidos is Pindar. 32. On oral tradition in Herodotus, see Gould 1989, 19–41; Evans 1991, 89–146; Luraghi 2001a, 2001b, 2009; Murray 2001a, 2001b. 33. On the histōr in Iliad 18.501, see Wolff 1946, esp. 34–49; Edwards 1991, 216–17; Connor 1993, 5–6. On histōres in general, see Connor; cf. Evans 1990, 95. 34. As Dewald 2002—who divides Herodotus' authorial self into “narrator” and “histōr”—does. See also Dewald 1987, 153 and n.18; Munson 2001b, esp. 7–8 and n.21. Chamberlain 2001, 16n.34 explains: “I use the term histor as a convenient alternative to “historian”—not because I believe that Herodotus would literally have so designated himself, but because it helps to draw our attention away from our own preconceptions with what it means to be a historian….” 35. Evans 1990, 95 notes the unacceptability of calling Herodotus a histōr. On the term logios, see in general Evans 1990, 95–96; 1991, esp. 95–99; Luraghi 2001b, 156–59; 2009; Fowler 2006, 44n.39. Luraghi 2009, 456 argues (contra Nagy 1987, 1990) that “it would be wrong to say that [Herodotus] intended to depict himself as a λόγιος…The authority [Herodotus] claims for himself is based on ἱστορίη, a more comprehensive and complex practice that puts him on a different and higher level than any group of λόγιοι.” Regarding an actual definition for logios, Luraghi is understandably—given our limited evidence—provisional: he claims (454) that logioi were “authoritative non-specialists” renowned for their “knowledge and wisdom” about the past. 36. On the meaning of the word historiē, see Bakker 2002, 13–19; Fowler 2006, 29–33; Darbo-Peschanski 2007, 29; Schepens 2007, esp. 40–41. 37. With the word “inquirer,” I refer not only to Herodotus' whole authorial self, combining his roles as narrator and as critic of the material in his work, but also to the entire role he assumes for himself outside of

his text—that is, as a gatherer of information, as an investigator and a traveler, and as an oral questioner of informants. Cf. Darbo-Peschanski 1987, who consistently refers to Herodotus as an “inquirer” (enquêteur). 38. On the competitiveness and polemical nature of Herodotus' authorial persona, especially with regard to his intellectual predecessors and contemporaries, see Marincola 1997, 225–27; Thomas 2000, 213–48; 2006, 72–73. Lateiner 1989, 104–8 compiles a list of polemical passages in the Histories. 39. Cf. de Jong 1999, 2004. 40. See Kindt 2006; Purves 2010, 150–58. 41. Cf. Demont 2009; Friedman 2006, esp. 167–69. Gray 2001, esp. 15–16 (cf. Munson 2001b, 255; Baragwanath 2008, 16 and n.43) argues that in his dealings with Arion in 1.23–24 the Corinthian tyrant Periander himself emerges as an analogue to Herodotus as an inquirer. 42. On Artemisia's role in the Histories, see further Munson 1988. 43. See chapter 2, 55–75 for further discussion of 7.101–105 (Xerxes' dialogue with Demaratus). 44. Moles 2007, 265n.48 also associates Solon with Socles as an analogue to Herodotus.

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CHAPTER 1 Solon “using the truth” No character in the Histories has been more often associated by scholars with Herodotus’ authorial persona than Solon, specifically in Solon's encounter with the Lydian king Croesus (1.29–33).1 Scholars have argued that just as the Athenian Solon arrives at Croesus’ court renowned for his wide travels no less than for his wisdom, so Herodotus presents himself as an inquirer who has seen and learned much as a result of his own wide travels.2 Solon's role in the Histories has also frequently been viewed through the lens of the “wise adviser” motif. Solon is typical of many Herodotean wise advisers in that his advice is both ignored by an interlocutor—often a king—and shown to be sound by subsequent events, but he is the rare wise adviser who has been studied by scholars almost as much as his intellectually blind (and so doomed) interlocutor. It is the second half of Solon's response to Croesus (1.32), moreover, that has received the most scholarly attention; here, Solon offers such maxims as “a human being is all chance” (1.32.4) and “one must consider the end of every matter [to see] how it will Page 25 → turn out” (1.32.9). Scholars have often seen this part of Solon's advice as programmatic for Herodotus’ work as a whole.3 By contrast, the exact nature of the first half of Solon's response to Croesus (1.30.3–31) has been largely misunderstood by scholars. In response to Croesus’ question whether during his travels Solon has seen anyone who is the most “prosperous” (ὄλβιος) of all (1.30.2), Solon gives two stories—one about the Athenian Tellus (1.30.3–5), to whom Solon awards first prize in “prosperousness”; the other about the Argive brothers Cleobis and Biton (1.31), to whom Solon awards second prize. While there is some generalizing, moralistic content to Solon's words in 1.30.3–31 (such as “it is better for a human being to be dead than to be living,” 1.31.3), just as there is in 1.32, the overall content of 1.30.3–31 is strikingly different: the content in both stories is historical. In each of the two stories, Solon gives an account of past events, whether those events surround a specific battle the Athenians once fought against their neighbors (in the case of Tellus), or a specific festival the Argives once held in honor of the goddess Hera (in the case of Cleobis and Biton). While presenting historical information to the foreigner Croesus, Solon mirrors Herodotus’ own authorial activities, especially when the latter is presenting to his readers accounts of past events. Through the figure of Solon, Herodotus is able to explore the challenge an inquirer faces in presenting historical accounts to an audience. For his part, Croesus completely misses the point of Solon's historiographical stories. Croesus fully expects that Solon will pick him as the most prosperous man he has seen (1.30.3), and after this award goes to Tellus, Croesus thinks that he will surely win second place at worst (1.31.1). When neither happens, Croesus is exasperated, and he finally concludes that Solon is both of “no account” and “very stupid” (1.33). Herodotus himself does not share Croesus’ negative appraisal of Solon's words. On the contrary, Herodotus labels Solon's response to Croesus as the “truth.” Although Croesus thinks that Solon will declare that Croesus himself is the most olbios, Herodotus says that Solon does not “flatter” Croesus, but “using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος) selects Tellus instead (1.30.3). What Solon has to say about Tellus and about Cleobis and Biton is an historical truth. From a narratological point of view, moreover, each of these two stories represents both an external analepsis (the stories refer to past Page 26 → events that took place outside the time limits of the conversation between Solon and Croesus in 1.29–33) and an actorial analepsis (each analepsis is narrated by a character [Solon] and not by the Herodotean narrator). In addition, since neither story is narrated elsewhere in Herodotus’ work, these two stories can also be considered completing analepses.4 Thus, by telling the stories of Tellus (1.30.3–5) and of Cleobis and Biton (1.31) to readers, Solon, for a time, steps into the role of the Herodotean narrator. Not only does Herodotus have a character (Solon) give analepses involving historical events, but also Herodotus has already assured readers in 1.30.3 that the (historical) information Solon is going to report in the analepses is the “truth.” In his conversation with Croesus, Solon's role as an inquirer-like character has a metanarrative dimension, as well.

The external narrator Herodotus invites his readers—the external audience—to evaluate both the way that Solon presents information to Croesus and the way that Croesus responds to that information. In the process, Herodotus engages in a dialogue with readers about what an inquirer, in connection with that inquirer's specific audience, should and should not do. Herodotus can look on with sympathy as Solon tries to convince Croesus of the historical information at his disposal. Indeed, except for Solon's lack of success in persuading his own audience Croesus to believe him, readers will see much in the Herodotean Solon that reminds them of the truth-telling inquirer Herodotus himself. Ultimately, however, it is Solon's very failure to be taken seriously by his audience Croesus—at least not until much later, when Croesus is at the point of death on the pyre (1.86)—that distinguishes the rival inquirer Solon from Herodotus.

Solon's “using the truth” When Croesus asks Solon the identity of the most “prosperous” (olbios) man Solon has seen (1.30.2), Herodotus intrudes into the narrative and, before Solon can answer Croesus, offers an authorial comment. ὁ μὲν ἐλπίζων εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ὀλβιώτατος ταῦτα ἐπειρώτα, Σόλων δὲ οὐδὲν ὑποθωπεύσας, ἀλλὰ τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος λέγει· Ὦ βασιλεῦ, Τέλλον Ἀθηναῖον. Page 27 → [[Croesus] was asking this because he believed that he [himself] was most prosperous of men, but Solon did not flatter him at all, but while using the truth said, “King, Tellus, an Athenian.”] (1.30.3) With this authorial comment, Herodotus seeks to guide readers in how they should evaluate what Solon says in the latter's conversation with Croesus. Before Solon answers Croesus’ question about who is most olbios, Herodotus informs readers that Solon “does not flatter [Croesus] at all” (οὐδὲν ὑποθωπεύσας), but responds by “using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος). Most directly, Herodotus’ authorial comment about Solon in 1.30.3 applies to Solon's four word answer, Ὦ βασιλεῦ, Τέλλον Ἀθηναῖον (“King, Tellus, an Athenian”). Presumably, however, Herodotus’ comment in 1.30.3 extends both to Solon's forthcoming Tellus logos (1.30.4–5) and to all that Solon tells Croesus in 1.30.3–32 as a whole. The comment that Herodotus makes in 1.30.3 can be compared to a comment that he makes in 5.50.2. Both authorial comments have a similar purpose: to guide readers in their evaluation of the words spoken by an internal narrator. The comment in 5.50.2 occurs in the episode involving Aristagoras of Miletus and the Spartan king Cleomenes (5.49–51). Since chapter 3 is devoted to this episode, we will only briefly examine Herodotus’ comment in 5.50.2 here. In 5.49–51, Aristagoras (the internal narrator) is trying to persuade Cleomenes (the internal audience) to invade Asia with the Lacedaemonian army, and in the process to lend military support to the Ionians for the Ionian Revolt. Aristagoras’ discourse is deceptive, however, not only because he stresses the ease with which the Lacedaemonians could accomplish a military conquest of Asia, but also because he seeks—with the aid of the bronze map of the world that he has brought with himself—to minimize the distances involved in such a conquest. When Cleomenes finally asks Aristagoras how far it is from Ionia to the Persian capital city of Susa, Herodotus states that “[Aristagoras] should not have told the truth” (χρεὸν…μιν μὴ λέγειν τὸ ἐόν, 5.50.2) to Cleomenes about the length of the journey to Susa. In fact, Herodotus says that “in this, [Aristagoras] was tripped up” (ἐν τούτῳ ἐσφάλη); the demonstrative τούτῳ (“this”) refers to Aristagoras’ “telling the truth” (λέγειν τὸ ἐόν). Aristagoras is “tripped up” here because Cleomenes, in his shock at how long it actually would take the Lacedaemonians to complete a journey from Ionia to Susa, orders Aristagoras to leave Sparta altogether at this point (5.50.3). According to Herodotus’ comments in 1.30.3 and in 5.50.2, one thing that Solon and Aristagoras have in common is that both characters somehow Page 28 → employ “the truth” (τὸ ἐόν). Solon “uses to eon” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος), while Aristagoras “says/tells to eon” (λέγειν τὸ ἐόν). The substantive phrase τὸ ἐόν is a combination of the definite article and the neuter participle of εἶναι (“to be”). Thus, a literal translation of to eon would be “(the) being” and so “that which is”; by extension, to eon denotes “the truth” or “reality.”5 In the Histories, τὸ ἐόν

and ἡ ἀληθείη (“truth”) appear to be closely related concepts.6 I argued in the introduction that Herodotus presents himself as an inquirer committed to telling the truth to his readers, and we saw there that on a few occasions, Herodotus explicitly applies words with the ἀληθ-root to his own authorial role as an inquirer.7 By contrast, Herodotus never uses the expression τὸ ἐόν in this self-referential fashion.8 Another thing that Solon in the Solon-Croesus episode (1.29–33) and Aristagoras in the Aristagoras-Cleomenes episode (5.49–51) have in common is that they both can be considered “rival inquirers” for Herodotus. In this chapter, the correspondences between Solon and Herodotus as inquirers are examined. Similarly, we see in chapter 3 that Aristagoras takes on the appearance of Herodotus in several respects. For example, as he gives Cleomenes an ethnological account of the peoples of Asia, Aristagoras uses much the same language and vocabulary that Herodotus himself uses in his own ethnographies. Nevertheless, however much Aristagoras may resemble Herodotus as an inquirer, Herodotus ultimately draws a contrast between himself and Aristagoras. Explicitly, Herodotus corrects and supplements Aristagoras’ account of the length of the journey from Ionia to Susa (5.54.1). Implicitly, Aristagoras’ troubled relationship with truth separates him from Herodotus. Aristagoras is “tripped up” (ἐσφάλη, 5.50.2) when he lets the truth slip to Cleomenes. According to Herodotus’ authorial selfpresentation, however, the commitment to reporting the truth is a fundamental attribute of an inquirer. If “telling the truth” (λέγειν τὸ ἐόν, 5.50.2) is a mistake for Aristagoras, might “using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος, 1.30.3) also be a mistake for Solon? Aristagoras’ attempt to persuade Cleomenes to give him Lacedaemonian aid is put in serious jeopardy when Aristagoras reveals just how long it would take the Lacedaemonians to travel from Ionia to Page 29 → Susa. Telling the truth is a bad rhetorical move for Aristagoras. Solon's decision to “use the truth” in his conversation with Croesus proves to be no more persuasive. At the end of their conversation, Croesus even concludes that Solon is both “of no account” (λόγου…οὐδενὸς) and “very stupid” (κάρτα…ἀμαθέα) (1.33); these are hardly the judgments of a man who has responded favorably to Solon's “using the truth.” A key difference between the Aristagoras-Cleomenes episode (5.49–51) and the SolonCroesus episode (1.29–33), however, is that in the former it is primarily the internal narrator Aristagoras who seeks something from Cleomenes (Lacedaemonian aid) and that in the latter it is primarily the internal narratee Croesus who seeks something from Solon (acknowledgement that Croesus is the most prosperous). And yet the internal narrator Solon himself still wants to persuade Croesus of something—specifically, that Croesus should heed his words. As we will see, Solon's words serve, in part, as a warning to Croesus to beware disastrous reversals in Croesus’ own life. In his effort to convince Croesus to listen to what he has to say, Solon seems actually—according to Herodotus’ comment in 1.30.3—to have a two-pronged rhetorical strategy: to “use the truth” and, conversely, “to flatter Croesus in no way.” Given Croesus’ negative reaction to Solon's message in 1.29–33, Solon's rhetorical strategy appears misguided on both counts. Paradoxically, in his conversation with Croesus, Solon might have been more persuasive with the Lydian king if Solon had included somewhat more “flattery” and somewhat less “truth.” Herodotus’ statement in 1.30.3 that Solon “does not flatter [Croesus] at all” (οὐδὲν ὑποθωπεύσας), but instead answers Croesus “while using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος), therefore, may not redound completely to Solon's credit. Admittedly, the verb ὑποθωπεύειν has few positive connotations in Greek. “[W]in by flattery,” is how Liddell and Scott (1968, s.v. ὑποθωπεύω) translate the verb, and J. E. Powell (1938, 368) translates the hapax ὑποθωπεύσας in 1.30.3 as “delicately flatter.”9 Although the uncompounded verb θωπεύειν—which does not occur in Herodotus—has the general meaning of “flatter, wheedle,” it does occasionally sport such positive meanings as “caress” and “soothe” (Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. θωηεύω). But it is precisely the prefix ὑπο-, which can connote something done secretly, stealthily, or underhandedly, that ensures the strongly negative tone of the compound verb ὑποθωπεύειν.10 Nevertheless, by avoiding flattery completely, Solon's words prove unpalatable to Croesus, who, as king, would no doubt have been accustomed to receive much more Page 30 → congenial responses from his interlocutors. Instead of flattery, Solon opts for “using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος). We saw that both Aristagoras in 5.49–51 and Solon in 1.29–33 are involved with τὸ ἐόν, and, moreover, that both Aristagoras and Solon engage in historiographical activities that make them within the text of the Histories rival inquirers for Herodotus. When Solon is “using to eon,” he is doing something very close to practicing historiography. We can see this from the fact that, although Herodotus does not use the phrase τὸ ἐόν of himself in this way, he does use

the closely related concept of ἀληθείη (‘truth’) to refer to his own authorial role as an inquirer. Furthermore, Herodotus places the phrase τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος immediately before Solon answers “Tellus” to Croesus’ question about who is most olbios (1.30.3). Presumably, Solon assumed this inquirer-like role because he thought that it would better enable him to convince Croesus of what he had to say. In the end, however, Solon's double decision to forego flattery and to employ truth hardly proves persuasive with Croesus. Solon's questionable choice of resorting to historiography in 1.29–33 ultimately severs the ties that exist between Solon and Herodotus as an inquirer. Herodotus proves himself to be a better inquirer than Solon by showing Solon's failure to take his audience into account. An inquirer, Herodotus suggests, not only tells the truth, but convinces his audience of the truth, and while Solon succeeds at the former, he fails to do the latter. Solon does not recognize the fact that Croesus is the wrong audience for his historical presentation. Croesus does not want Solon to play the inquirer; he wants Solon to tell him what Croesus thinks he already knows: that he is the most “prosperous” (olbios) of men. Thus, by his comment in 1.30.3 that Solon is “flattering in no way, but using the truth,” Herodotus allows his readers to take an ironical viewpoint not only of Croesus as an audience, but also of Solon as a narrator. Readers can appreciate the folly of Solon's “using the truth” with a king (Croesus) who has absolutely no interest in that truth. The rival inquirer Solon apparently does not know his audience very well. This is why Solon fails in a comparison with Herodotus. The latter presents himself, at any rate, as being perfectly in tune with his audience; Herodotus knows what his audience wants—historical truth—and in the Histories he strives to give it to them.

Solon's Tellus logos (1.30.3–5) Solon is at his most Herodotus-like at the very beginning of his dialogue with Croesus, when Solon presents to Croesus the Tellus logos (1.30.3–5). Page 31 → In fact, Solon's story about Tellus marks the first time in the Histories that one character in direct discourse gives an account of a past event to another character. By giving an account of a past event, Solon assumes a role that Herodotus’ readers have heretofore associated only with the Herodotean narrator. Accordingly, Solon becomes a rival inquirer—the first rival inquirer—for Herodotus in the Histories, and Croesus becomes the first internal audience for such an inquirer.11 One aspect of the Tellus logos that links Solon with Herodotus as an inquirer is the historical nature of the story. Solon refers to a specific battle that the Athenians once fought “at Eleusis” (ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι) against “their neighbors” (τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας) (1.30.5); it was in this battle that the Athenian Tellus both led the charge in routing the enemy and was himself slain. Solon does not explicitly date this battle, but this does not mean that Herodotus foregoes grounding this battle in any way chronologically. That is to say, the Tellus story should not be read—as some scholars have—as a timeless exemplum, almost on the level of a fable.12 The Herodotean narrator himself is often vague about when past events occurred.13 This is not surprising, given both that for the most part Herodotus was drawing upon oral traditions for his work, and that there were as yet very few written records of any sort for him to consult.14 For example, after he tells of the Olympic victor Cylon's failed attempt to establish himself as tyrant of Athens, Herodotus simply states that “these things happened before the time of Pisistratus” (ταῦτα πρὸ τῆς Πεισιστράτου ἡλικίης ἐγένετο, Page 32 → 5.71.2).15 Associating Cylon with Pisistratus allows Herodotus to draw an implicit contrast between the would-be Athenian tyrant Cylon and Pisistratus, who would ultimately manage to become the first to rule Athens as a tyrant.16 For Pisistratus’ triple bids at tyranny, readers would be able to refer to Herodotus’ own account on the matter in 1.59–64. Mentioning Pisistratus in connection with Cylon, moreover, also allows Herodotus to provide an historical anchor, as it were, for the Cylon story (5.71). And Pisistratus’ reign (561–27 BCE) is that anchor.17 In addition to what Herodotus tells his readers about Pisistratus, Herodotus’ original Greek audience—especially the Athenian members of that audience—would have almost certainly already possessed some knowledge of the tyrant Pisistratus.18 Herodotus relies on his readers’ ability to place Pisistratus in at least a rough chronological framework so that they can date Cylon to some time prior to Pisistratus’ reign.19 Never mind that modern scholars usually date Cylon's attempt at tyranny as early as 636 BCE—essentially a hundred years before Pisistratus’ tyranny.20 Page 33 → It still holds true that Cylon, as Herodotus tells his readers, lived “before the time of Pisistratus.”

Just as Herodotus uses the figure of Pisistratus to situate Cylon chronologically in 5.71—however insecure that situating may be—so he uses the figure of Solon to situate Tellus chronologically in 1.30.3–5. Whereas in 5.71 it is the Herodotean narrator who narrates the Cylon story and then mentions Pisistratus, in 1.30.3–5 it is Solon himself who is the (internal) narrator of the Tellus story, and at the same time the chronological anchor for Tellus. Indeed, the very fact that the Herodotean Solon mentions the battle in which Tellus dies yields a generalized date for this battle: readers can assume that the battle took place either before or during Solon's own lifetime.21 The one more-or-less secure date we have for Solon is 594/3 BCE—the traditional date of his archonship. Perhaps, then, if we want to date more precisely the battle in which Tellus dies, we can say that the battle was fought some time in the late seventh or early sixth century.22 Stretching back into the seventh century was Athens’ protracted struggle with Megara over control of the island of Salamis.23 Accordingly, many modern scholars identify the battle in which Tellus fell as one of the battles that Athens fought against Megara during this period.24 According to this reading, the Megarians would be the “neighbors” (τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας) whom, according to Solon, the Athenians fought at the site of Eleusis (ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι) (1.30.5).25 Page 34 → Within the text of the Histories, however, Herodotus can allow Solon to be vague as to the battle's chronology because Herodotus can be sure that his original Greek audience—again, especially Athenians—could draw upon whatever knowledge of the poet, lawgiver, and sage Solon that they possessed in order to date the battle in relation to Solon himself.26 Thus, with the Tellus logos (1.30.3–5) Solon resembles Herodotus as an inquirer both in that he gives an account of a past event (the battle in which Tellus dies) and in that, as Herodotus uses the historical figure of Pisistratus to date Cylon in 5.71, Solon, in effect, uses a historical figure—himself—as a rough means of dating the battle. The objection could be raised that Solon's account differs from Herodotean inquiry because Herodotus normally cites sources for the stories he reports, while Solon cites no source for the Tellus logos. Herodotus’ audience, however, would have understood that Solon had no need to cite a source for his account. Given that Herodotus as narrator typically cites epichoric (or “native”) sources, Solon can be viewed as an epichoric source for his own story. Even without citing a source, therefore, Solon still follows the methods of Herodotean inquiry. There has been much scholarly discussion of the way that Herodotus refers to the various sources for his work, especially in the wake of Detlev Fehling's 1989 study, which argues that Herodotus’ source citations are almost entirely fictitious.27 Fehling concludes that Herodotus cites his sources according to fixed, artificial, purely literary rules, such as the “Principle of Citing the Obvious Source” (Athenians are cited as the source for stories about Athenians; Corinthians for stories about Corinthians), and the “Principle of Regard for Party Bias” (Athenian sources defend Athenian actions; Corinthian sources Corinthian actions). Nino Luraghi (2001b, 144) asserts that these two rules of Fehling, in particular, “really allow us to explain all of Herodotus’ source references.” But Luraghi issues the strong caveat that these two rules are (140) “basically sound” only (140n.8) “[p]rovided that one takes the so-called source references for what they are—that is, not source references.” For Luraghi, not only does Herodotus lack any intention of deceiving his audience with invented source citations (contra Fehling), but also Herodotus never intends in the first place to indicate the sources Page 35 → for his work by such statements as “Athenians say” (e.g., Ἀθηναῖοι λέγουσι, 6.137.3, 4).28 Rather, with such statements—which Luraghi prefers to call “ἀκοή [‘hearsay'] statements”—Herodotus indicates his consistent belief that each community possesses knowledge about its own past.29 Thus, if Herodotus reports a story about Athens, Herodotus takes as a given that the ultimate “source”—for lack of a better word—for that story must have been Athenians, who, again, would know, if anyone did, what had happened in their city.30 In narrating the Tellus logos in 1.30.3–5, Solon reflects Herodotus’ own practice of citing epichoric sources. If the narrator Herodotus had told the Tellus logos himself, he would have probably attributed the story to unspecified “Athenians” by using expressions such as “Athenians say” (Ἀθηναῖοι λέγουσι) or “it is said” (λέγεται). By contrast, Solon makes no such attribution. Solon cites no source because he himself is the source; he is an epichoric source come to life. As an Athenian, the Herodotean Solon can be expected to know what has happened in his city—in this case, both the life of Tellus and the battle in which Tellus dies. Solon thus relates the Tellus logos on his own authority. As part of establishing his authority with his audience (i.e., Croesus), Solon even draws attention to his own expertise on matters Athenian: he qualifies his statement that Tellus was “well off in his livelihood” (τοῦ βίου εὖ ἥκοντι) by adding the expression “as things [are] among us” (ὡς τὰ παρ᾽ ἡμῖν)—the “us” here being the Athenians. In the process of giving his authoritative account, moreover, Solon fulfills

Fehling's “Principle of Citing the Obvious Source”; an Athenian, Solon tells a story about another Athenian, Tellus. By naming Tellus as the most “prosperous” (olbios) man, Solon also fulfills Fehling's “Principle of Regard for Party Bias”; an Athenian, Solon naturally thinks that the most olbios man could only be another Athenian. Page 36 → Beyond Solon's being Athenian, however, Solon gives no clear indication of how he knows the Tellus logos that he narrates in 1.30.3–5. It is uncertain whether the Herodotean Solon—and so Herodotus himself—originally heard (from an oral source) or read (from a written source) about Tellus.31 Another possibility, of course, is that Solon was personally acquainted with his fellow citizen Tellus. Regardless, Solon does not say that he has actually “seen” Tellus.32 It is true that in response to Croesus’ question as to whom Solon had “seen” (εἶδες, 1.30.2) to be the most olbios Solon answers “Tellus.” But Croesus’ focus on “seeing” here is tendentious: Croesus surely expects Solon, who is presumably looking right at Croesus as the latter asks this question, to answer that Croesus himself is the most olbios man whom Solon has seen. Croesus is trying to set ground rules for this contest in “prosperousness” that are favorable to himself. Solon, however, is not compelled to play by Croesus’ rules, any more than he is compelled to name Croesus the most olbios. Indeed, after first prize in prosperousness goes to Tellus, Croesus will ask once more whom Solon has “seen” (ἴδοι, 1.31.1) to be (second most) olbios. This time, Solon strongly implies that he has not seen the second-place winners, Cleobis and Biton. By claiming that the story of Cleobis and Biton “is told” (λέγεται, 1.31.2), Solon suggests that he has only heard of—but not seen—these two men. Perhaps Solon has only heard of Tellus, too, but following Herodotus’ method of citing epichoric sources, Solon cannot make this claim. Solon cannot imply that he has heard the Tellus story from unspecified “Athenians,” for instance, because, again, within the text of the Histories, Solon is the Athenian source for the story. For Herodotus’ readers, the Athenian “saying” the Tellus logos—and thus the figure taking the place of the expression “Athenians say”—is Solon himself. A third way that Solon mirrors Herodotus’ own habits as an inquirer lies in Solon's allusion to a physical monument as confirmation of the Tellus logos. An example of the Herodotean narrator's own use of a physical monument to confirm the veracity of a story comes in 8.82.1: Herodotus explains Page 37 → that before the Battle of Salamis a ship from Tenos deserted from the Persian navy, and the ship's crew informed the Greeks that the Persian ships had the Greek ships surrounded. It was in return for this action on the part of the Tenians, says Herodotus, that the Tenians were added to the inscription on the victory monument that was dedicated at Delphi following the Battle of Plataea, and that listed the Greek states responsible for defeating the Persians in the Persian War. This monument was what modern commentators normally call the Serpent Column, which originally consisted of a golden tripod placed on a stand (or column) in the form of three intertwined serpents; a list of thirtyone Greek peoples, including the Tenians, can still be seen inscribed on the serpents’ coils.33 By explicitly mentioning that the Tenians’ names had been inscribed on the monument at Delphi, Herodotus implies that one could go to Delphi and see this monument, along with its accompanying inscription, for oneself. The resultant viewing of this monument—that is, one's engaging in personal autopsy (ὄψις)—would help confirm the story Herodotus tells in 8.82 about the Tenians’ actions before Salamis.34 In the case of Solon's Tellus logos, the physical monument in question is the tomb of Tellus on the battlefield at Eleusis. According to Solon, after Tellus “came to [his city's] aid and routed the enemy, he died most nobly” (βοηθήσας καὶ τροπὴν ποιήσας τῶν πολεμίων ἀπέθανε κάλλιστα, 1.30.5). As a reward for his martial exploits, the Athenians “buried [Tellus] right there where he had fallen” (ἔθαψαν αὐτοῦ τῇ περ ἔπεσε), and they did so “at public expense” (δημοσίῃ). Solon ends his account by emphasizing that with such a burial the Athenians “honored [Tellus] greatly” (ἐτίμησαν μεγάλως).35 With the great honors that the Athenians confer on Tellus upon Page 38 → his burial, Solon appears to allude to a tomb for Tellus.36 A hundred or so years later, the Athenians did erect a monument for their fallen warriors on a much more famous battlefield: Marathon. Based on the parallel of the tomb at Marathon, we can conclude that Tellus, who was buried on the battlefield at Eleusis, also had a tomb. In his own account of the Battle of Marathon (6.102–17), Herodotus makes no mention of tombs on the battlefield there. For these tombs, we must turn to Pausanius (1.32.3),37 who writes regarding the Athenians’ tomb (τάφος) at Marathon.

τάφος δὲ ἐν τῷ πεδίῳ Ἀθηναίων ἐστίν, ἐπὶ δὲ αὐτῷ στῆλαι τὰ ὀνόματα τῶν ἀποθανόντων κατὰ φυλὰς ἑκάστων ἔχουσαι. [On the plain [of Marathon] there is a tomb belonging to Athenians, and upon it [i.e., the tomb] stēlai have the names of those who died [arranged] according to the tribes of each of them.] (1.32.3) That burial on the battlefield was an extraordinary honor for Athenians in general is brought out by Thucydides (2.34). According to Thucydides, the normal Athenian custom—at least in the fifth century—was to bury all the Athenian war dead in a public tomb (τὸ δημόσιον σῆμα, 2.34.5) in a suburb of Athens.38 πλήν γε τοὺς ἐν Μαραθῶνι· ἐκείνων δὲ διαπρεπῆ τὴν ἀρετὴν κρίναντες αὐτοῦ καὶ τὸν τάφον ἐποίησαν. [except, at any rate, for those at Marathon. Since they judged the courage of those men [i.e., those Athenians who died at Marathon] to be excellent, [the Athenians], made their burial/tomb right there.] (2.34.5) If the fifth-century fallen at Marathon could be so honored with a tomb (τάφος) on the battlefield, it is likely that the seventh-century (?) Tellus—whom the Herodotean Solon definitely says was buried on the battlefield—had been honored with some sort of tomb as well. This tomb may have still been visible at Eleusis in Herodotus’ own day, and if there was an inscription on the tomb, that inscription may have even played some part in the Page 39 → construction of Herodotus'—and the Herodotean Solon's—account of Tellus.39 If Tellus did have a tomb at Eleusis, then Solon's alluding to this tomb is a means of underlining the veracity of his account. The implication of Solon's allusion would be both that one could go to Eleusis and see the tomb (and possibly its accompanying inscription) for oneself and that by seeing the tomb—again, by engaging in personal autopsy (opsis)—one would have the historicity of Tellus’ exploits at Eleusis (at least partially) confirmed.

Solon's Cleobis and Biton logos (1.31) When Solon awards second prize in prosperousness to Cleobis and Biton, he once again does not do what Croesus expects. Solon does not wait for Croesus’ reaction as he previously did when he had answered “Tellus” to Croesus’ question about who is most olbios. Instead, Solon launches right into his account of the Argive brothers’ lives and (especially) deaths. ὁ δὲ εἶπε· Κλέοβίν τε καὶ Βίτωνα. τούτοισι γὰρ ἐοῦσι γένος Ἀργείοισι βίος τε ἀρκέων ὑπῆν καὶ πρὸς τούτῳ ῥώμη σώματος τοιήδε· ἀεθλοφόροι τε ἀμφότεροι ὁμοίως ἦσαν, καὶ δὴ καὶ λέγεται ὅδε ὁ λόγος· ἀἐούσης ὁρτῆς τῇ Ἥρῃ τοῖσι Ἀργείοισι ἔδεε πάντως τὴν μητέρα αὐτῶν ζεύγεϊ κομισθῆναι ἐς τὸ ἱρόν, οἱ δέ σφι βόες ἐκ τοῦ ἀγροῦ οὐ παρεγίνοντο ἐν ὥρῃ· ἐκκληιόμενοι δὲ τῇ ὥρῃ οἱ νεηνίαι ὑποδύντες αὐτοὶ ὑπὸ τὴν ζεύγλην εἷλκον τὴν ἅμαξαν, ἐπὶ τῆς ἁμάξης δέ σφι ὠχέετο ἡ μήτηρ, σταδίους δὲ πέντε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα διακομίσαντες ἀπίκοντο ἐς τὸ ἱρόν. ταῦτα δέ σφι ποιήσασι καὶ ὀφθεῖσι ὑπὸ τῆς πανηγύριος τελευτὴ τοῦ βίου ἀρίστη ἐπεγένετο, διέδεξέ τε ἐν τούτοισι ὁ θεὸς ὡς ἄμεινον εἴη ἀνθρώπῳ τεθνάναι μᾶλλον ἢ ζώειν. Ἀργεῖοι μὲν γὰρ περιστάντες ἐμακάριζον τῶν νεηνιέων τὴν ῥώμην, αἱ δὲ Ἀργεῖαι τὴν μητέρα αὐτῶν, οἵων τέκνων ἐκύρησε. ἡ δὲ μήτηρ περιχαρὴς ἐοῦσα τῷ τε ἔργῳ καὶ τῇ φήμῃ, στᾶσα ἀντίον τοῦ ἀγάλματος εὔχετο Κλεόβι τε καὶ Βίτωνι τοῖσι ἑωυτῆς τέκνοισι, οἵ μιν ἐτίμησαν μεγάλως, τὴν θεὸν δοῦναι τὸ ἀνθρώπῳ τυχεῖν ἄριστόν ἐστι. μετὰ ταύτην δὲ τὴν εὐχὴν ὡς ἔθυσάν τε καὶ εὐωχήθησαν, κατακοιμηθέντες ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ ἱρῷ οἱ νεηνίαι οὐκέτι ἀνέστησαν, ἀλλ᾽ ἐν τέλεϊ τούτῳ ἔσχοντο. Ἀργεῖοι δέ σφεων εἰκόνας ποιησάμενοι ἀνέθεσαν ἐς Δελφοὺς ὡς ἀνδρῶν ἀρίστων γενομένων. Page 40 → [[Solon] said, “Cleobis and Biton. For they, being Argive by birth, had sufficient livelihood, and in addition they had such strength of body as the following: they were both alike prize-winning [athletes], and especially the following story is told [about them]: when the Argives were holding a festival for Hera, [Cleobis’ and Biton's] mother was absolutely obligated to be conveyed by yoked

cart to the shrine, but their oxen were not back from the fields in time. Since they were prevented [from getting the oxen] by the time, the young men themselves got under the yoke and dragged the wagon, and their mother went upon the wagon. When they had carried [their mother] for forty-five stades, they arrived at the shrine. After they had done this and had been seen by the festival crowd, the end of their life turned out to be very good, and the god showed in them that it is better for a human being to be dead than to be living. For Argive men, while standing around them, were counting the young men blessed for their strength, and the Argive women were counting their mother blessed for what sort of children she had gotten. Their mother, since she was exceedingly joyful in their accomplishment and in the talk [about them], while standing in front of the cult statue [of Hera], prayed that the goddess give to Cleobis and Biton, her own sons, who had honored her greatly, that which is best for a human being to obtain. After this prayer, when they had sacrificed and feasted, the young men, once they had fallen asleep in the shrine itself, no longer rose up, but were held in this end. Argives had statues of [Cleobis and Biton] made, and they dedicated them at Delphi, [claiming] that they had proven to be very good men.”] (1.31)

Although Herodotus does not interject as narrator before Solon's account of Cleobis and Biton (1.31) as he does before Solon's account of Tellus (1.30.3–5), where he states that Solon is “using the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος, 1.30.3), Herodotus’ statement in 1.30.3 probably does extend to all of Solon's words to Croesus in 1.30–32, and this would include what Solon says about Cleobis and Biton. The Cleobis and Biton logos (1.31) has a pronounced historical sense, just as the Tellus logos (1.30.3–5) does, but while the historical events in the Tellus logos are connected to a specific time and occasion, the historical events in the Cleobis and Biton logos are connected to a specific location. We saw that the Tellus story has a definite historical component: Tellus dies in a specific battle fought at Eleusis between Athens and her neighbors (the Megarians?) probably in the late seventh or early sixth century BCE. It is Page 41 → harder to pin the events that occur in the Cleobis and Biton story down to a specific time and occasion. By contrast, the place at which the events occur in this story is well delineated: the Argive shrine (τὸ ἱρόν, 1.31.2 bis; τῷ ἱρῷ, 1.32.5) to Hera. To this shrine, the brothers Cleobis and Biton carry their mother (who, according to Plutarch, was a priestess of Hera), and at this shrine, Cleobis and Biton die.40 The occasion for these events is a festival held at the shrine by the Argives in honor of Hera (ἐούσης ὁρτῆς τῇ Ἥρῃ τοῖσι Ἀργείοισι); the festival to which Herodotus here refers was the festival that was celebrated annually in Argos for that city's patron goddess.41 For the dating of the specific festival during which Cleobis and Biton died, however, readers can rely only on the fact that the Herodotean Solon is the one telling the story. Herodotus’ readers must assume—just as they must in the case of Tellus—that the historical figures Cleobis and Biton either lived prior to Solon or were Solon's contemporaries. Not only does Solon emphasize the historicity of the Cleobis and Biton logos through his grounding of the story in a specific and well-known location, but he also makes this account seem historical through his narration of the story, which displays inquirer-like characteristics analogous to those that Solon displays in his narration of the Tellus logos. First, Solon refers to the source for the Cleobis and Biton story by using the expression “it is said /told” (λέγεται). Solon says that “the following story is told” (λέγεται ὅδε ὁ λόγος, 1.31.2) about Cleobis and Biton. Regarding the Herodotean narrator's own use of λέγεται, Robin Waterfield (2009, 489) argues that there are plenty of instances where the mere use of the impersonal verb [λέγεται] seems to distance Herodotus somewhat from his sources, as an acknowledgement that they do not necessarily command belief. “It is said” can be indistinguishable from the more skeptical “or so it is said.” And so even such an apparently neutral word as λέγεται can become a vehicle for authorial intrusion. As an example, Waterfield cites 1.87.1, in which Herodotus introduces the story about Croesus’ miraculous rescue from the pyre with the words λέγεται ὑπὸ Λύδων (“it is said by Lydians”). On the one hand, these words Page 42 → in 1.87.1 may indicate simply that Lydians are naturally the ones who tell this story, since the story involves the Lydian king Croesus. The words would correspond, then, to Fehling's “Principle of Citing the Obvious Source.” On the other hand, says Waterfield, the words may be a means for Herodotus to let readers know that

while the Lydians may claim that in answer to Croesus’ prayers the god Apollo sent a rainstorm to put out the burning pyre that threatened to kill Croesus, Herodotus refuses to endorse the Lydian account fully. Thus, in addition to indicating the Lydian “source” for the story of Croesus’ rescue, the words λέγεται ὑπὸ Λύδων in 1.87.1 allow Herodotus to distance himself from the fabulous or divine elements in this story. Similarly, the words λέγεται ὅδε ὁ λόγος in 1.31.2 serve as a distancing device for Solon. With λέγεται, Solon indicates that the “story” (ὁ λόγος) he is telling is not his own.42 We saw that Solon cites no source for the Tellus logos because, as an Athenian, Solon himself can be considered the story's source. With the Cleobis and Biton logos, however, Solon must cite a source because the story is not Athenian, but rather Argive in origin. The word λέγεται in 1.31.2, therefore, is the equivalent of Ἀργεῖοι λέγουσι (“Argives say”). Solon further highlights the nonAthenian origin of the Cleobis and Biton logos by carefully avoiding any use of the first person in relation to this story. Whereas the Athenian Solon claims that the Athenian Tellus was “well off in his livelihood, as things [are] among us” (τοῦ βίου εὖ ἥκοντι, ὡς τὰ παρ᾽ ἡμῖν, 1.30.4), Solon simply says that the Argives Cleobis and Biton had “sufficient livelihood” (βίος…ἀρκέων, 1.31.2). With the word λέγεται in 1.31.2, moreover, Solon may also seek to distance himself somewhat from the supernatural elements in the Cleobis and Biton logos. Just as Herodotus uses λέγεται to distance himself from the Lydian claim that it was the god Apollo who rescued Croesus from the pyre (1.87.1), Solon would thus be implying with λέγεται in 1.31.2 that other people—in this case, Argives—say that the deaths of Cleobis and Biton were granted by the goddess Hera, but Solon himself does not necessarily share this belief about their deaths. A second way that Solon as narrator of the Cleobis and Biton logos reflects Herodotus’ own historiographical practice lies in Solon's use of Page 43 → physical monuments to confirm the veracity of this story. We saw that in conjunction with the Tellus logos Solon does a closely analogous thing by (possibly) alluding to Tellus’ tomb at Eleusis. With regard to Cleobis and Biton, the physical monuments are the “statues” (εἰκόνας) of these two brothers that the Argives “dedicated” (ἀνέθεσαν) at Delphi (1.31.5). Solon makes a point to mention these two statues at the very end of the Cleobis and Biton logos; indeed, it is the existence of these statues that helps corroborate the story that Solon has just told about Cleobis and Biton in 1.31.43 The implication of Solon's mention of the statues of Cleobis and Biton would be both that one could go to Delphi and, through personal autopsy (opsis), see the statues for oneself; by seeing the statues, moreover, one would have the historicity of Cleobis and Biton's exploits—at least partially—confirmed.44 As narrator, Herodotus does something very similar in the case of the poet and musician Arion of Methymna (1.23–24), who was reportedly rescued from the sea by a dolphin and carried to Taenarum. At the end of his account of Arion, Herodotus mentions a “small, bronze dedicatory statue of Arion” (Ἀρίονος…ἀνάθημα χάλκεον οὐ μέγα, 1.24.8), which depicted a man riding a dolphin and which had been set up at Taenarum. The existence of this statue helps corroborate the story that Herodotus has just told about Arion in 1.23–24. Thus, just as Herodotus uses the statue at Taenarum as a visual confirmation of his account about Arion (1.23–24), so Solon uses the statues at Delphi as a visual confirmation of his account about Cleobis and Biton (1.31).45

Croesus’ Reaction to Solon's Words (1.29–33 and 1.86) The stories of Tellus (1.30.3–5) and of Cleobis and Biton (1.31) seem to have little positive effect on Croesus. Regardless of these stories’ historiographical trappings—such as the way Solon refers to the respective sources for these stories or the way he alludes to autopsy of physical monuments as a Page 44 → means of confirming the veracity of the stories—Croesus appears unimpressed by and uninterested in the stories. Whatever Solon is trying to accomplish by assuming an inquirer-like role in his narration of these two accounts completely escapes Croesus’ comprehension. Later, when he has been consigned to his death on the pyre (1.86), Croesus eventually responds in a positive manner to Solon's words, but apparently only to the more general comments on what “prosperousness” means for human beings that Solon makes in the second half of his response to Croesus in 1.32. At the time of his actual conversation with Solon in 1.29–33, however, Croesus can only conclude that, based on what Solon has told him, the latter is a man of little intelligence (1.33). Within the context of his conversation with Solon, Croesus does not appear to exert any effort at all to understand exactly why Solon has told him the Tellus logos in 1.30.3–5. Granted, when, in reply to Croesus’ question about

who is most olbios, Solon simply says, “King, Tellus, an Athenian” (Ὦ βασιλεῦ, Τέλλον Ἀθηναῖον, 1.30.3), Croesus does very much want to know in 1.30.4 why Solon awarded Tellus first prize in “prosperousness.” Herodotus writes regarding this. ἀποθωμάσας δὲ Κροῖσος τὸ λεχθὲν εἴρετο ἐπιστρεφέως· Κοίῃ δὴ κρίνεις Τέλλον εἶναι ὀλβιώτατον; [Amazed at what had been said, Croesus asked vehemently, “In exactly what way do you judge Tellus to be the most prosperous?”] (1.30.4) Croesus’ wonder (ἀποθωμάσας) at Solon's response in 1.30.3 quickly turns to annoyance: the indignation in Croesus’ question (“In exactly what way do you judge Tellus to be the most prosperous?”) is underlined in 1.30.4 by the adverb ἐπιστρεφέως (“vehemently”).46 After Solon finishes narrating his account of Tellus (1.30.4–5), Croesus, for his part, simply moves on to asking about second prize. ὡς δὲ τὰ κατὰ τὸν Τέλλον προετρέψατο ὁ Σόλων τὸν Κροῖσον εἴπας πολλά τε καὶ ὄλβια, ἐπειρώτα τίνα δεύτερον μετ᾽ ἐκεῖνον ἴδοι, δοκέων πάγχυ δευτερεῖα γῶν οἴσεσθαι. Page 45 → [When by talking of the many prosperous things in relation to Tellus Solon had incited Croesus, [Croesus] asked whom [Solon] had seen as the second [most olbios] man after that one, thinking that he would surely win second prize, at least.] (1.31.1) The exact translation of the word προετρέψατο (literally, “turned forth”) is unclear here. What is clear is that Croesus is not pleased that he has failed to win first prize. Powell's (1938, s.v. προτρέπω) translation of προετρέψατο as “incite” captures the negative effect, at any rate, that Solon's awarding Tellus first prize has had on an irritated Croesus.47 Translations of προετρέψατο such as J. H. Sleeman's (2002, 170) “roused Croesus’ curiosity” obscure in what Croesus is interested here.48 Croesus is not the least bit curious about or interested in Tellus, nor, as we will see, is Croesus interested in Cleobis and Biton.49 It is Solon's “talk” (εἴπας) about Tellus’ “great prosperity” (πολλά τε καὶ ὄλβια, literally, “many prosperous things”)—along with Solon's awarding Tellus first prize—that has so rankled, so incited, Croesus. The Lydian king wants Solon to acknowledge that Croesus’ own wealth is extraordinary and worthy of a prize, metaphorical though the prize may be. Indeed, prior to his conversation with Solon, Croesus has already had his servants give Solon a tour of his richly stocked royal treasure houses (1.30.1). Thus, immediately after Solon has told the story of Tellus, Croesus asks Solon “whom [Solon] had seen as the second [most olbios] man after that one” (τίνα δεύτερον μετ᾽ ἐκεῖνον ἴδοι). Croesus is resolutely focused on the act of “seeing” (ἴδοι). It is as if Croesus is “thinking” (δοκέων): “Solon has seen how wealthy I am; surely (πάγχυ) I will at least (γῶν) get second prize.” Croesus proves to be no more perceptive or receptive as an audience for Page 46 → Solon's story of Cleobis and Biton than he was for Solon's story of Tellus. After Solon awards second prize to Cleobis and Biton, Herodotus writes the following words. Σόλων μὲν δὴ εὐδαιμονίης δευτερεῖα ἔνεμε τούτοισι, Κροῖσος δὲ σπερχθεὶς εἶπε· Ὦ ξεῖνε Ἀθηναῖε, ἡ δ’ ἡμετέρη εὐδαιμονίη οὕτω τοι ἀπέρριπται ἐς τὸ μηδέν, ὥστε οὐδὲ ἰδιωτέων ἀνδρῶν ἀξίους ἡμέας ἐποιήσας; [And so Solon awarded second [prize] in good fortune to these [i.e., Cleobis and Biton]. Angered, Croesus said, “Athenian guest, has our good fortune been so cast aside by you as [being] nothing that you did not even make us on a par with private citizens?”] (1.32.1) Croesus is angry (σπερχθεὶς) here because he is at a complete loss to understand why Solon thinks Tellus, Cleobis, and Biton are all more “prosperous” (olbios) than Croesus himself is.50 At the very least, Croesus has recognized in 1.32.1 that Cleobis and Biton, as well as Tellus, are quite different from himself: they are private citizens (ἰδιωτέων ἀνδρῶν), and not kings or other royalty. But Solon's inquirer-like qualities as he narrates the historical

events contained in the stories of Tellus and of Cleobis and Biton do not seem to have made any impression on Croesus. All of Solon's words to Croesus, including his repeated warnings in the second half of his response to Croesus (1.32) about the difference between being wealthy and being prosperous (olbios), fall on deaf ears. Herodotus thus concludes the Solon-Croesus episode. ταῦτα λέγων τῷ Κροίσῳ οὔ κως οὔτε ἐχαρίζετο, οὔτε λόγου μιν ποιησάμενος οὐδενὸς ἀποπέμπεται, κάρτα δόξας ἀμαθέα εἶναι, ὃς τὰ παρεόντα ἀγαθὰ μετεὶς τὴν τελευτὴν παντὸς χρήματος ὁρᾶν ἐκέλευε. [By saying these things [Solon] did not please Croesus at all. [Croesus] sent him away, considering him of no account [and] thinking that he was very stupid, he who disregarded the good things that were at hand and ordered [him] to look at the end of every matter.] (1.33) Page 47 → The “good things that are at hand” (τὰ παρεόντα ἀγαθὰ) are Croesus’ vast wealth and kingly power. In Croesus’ mind, only a man who is “very stupid” (κάρτα…ἀμαθέα) and “of no account” (λόγου…οὐδενὸς) would overlook such blessings and confer the title of “most olbios” on private citizens such as Tellus, Cleobis, and Biton. Only such a stupid/no account man, moreover, would urge Croesus “to look at the end of every matter” (τὴν τελευτὴν παντὸς χρήματος ὁρᾶν). Here, Croesus—in Herodotus’ third-person narration, at any rate—seizes upon one of the last things Solon said; namely, “one must consider the end of every matter [to see] how it will turn out” (σκοπέειν δὲ χρὴ παντὸς χρήματος τὴν τελευτὴν κῇ ἀποβήσεται, 1.32.9). Croesus essentially repeats Solon’s words, although he does substitute ὁρᾶν (“see, look at”) for Solon’s σκοπέειν (“look at, consider”). Regardless, Croesus implies that Solon’s injunction about “looking to the end” is foolish. Croesus is focused on the now; he sees no need to consider that his fortunes might change in the future. When the encounter between Solon and Croesus ends in 1.33, Croesus is still stubbornly clinging to the same belief in his own prosperity that he exhibited in the beginning of the episode. Herodotus reports that Croesus asked Solon the question that he did—namely, who was the most “prosperous” (ὄλβιος) man Solon had seen—because Croesus “believed mistakenly that he [himself] was the most prosperous of men” (ἐλπίζων εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ὀλβιώτατος, 1.30.3). For one thing, Croesus’ mistaken belief (ἐλπίζων) makes him a particularly unreceptive audience for what Solon has to say about the instability of human fortune.51 For another thing, Croesus’ belief will actually bring the wrath of the gods down on him. Immediately after the Solon-Croesus episode (1.29–33), Herodotus writes the following words. μετὰ δὲ Σόλωνα οἰχόμενον ἔλαβε ἐκ θεοῦ νέμεσις μεγάλη Κροῖσον, ὡς εἰκάσαι, ὅτι ἐνόμισε ἑωυτὸν εἶναι ἀνθρώπων ἁπάντων ὀλβιώτατον. [After Solon had gone, a great righteous indignation from a god took hold of Croesus, as it seems, because he thought that he himself was most prosperous of all human beings.52] (1.34.1) As narrator, Herodotus in 1.34.1 picks up where Solon left off in 1.32.9. Herodotus develops further, as it were, Solon's dire statement that “the god Page 48 → shows a glimpse of prosperity to many and [then] overturns them by the roots” (πολλοῖσι γὰρ δὴ ὑποδέξας ὄλβον ὁ θεὸς προρρίζους ἀνέτρεψε, 1.32.9). The divine νέμεσις (“indignation, anger, vengeance, punishment”) that is to be visited upon Croesus will definitely overturn the Lydian king “by the roots” (προρρίζους).53 Indeed, the word πρόρριζος implies familial “roots”; thus, for the gods to “overturn” (ἀνέτρεψε) a person down to his roots could involve the pruning, if not the complete destruction, of a family tree.54 Such an overturning will soon happen to Croesus himself in the loss of his son Atys. The nemesis from the gods of which Herodotus speaks in 1.34.1 will result first in the sending of a dream figure to Croesus warning him of Atys’ death by the tip of an iron spear (1.34), and, ultimately, in the slaying of Atys by Adrastus (1.43.2–3). Again, it is Croesus’ mistaken belief in his own “prosperity” (ὄλβος)—a word Solon himself uses in 1.32.9—that brings about this nemesis.

Thus, one of the narrative functions that Herodotus has Solon serve in 1.29–33 is to alert both Croesus and especially Herodotus’ readers to impending disaster in Croesus’ own life. In this role, Solon occupies the position of wise adviser—a stock (and yet varied) Herodotean character whose sage advice is often arrogantly disregarded by a king or other powerful figure.55 Solon's pronouncement that “one must consider the end of every matter [to see] how it will turn out” (1.32.9) has special point for Croesus since the latter will soon suffer such reversals in his life, starting with the death of Atys (1.34–45), and ending with Croesus’ defeat at the hands of Cyrus (1.75–85). Page 49 → Solon’s repeated admonishments in 1.32 against equating wealth with prosperity (olbos) are portentous because Croesus will soon lose all his riches to his Persian conqueror. Solon’s “jealous and troublesome” (φθονερόν τε καὶ ταραχῶδες, 1.32.1) divinity, which seizes humans’ prosperity “by the roots” (προρρίζους, 1.32.9) and casts it aside, will soon visit punishment on Croesus for his tragic presumption about his prosperity. It is this warning component of Solon's words in 1.29–33 that Croesus himself finally recognizes when the erstwhile Lydian king is about to be burned alive on the pyre (1.86). After the Persians have captured Sardis and the Persian king Cyrus has made the defeated Croesus—along with fourteen other Lydians—ascend a pyre to his death, Croesus has a flashback to his conversation with Solon. τῷ δὲ Κροίσῳ ἑστεῶτι ἐπὶ τῆς πυρῆς ἐσελθεῖν, καίπερ ἐν κακῷ ἐόντι τοσούτῳ, τὸ τοῦ Σόλωνος ὥς οἱ εἴη σὺν θεῷ εἰρημένον, τὸ μηδένα εἶναι τῶν ζωόντων ὄλβιον. ὡς δὲ ἄρα μιν προσστῆναι τοῦτο, ἀνενεικάμενόν τε καὶ ἀναστενάξαντα ἐκ πολλῆς ἡσυχίης ἐς τρὶς ὀνομάσαι ‘Σόλων’. [There came to Croesus as he stood on the pyre, although he was in such a great evil, the [saying] of Solon, as [if] it had been said by him with [the help of] a god, that no one of the living is prosperous. And, lo and behold, when this occurred to him, as he came to himself and sighed after a long silence, he called out three times the name “Solon.”] (1.86.3) Nowhere in 1.29–33 does Solon say exactly that “no one of the living is prosperous” (τὸ μηδένα εἶναι τῶν ζωόντων ὄλβιον). Rather, in 1.86.3, Croesus pieces together this sentiment from various comments made by Solon in their earlier conversation. According to Croesus, “the [thing] of Solon” (τὸ τοῦ Σόλωνος)—that is, Solon’s “saying” or “message”—concerns the inextricable connection between “prosperity” (ὄλβος) and death; hence, Croesus’ reformulation “no one of the living is prosperous.” Croesus makes this inference based on Solon’s repeated injunction in 1.29–33 that before one can deem a person “prosperous” (ὄλβιος), one must know whether that person has ended his life well.56 It seems to Croesus on the pyre—while he stands, Page 50 → as it were, on the precipice between life and death—that Solon’s thoughts are so apposite that they can only have been uttered by Solon “with [the help of] a god” (σὺν θεῷ). So reverential is Croesus toward Solon in this passage, moreover, that he almost treats Solon himself as a god.57 We might expect that Croesus at this point would call upon the gods to rescue himself from the pyre. Instead, Croesus cries out to Solon; he repeats Solon’s name (Σόλων), moreover, three times.58 Croesus continues his high praise of Solon, when under compulsion he begins to explain to a baffled Cyrus the reason he called out to Solon. Herodotus writes the following passage. καὶ τὸν Κῦρον ἀκούσαντα κελεῦσαι τοὺς ἑρμηνέας ἐπειρέσθαι τὸν Κροῖσον τίνα τοῦτον ἐπικαλέοιτο, καὶ τοὺς προσελθόντας ἐπειρωτᾶν. Κροῖσον δὲ ἕως μὲν σιγὴν ἔχειν εἰρωτώμενον, μετὰ δέ, ὡς ἠναγκάζετο, εἰπεῖν· Τὸν ἂν ἐγὼ πᾶσι τυράννοισι προετίμησα μεγάλων χρημάτων ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν. [After he heard [this], Cyrus ordered his interpreters to ask Croesus whom this was he was calling upon, and they went to him and asked him. Although for a while Croesus kept silent while being asked, afterwards, when he was forced [to answer], he said, “He whom I would have preferred over much money that he come to words with all rulers!” (1.86.4)] Croesus does not immediately tell who Solon is, therefore, but refers to Solon in rather cryptic terms. Still, Croesus does reveal enough here to indicate that Solon is at least human—not divine—since it is a human being that would “come to words” (ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν) with another human being.59 By contrast, Cyrus seems at first to

assume that Solon might be a god; the verb Cyrus uses for Croesus’ “calling upon” Solon, ἐπικαλέειν, is regularly used by Herodotus for “invoking” a god.60 (In fact, later in this same episode, Croesus will “call upon” [ἐπικαλεόμενον, 1.87.2; ἐπικαλέεσθαι, 1.87.2] the Page 51 → god Apollo to rescue him from the burning pyre.) Of course, Solon had already “come to words” with Croesus. Thus, Croesus is not saying here that he would give up “much money” (μεγάλων χρημάτων)—money which Croesus has already lost to Cyrus, anyway—for a chance to talk to Solon.61 Rather, Croesus is implying at the same time an unfulfilled wish for the past (“If only I [ἐγὼ] had heeded Solon’s warnings!”) and a wish for the future (“If only all rulers [πᾶσι τυράννοισι] would heed Solon’s warnings!”). Faced with the insistent questioning of Cyrus’ interpreters, Croesus eventually explains to Cyrus why he called upon Solon; indeed, Croesus proceeds to give a thumbnail sketch of his encounter with Solon, which Herodotus relays in the following passage. ὡς δέ σφι ἄσημα ἔφραζε, πάλιν ἐπειρώτων τὰ λεγόμενα. λιπαρεόντων δὲ αὐτῶν καὶ ὄχλον παρεχόντων ἔλεγε δὴ ὡς ἦλθε ἀρχὴν ὁ Σόλων ἐὼν Ἀθηναῖος, καὶ θεησάμενος πάντα τὸν ἑωυτοῦ ὄλβον ἀποφλαυρίσειε (οἷα δὴ εἶπας), ὥς τε αὐτῷ πάντα ἀποβεβήκοι τῇ περ ἐκεῖνος εἶπε, οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἐς ἑωυτὸν λέγων ἢ ἐς ἅπαν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον καὶ μάλιστα τοὺς παρὰ σφίσι αὐτοῖσι ὀλβίους δοκέοντας εἶναι. [Since he [i.e., Croesus] was relating things that were unintelligible to them [i.e., the interpreters], they asked again about what was said. When they were persisting and were providing a nuisance, [Croesus] said that long ago Solon, who was an Athenian, came [to him], and after he had gazed at all of [Croesus’] own wealth, he had made light of it—that was how [Croesus] put it—and [Croesus said] that everything had turned out for him in the very way that that man had said, as [Solon] was speaking not in any way more to [Croesus] himself than to all of humanity and especially to those who seem to themselves to be prosperous.] (1.86.4–5) Here, Croesus—again, in Herodotus’ third-person narration—serves as narrator of the same events that Herodotus himself narrates in 1.29–33.62 Just as Herodotus introduces Solon in 1.29.1 as “Solon, an Athenian man” (Σόλων ἀνὴρ Ἀθηναῖος), so Croesus identifies Solon in 1.86.5 as “Solon, who was an Athenian” (ὁ Σόλων ἐὼν Ἀθηναῖος). Croesus says that Solon “gazed at all of [Croesus’] own wealth” (θεησάμενος πάντα τὸν ἑωυτοῦ ὄλβον, 1.86.5). This Page 52 → is a compacted version of what Herodotus says in 1.30.1–2: first, Croesus’ servants show Solon “all the great wealth” (πάντα…μεγάλα τε καὶ ὄλβια, 1.30.1) that was in Croesus’ treasure houses, and then, after Solon has “gazed at and examined everything” (θεησάμενον…τὰ πάντα καὶ σκεψάμενον, 1.30.2), Croesus asks Solon about who is most olbios.63 When in 1.86.5 Croesus turns to events that happened after his encounter with Solon, he resumes talking about Solon almost as if the Athenian were a god. Croesus claims “that everything had turned out for him in the very way that that man had said” (ὥς τε αὐτῷ πάντα ἀποβεβήκοι τῇ περ ἐκεῖνος εἶπε). In Croesus’ view, Solon had been prescient; he was like a divinely inspired prophet or seer, who foresaw the calamities that would befall the Lydian king. Croesus now concludes, moreover, that Solon “was speaking not in any way more to [Croesus] himself than to all of humanity” (οὐδέν τι μᾶλλον ἐς ἑωυτὸν λέγων ἢ ἐς ἅπαν τὸ ἀνθρώπινον). Solon is cast here by Croesus in the role of a divinely sent messenger, who bears a warning for all human beings. (Indeed, we saw earlier that in Croesus’ view, Solon spoke “with [the help of] a god” [σὺν θεῷ, 1.86.3].) And yet Croesus claims that Solon’s message is “especially” (μάλιστα) apt to “those who seem to themselves to be prosperous” (τοὺς παρὰ σφίσι αὐτοῖσι ὀλβίους δοκέοντας εἶναι). While Solon bears a message applicable to all humans, Croesus argues, it is persons like Croesus himself, who are mistaken about the level of their own prosperousness, who should pay special heed to Solon’s words. Given his recent defeat and capture by Cyrus and his own impending death on the pyre, Croesus now realizes that earlier he was indeed mistaken about how prosperous, how ὄλβιος, he was. In 1.86, therefore, Croesus has changed his opinion dramatically concerning what Solon told him in their conversation in 1.29–33. Croesus now regards the warnings that Solon tried to convey to him as almost heaven-

sent, and he admits that he did not understand until now Solon’s message that human “prosperity” (olbos) is transitory and subject to the whims of the gods. All of Croesus’ praise of Solon in 1.86, however, could apply solely Page 53 → to the generalizing statements on human prosperity that Solon makes in the second half (1.32) of his response to Croesus in 1.29–33. Croesus makes no allusion whatsoever in 1.86 to the first half of Solon’s response in 1.29–33; that is, the stories about Tellus (1.30.3–5), and about Cleobis and Biton (1.31). We saw above how little interest Croesus showed regarding these stories when he was actually engaged in his conversation with Solon in 1.29–33. Now in 1.86, although he offers Cyrus a brief synopsis of this earlier conversation, Croesus nevertheless makes no mention of these two stories. The effect that Solon’s Tellus logos and his Cleobis and Biton logos had on Croesus appears negligible.

Conclusion When Solon narrates the Tellus (1.30.4–5) and Cleobis and Biton (1.31) logoi to Croesus, Herodotus casts Solon in the role of a “rival inquirer” in order to engage in a metanarrative dialogue with readers about the use and misuse of historical inquiry. Not surprisingly, perhaps, the internal narratee Croesus, who occupies a space inside the narrative, does not recognize the metanarrative (i.e., “beyond the narrative”) function of Solon’s stories. In many ways, it is Herodotus’ readers, the external narratees, who are the real audience for Solon’s two logoi. Only readers can appreciate how much Solon—whether in his treatment of sources, or in his appeal to visual evidence—resembles Herodotus as an inquirer. In addition, only readers can appreciate the novelty of Solon’s giving his two accounts of past events in direct discourse, the first character in the Histories to do this other than the Herodotean narrator. Nevertheless, it is to his internal audience Croesus that Solon directs his two stories in 1.30.3–31. Solon’s overall failure to pique Croesus’ interest (both in 1.29–33 and in 1.86) in the historical events he describes in these stories—let alone to convince Croesus that the information he is presenting about Tellus and about Cleobis and Biton is reliable—ultimately sets Solon apart from Herodotus as an inquirer. Through the figure of Solon, Herodotus is able to involve readers in a discussion concerning when an inquirer should present the results of his research to an audience and when he should not. The right audience for Solon’s historiographical stories, as it turns out, is Herodotus’ own readers and not the wealthy king Croesus, who would probably much prefer the flattery (ὑποθωπεύσας) that Solon eschews to the historical truth (τῷ ἐόντι) that Solon actually uses (χρησάμενος) (1.30.3). 1. Hellmann 1934, 38; Stahl 1975, 5, 7, 9; Redfield 1985, 102; Shapiro 1994, 350n.5; Moles 1996, 263–65; 2002, 36; Romm 1998, 61; Montiglio 2005, 133–36; Clarke 2008, 1–5. For further discussion and bibliography, see Pelling 2006a, 143n.6, 145n.15. 2. Benardete 1969, 16; Drexler 1972, 25–26; Dewald 1998a, 600; Friedman 2006, 167; Pelling 2006b, 105. 3. Shapiro 1996; Pelling 2006a. 4. On the different types of analepses, see Genette 1980, 40, 45, 48–67; de Jong, Nünlist, and Bowie 2004, xv. 5. Regarding to eon, Cartledge and Greenwood 2002, 354 state that “the neuter participle eon denotes what exists in actual fact.” 6. According to Mourelatos 1970, 67, 74, Parmenides, for his part, treats ἀληθείη (“truth”) and τὸ ἐόν (“reality/truth”) interchangeably. 7. Introduction, 9–11. 8. Cf. Darbo-Peschanski 1987, 179: “To eon, which in the Histories designates ‘reality,’ does not appear in the technical vocabulary of [Herodotean] inquiry” (To éon, qui dans les Histoires désigne la réalité, n’appartient pas au vocabulaire technique de l’enquête). 9. Olson 2002, 238 translates the phrase ὑμᾶς ὑποθωπεύσας in Aristophanes Acharnians 639 (cf. ὑποθωπεῦσαν in Wasps 610) as “flattering you discreetly.” 10. See Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ὑπό F.III. 11. From a chronological standpoint, it is unlikely—but not entirely impossible—that the encounter between the Athenian statesman Solon and the Lydian king Croesus as described by Herodotus in 1.29–33 ever took place. While Solon’s archonship probably dated to 594/3 BCE, Croesus reigned from 560–46.

Thus, for Solon to have visited Croesus, his visit would have had to have occurred not around the time of his archonship—if that is correctly dated to 594/3—but at some time later in his life. See Miller 1963; Rhodes 1993, 169–70; Asheri 2007a, 99. Plutarch (Solon 27.1) notes that even in antiquity some thinkers rejected the meeting between Solon and Croesus on chronological grounds. 12. Contra Rood 2007, 130 (cf. Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012a, 49), who calls the stories of Tellus (1.30.3–5) and of Cleobis and Biton (1.31) “timeless paradigms.” Similarly, Kurke 2011, 409n.25 refers to these two stories as “historical exempla,” and associates them with “the Sophistic pattern of fable narrative.” Cf. Adrados 1999, 401: “In Herodotus there is an abundance of anecdotes, either purely novellesque or by way of exempla, which in a certain sense are the same as fables (such as those of Tellus and Cleobis and Biton in I 30 ff.).” Somewhat differently, Nagy 1990, 243–49 (cf. Hollmann 2011, 140–42) terms Solon’s words to Croesus in 1.29–33 an ainos, an ambiguous, coded utterance “that carries the right message for those who are qualified and the wrong message or messages for those who are unqualified” (244). 13. On chronology in Herodotus, see Rhodes 2003; Clarke 2008, 191–93; Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012a, 19–29. 14. On the intellectual milieu—oral, as well as literary—of Herodotus, see Thomas 1989, 2000, 2006; Fowler 1996, 2006; cf. West 1985, 304. 15. On Cylon’s failed coup, see Andrewes 1982, 368–69; Thomas 1989, 272–81; Hornblower 1991, 202–10; Rhodes 1993, 79–84; Nenci 1994, 262–66. 16. As Rood 2007, 129. 17. Pisistratus serves as one of the historical anchors for Herodotus’ narrative in the Histories as a whole; as How and Wells 1928b, 38 point out, Herodotus’ “continuous history of Athens begins with Pisistratus.” 18. Lavelle 2005, 12 (cf. Rhodes 2003, 63–64) stresses, however, that in the late fifth century BCE, the information on the Pisistratid tyranny that was available even to a native Athenian like Thucydides appears to have been minimal. 19. Regarding Cylon’s coup, Thomas 1989, 280 maintains that “the whole episode was vastly simplified and distorted by the fifth century. We find very blurred chronology. Herodotus only says the incident occurred ‘before the Peisistratids’. For oral tradition did not record exact chronology, only a rough sequence of associated events, if that.” Cf. Nenci 1994, 266. On the tyranny of Pisistratus and his sons, SancisiWeerdenburg 2000, 96 states: “In the context of the [Pisistratid] tyranny absolute dates, such as references to the archons or the archon-list, or synchronous events are lacking in Herodotos. The logical conclusion here is that the documentation for producing an absolute chronology was available neither to Herodotos, nor to Thucydides.” 20. Eusebius (Arm. 92 Kaerst) dates Cylon’s victory in the Olympic games to the 35th Olympiad (640 BCE), and Thucydides in his own account of the Cylonian affair says that Cylon’s attempt at tyranny occurred in an Olympic year (1.126.5). Assuming that Cylon’s bid for tyranny came after his victory at Olympia, 636 would, therefore, be the earliest date—given the quadrennial nature of the Olympic festival—for Cylon’s failed coup. Some scholars have been unnecessarily troubled by Herodotus’ association of Cylon with Pisistratus in 5.71.2 and have sought to “down-date” Cylon to even as late as the mid-sixth century BCE in order to locate Cylon closer to the reign of Pisistratus. See, for example, Hornblower 1991, 204: “The main difficulty with this dating [i.e., the 630s for Cylon’s coup] has always been felt to be Hdt.’s statement that Kylon was ‘before the time of Pisistratus’ (v.71.2). If we had no other evidence we would naturally understand this to mean ‘shortly before the time of Pisistratus’. The expression is vague, but however loosely we take it, it remains surprising (on the orthodox dating) that Hdt. did not say ‘before the time of Solon’ [rather than ‘of Pisistratus’].” Hornblower himself (205) does opt for the traditional seventh-century date for Cylon, but stresses nevertheless that “Hdt.’s formulation at v.71.2 remains odd on this view.” Contra Rhodes 1993, 82: “However, for Herodotus, who says nothing of Draco and little of Solon, πρὸ τῆς Πεισιστράτου ἡλικίης ἐγένετο need not exclude a date in the seventh century [for Cylon].” 21. Cf. Sansone 1991, 121: “Because of the absence of any evidence that might corroborate Herodotus’ account, we have no way of knowing whether Tellus or Cleobis and Biton are historical figures. What is reasonably clear, however, is that Herodotus and, presumably, his audience thought of these individuals as being more or less contemporary with Solon and Croesus, that is to say, as living in the first half of the sixth

century B.C.” 22. Regarding this battle, however, Jacoby 1944, 45n.32 writes: “The date cannot be determined, and was not known to Herodotos either.” Cf. Rood 2007, 129–30: “the fact that Tellus is buried on the site may also convey a general sense of the past, since it contrasts with the procedure for burying the war dead in Athens described at Thucydides 2.34” [emphasis added]. Somewhat similarly, Ober 2009, 74 argues that “Herodotus’ fifth century Athenian readers inhabited neither Croesus’ world nor that of Tellus. They might look back upon ‘Tellus’ world’ with nostalgia, but their lives were lived in different circumstances and according to different plans…” 23. See Andrewes 1982, 372–74. 24. See How and Wells 1928a, 67; Asheri 2007a, 100. 25. By contrast, some scholars seem to understand Solon’s words τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι (1.30.5) as “the neighbors in Eleusis” (i.e., the Eleusinians); thus, these scholars hold that it was the Eleusinians—not the Megarians—whom Tellus and his fellow Athenians were fighting. See Schwahn 1934, 407; Rood 2007, 129. This is possible, but if Herodotus had meant Solon to indicate that the Athenians’ foes in the battle were Eleusinians, Herodotus would have presumably made the phrase ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι attributive (e.g., τοὺς ἀστυγείτονας τοὺς ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι = “the neighbors in Eleusis”). 26. On Solon in his roles of poet, lawgiver, and sage, see Branscome 2013. 27. On Fehling 1989, see further introduction, 7–8. 28. Cf. Luraghi 2001b, 144: “Incidentally, Fehling’s rules work much better under the presupposition that Herodotus was not using source references to deceive his readers. As a deceptive strategy they would be awkward…” On Herodotus’ use of the verb λέγουσι (“they say”) in relation to his sources, see Waterfield 2009, 489–90. 29. Cf. Giangiulio 2001, 137: “…when Herodotus reports local knowledge, explicitly attributing it to the locals, he is not stating how he actually gathered his information, nor is he quoting his sources in a formal sense…[W]hat matters to Herodotus is the local nature of his information, not his individual informants. He tends to think of local information as a tradition, and a unitary one, and to represent it as collective.” 30. Luraghi 2001b, 151, cf. 147 notes that it will be up to Thucydides to take the next step, that is, to question the extent and accuracy of the knowledge that a community has about its past: Thucydides (1.20.2, 6.54.1) criticizes the Athenians’ belief that Pisistratus’ son Hipparchus was tyrant—instead of his elder brother Hippias—when he was killed by Harmodius and Aristogeiton. 31. Asheri 2007a, 100 suggests that Herodotus has Solon mention the battle in which Tellus dies (1.30.5) because the historical Solon had mentioned the battle in one of his (no longer extant) poems. In the encounter between Solon and Croesus (1.29–33), the clearest example of Herodotus adapting one of Solon’s own poems comes in 1.32.2 (Solon’s setting seventy years as the limit for a person’s life), which recalls Solon 27; see Chiasson 1986, 252–53; Lefkowitz 2012, 54; contra Stehle 2006, 105n.71. Chiasson examines the overall influence that Solon’s poetry has on Herodotus’ construction of the Solon-Croesus episode. 32. Contra Miller 1963, 89; Benardete 1969, 132; Arieti 1995, 45. According to Solon, Tellus, at least, “saw” (εἶδε, 1.30.4) all his own grandchildren survive. 33. The bronze column of intertwined serpents still exists in Istanbul—to where it was moved from Delphi by the Roman emperor Constantine in the fourth century CE—and the Tenians’ names are inscribed on the seventh of the serpents’ coils. On this inscription, see Fornara 1983, 59; Meiggs and Lewis 1988, 57–60; cf. How and Wells 1928b, 321–24; Flower and Marincola 2002, 249–50; Asheri 2006, 283–86; Bowie 2007, 171. Although Herodotus does state correctly that the Tenians’ names are to be found on the Serpent Column, other details he gives about the monument are confused: he claims both that the inscription is on the tripod (8.82.1), rather than on the column supporting the tripod, and that the column consists of a threeheaded serpent (9.81.1), rather than of three intertwined serpents. Based on these errors, West 1985, 280–81 concludes that Herodotus may have known of the monument at Delphi not by personal inspection, but only by hearsay. 34. On autopsy (opsis) in Herodotus, see Schepens 1980, 33–93; Lateiner 1989, index s.v. autopsy. 35. Boedeker 2003, 24 notes that “as usual with such deaths in Herodotus, no details are given about how Tellos died; what matters is that he was cut down while fighting well, and was awarded public honor thereafter.” 36. Scholars usually take for granted that Tellus had a tomb; see Gomme 1956, 96; Regenbogen 1965,

382–83; Kurke 1999, 147, cf. 1993, 154; Ober 2009, 73. 37. On the tombs at Marathon, see chapter 4, 163n.16. 38. The suburb alluded to in Thucydides 2.34.5 is probably the Kerameikos; see Hornblower 1991, 294. 39. See Weber 1927; Asheri 2007a, 100. 40. In addition to identifying Cleobis and Biton’s mother as a priestess (Mor. 108 F), Plutarch (fr. 133 Sandbach) also records her name: Cydippe. 41. Asheri 2007a, 101 (cf. Polignac 1995, 41–42) writes: “The festival of Hera at Argos (‘Heraia’, also known as ‘Hekatombaia’) was the main annual celebration of the patron-goddess of the city. It included a procession to the temple, sacrifices, and athletic and musical contests, lasting probably for three days.” 42. Cf. von Fritz 1967b, 218: “Thus there can be no doubt that the Tellus story and Cleobis and Biton story have an entirely different intellectual origin” (So kann kein Zweifel sein, daß die Tellosgeschichte und die Kleobis- und Bitongeschichte einen ganz verschiedenen geistigen Ursprung haben). For von Fritz (216–19), the Tellus story is more in the spirit of Solon’s own poetry; the Cleobis and Biton story more in the spirit of lyric and tragedy. Scholars have proposed, moreover, that the particular story of Cleobis and Biton—given the Argive dedication of statues of these two brothers at Delphi (as noted in Herodotus 1.31.5)—has Delphic origins; see Regenbogen 1965, 385–89; Flower 1991, 62. 43. A pair of statues found in the excavations at Delphi has been widely identified by scholars as the very statues mentioned by the Herodotean Solon in 1.31.5; on the identification of these statues, see Sansone 1991; Chiasson 2005, 41n.1. Harrison 2000, 35n.11 suggests, however, that the story of Cleobis and Biton as reported by Herodotus in 1.31 actually grew out of the existence of these statues at Delphi. 44. According to Sansone 1991, 128, “Herodotus had almost certainly seen these statues [of Cleobis and Biton] for himself.” 45. On the connections between the story of Arion (1.23–24) and the Solon-Croesus episode (1.29–33), see further Branscome 2013. 46. Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ἐπιστρεφέως 2 (citing 1.30.4), “earnestly, vehemently.” Given Croesus’ disappointment that he did not receive first prize in prosperousness, Powell’s (1938, s.v.) translation of ἐπιστρεφέως in 1.30.4 as “eagerly” is of too positive a register. 47. Cf. Long 1987, 73: “Herodotus says that Solon gave Croesus a turn (1.31.1: προετρέψατο)…Croesus…is thrown into consternation by Solon’s answer ‘Tellus the Athenian’” [emphasis added]. 48. Sheets 1993, 18 translates the words ὡς δὲ τὰ κατὰ τὸν Τέλλον προετρέψατο ὁ Σόλων τὸν Κροῖσον εἴπας πολλά τε καὶ ὄλβια in 1.31.1 as “after Solon had persuaded [προετρέψατο] Croesus with respect to the facts about Tellos by recounting his many blessings” [emphasis added]. pace Sheets, in exactly what is Croesus persuaded here? That Tellus really is more olbios than Croesus himself? Similarly unhelpful are Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. προτρέπω II., who abbreviate the Greek of 1.31.1 as ὡς…προετρέψατο ὁ Σόλων τὸν Κροῖσον εἴπας…ἐπειρώτα…and translate it “as Solon’s story led Croesus on, he asked.” Stein’s 1962a, 37 suggestion that we are to understand the infinitive ἐπειρωτᾶν (“to ask”) after προετρέψατο in 1.31.1 is attractive, but with the finite verb ἐπειρώτα already appearing in the independent clause, this infinitive would seem redundant. 49. Cf. Crane 1996, 73: “Kroisos, of course, could not care less whether Solon placed Tellos first, second, or nowhere—he is dismayed that he himself, with all of his wealth and power, does not register as first or second and presses Solon to explain his criteria.” 50. Pace Pelling 2006a, 147, Croesus is not merely “bemused” when Solon names first Tellus, then Cleobis and Biton as most olbios. Scholars have long recognized that with the word ὄλβιος in 1.29–33 Croesus seems to understand one thing and Solon seems to understand another; see de Heer 1969, 71–72; Nagy 1990, 244; Crane 1996; contra Pelling 153. 51. On the meaning of the verb ἐλπίζειν in Herodotus, see chapter 5, 217. 52. “Righteous indignation” is Pelling’s 2006a, 150 translation for νέμεσις in 1.34.1. 53. Pelling 2006a, 143n.5 notes the verbal “echo” of 1.32.9 and the word πρόρριζος in 3.40.3: Amasis warns Polycrates, “for I do not know—nor have I yet heard by report—of anyone who, while being lucky in all things, has not finally ended his life badly, down to the roots” (οὐδένα γάρ κω λόγῳ οἶδα ἀκούσας ὅστις ἐς τέλος οὐ κακῶς ἐτελεύτησε πρόρριζος, εὐτυχέων τὰ πάντα). 54. Cf. Shapiro 1996, 351n.18: “The word προρρίζους at 1.32.9…implies that the loss of happiness includes

the loss of one’s descendants.” The loss of descendants is certainly involved in the third and last appearance of the word πρόρριζος in the Histories (after 1.32.9 and 3.40.3): in 6.86δ Leotychides notes that the oathbreaking Glaucus would suffer retribution by having his family line in Sparta completely exterminated “down to the roots” (πρόρριζος). 55. On the wise adviser motif in Herodotus, see Lattimore 1939; Bischoff 1965; Immerwahr 1966, 72–75; Asheri 2007a, 96. For Lattimore (25), who divides wise advisers in the Histories into two categories, “tragic warners” and “practical advisers,” Solon is a “tragic warner.” Lattimore argues that “the practical adviser is generally distinguished from the tragic warner in that his advice is not a mere negation of action, but a method of coping with a given situation.” Cf. Immerwahr 1966, 74–75: “The effect of the advice given depends on whether or not it is accepted: usually, but not always, general advice is rejected, and thus it becomes a warning which has a dramatic effect within the course of the narrative. In this case, the wise adviser appears as the warner who shows up the folly of the ruler. Specific advice, on the other hand, is usually accepted, so that the adviser then appears as the wise counselor.” 56. On the Herodotean Solon’s idea of “dying well,” Shapiro 1996, 352 writes: “Solon’s examples [of Tellus and of Cleobis and Biton] show that to ‘end life well’ means to die at one’s acme, in the presence of family and friends, and to receive permanent honor after one’s death. In addition, the most completely happy man will have lived a full and happy life before this great and final achievement, and will leave descendants behind him. This is Solon’s definition of a happy, human life, considering the uncertain circumstances under which men live.” 57. Contra Pelling 2006a, 157, who argues that with the expression σὺν θεῷ in 1.86.3 Croesus dismisses Solon’s wisdom as more the product of divine inspiration than of reasoned insight. 58. On the “epiphanic” quality of Croesus’ calling on Solon in 1.86.3, see Kurke 1999, 157–59; cf. Pelling 2006a, 157. 59. Of the twenty-one occurrences of the expression ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν in the Histories, all refer to conversations between human beings, rather than, say, to a divine visitation. 60. As Kurke 1999, 159; cf. Legrand 1946, 87; Pelling 2006a, 157. 61. Cf. Pelling 2006a, 157: Croesus’ reference to μεγάλων χρημάτων in 1.86.4 suggests the wealth that “had once been Croesus’ hallmark.” 62. Cf. Long 1987, 110: “The present passage contains an interesting restatement by Herodotus of his own narrative, an author’s self-synopsis.” 63. One difference, then, between Croesus’ description in 1.86.5 of his conversation with Solon and Herodotus’ description in 1.29–33 is in the abbreviated scope of Croesus’ description. Cf. Arieti 1995, 102: in 1.86.5 “Croesus tells only the parts of the story that moved him.” Another difference between the two descriptions, however, comes in 1.86.5 both with the word ἀποφλαυρίσειε (“make light of”) and with the phrase οἷα δὴ εἶπας. Pelling 2006a, 157–58n. 62, 158 argues convincingly that the subject of the phrase οἷα δὴ εἶπας has to be Croesus, not Solon, and Pelling suggests a translation for οἷα δὴ εἶπας in 1.86.5 as “that was how Croesus put it.” By Pelling’s reading, Herodotus thus uses the phrase οἷα δὴ εἶπας in 1.86.5 to qualify the verb ἀποφλαυρίσειε and to indicate that it is only Croesus—and not the Herodotean narrator—who thinks that Solon rather contemptuously, perhaps, “made light of” Croesus’ riches back in 1.29–33.

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CHAPTER 2 The “struggle” of Demaratus In a series of episodes about the exiled Spartan king Demaratus (7.101–105, 7.209, 7.234–37), Herodotus presents another example of a rival inquirer who, like Solon (1.29–33), ultimately fails because he is unable to convince his audience. Demaratus’ audience is the Persian king Xerxes, to whom he acts as an adviser, and by whom his words are repeatedly rejected. Demaratus becomes so upset at the repeated rejection of his advice that he even admits to Xerxes that it is a “struggle” (ἀγών) to tell him the truth (7.209.2). Finally, Demaratus is so disillusioned that he dissuades the Athenian exile Dicaeus from reporting to Xerxes a portent relating to the Eleusinian Mysteries (8.65). Herodotus characterizes Demaratus differently from Solon, however, because while Solon's accounts focus on past events, Demaratus’ accounts focus on ethnological information. Just as Solon is presented as an inferior historian to Herodotus because Croesus does not understand his accounts of past events, Demaratus is presented as an inferior ethnologer to Herodotus because Xerxes does not understand his accounts of foreign customs.1 Page 55 → The episodes in which Demaratus advises Xerxes are united by the ethnological content of the advice Demaratus gives Xerxes: all the advice concerns either Greek or, more commonly, Lacedaemonian customs. Thus, Herodotus portrays Demaratus as engaging in the same type of ethnology that Herodotus does himself. With Demaratus’ interactions with Xerxes, Herodotus explores the difficulty an inquirer can have in convincing an audience that seemingly incredible ethnologic details are true. As a purveyor of such ethnologic information himself, Herodotus relates to, even sympathizes with, Demaratus’ efforts to convince Xerxes. In the end, however, Demaratus is largely unsuccessful in persuading the intellectually arrogant Xerxes to accept the validity of the ethnologic information he provides, no matter how much Herodotus’ own narrative continually corroborates the claims that Demaratus makes, for example, about the bravery and fighting prowess that the Lacedaemonians will display at Thermopylae.

Nomos is Master (7.101–105) The failure of Demaratus to persuade Xerxes with his ethnological accounts can be seen in their conversation in 7.101–105, the longest exchange between Demaratus and Xerxes in the Histories. In this episode, Demaratus supplies Xerxes with information about the customs of the Greeks. Since the exiled Spartan king Demaratus is Greek himself, readers might expect the Persian Xerxes to trust his Greek ethnologic information.2 Instead, Xerxes mocks Demaratus twice in this episode, rejecting his account thoroughly. In 7.101–105 Xerxes desires to find out from Demaratus whether any Greeks will resist the impending Persian invasion of Greece. Xerxes’ army is at Doriscus in 480 BCE, when Xerxes summons Demaratus and asks a question of him. Δημάρητε, νῦν μοι σὲ ἡδύ τι ἐστὶ εἰρέσθαι τὰ θέλω. σὺ εἶς Ἕλλην τε, καὶ ὡς ἐγὼ πυνθάνομαι σεῦ τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων τῶν ἐμοὶ ἐς λόγους ἀπικνεομένων, πόλιος οὔτ’ ἐλαχίστης οὔτ’ ἀσθενεστάτης. νῦν ὦν μοι τόδε φράσον, εἰ Ἕλληνες ὑπομενέουσι χεῖρας ἐμοὶ ἀνταειρόμενοι. οὐ γάρ, ὡς ἐγὼ δοκέω, οὐδ’ εἰ πάντες Ἕλληνες καὶ οἱ λοιποὶ οἱ πρὸς ἑσπέρης οἰκέοντες ἄνθρωποι συλλεχθείησαν, οὐκ Page 56 → ἀξιόμαχοί εἰσι ἐμὲ ἐπιόντα ὑπομεῖναι, μὴ ἐόντες ἄρθμιοι. ἐθέλω μέντοι καὶ τὸ ἀπὸ σεῦ, ὁκοῖόν τι λέγεις περὶ αὐτῶν, πυθέσθαι. [Demaratus, now it is a pleasing thing for me to ask you what I want [to ask]. You are a Greek and [you come], as I learn both from you and from all the other Greeks who have spoken to me, from a state that is neither smallest nor weakest [among Greek states]. So now tell me this, whether Greeks will stand their ground while they raise their hands against me. For, as I think, not even if all Greeks

and the rest of the men who live in the west were collected together, they are not worthy of fighting and resisting me when I attack, if they [are] not on good terms with one another. But I want to learn also your [opinion], what sort of thing you say about them.] (7.101.1–3)

This passage is striking in two ways. First, as so often with Herodotean kings, Xerxes here displays an inquisitive nature.3 He twice applies to himself the verb πυνθάνεσθαι (“learn [by inquiry]”): πυνθάνομαι (7.101.1), πυθέσθαι (7.101.3). Xerxes thus vaguely resembles Herodotus the inquirer himself, both in his desire to learn, and in his enterprise in seeking information from others.4 Second, the words Herodotus ascribes to Xerxes in the aforementioned passage set the stage for Demaratus’ ethnologic comments to follow. Xerxes, as it were, formally introduces to Herodotus’ readers Demaratus in the latter's role as an ethnologer; indeed, through Xerxes’ words, Demaratus has his credentials as an ethnologer of Greece laid before the reader: Demaratus is himself a Greek, and he is from a powerful and important Greek polis. Xerxes’ questions about the Greeks’ willingness and readiness to fight the invading Persians invite Demaratus to discourse, in particular, on the martial side of Greek culture. And the last question Xerxes asks—namely, “what sort of thing” (ὁκοῖον) Demaratus has to say about the Greeks—serves as a blanket invitation for Demaratus to describe his countrymen in whatever way he sees fit. Demaratus prefaces his response to Xerxes by broaching the subject of “truth.” He asks Xerxes: “King, should I use truth with regard to you or pleasure?” Page 57 → (Βασιλεῦ, κότερα ἀληθείῃ χρήσωμαι πρὸς σὲ ἢ ἡδονῇ, 7.101.3). Demaratus expresses his anxiety here that the truth about the Greeks, against whom Xerxes is set to march, will not please the Persian king. According to Herodotus, however, Xerxes “urged [Demaratus] to use the truth, saying that he would have nothing more unpleasant than before [if he did so]” (μιν ἀληθείῃ χρήσασθαι ἐκέλευε, φὰς οὐδέν οἱ ἀηδέστερον ἔσεσθαι ἢ πρότερον ἦν). Xerxes thus assures Demaratus that he will not suffer any punishment by order of the King for speaking the truth. With this assurance, Demaratus launches into an ethnologic exposition on Greek national character (7.102.1), before he turns specifically to the Lacedaemonians (7.102.2–3). Nevertheless, in 7.102.1, Demaratus himself brings up the issue of truth once again and contrasts it with lying (ψευδόμενος). He reminds Xerxes that it is Xerxes himself who is compelling him to tell the truth. Fear of punishment makes Demaratus still hesitant to speak openly to the king.5 Βασιλεῦ, ἐπειδὴ ἀληθείῃ διαχρήσασθαι πάντως κελεύεις ταῦτα λέγοντα τὰ μὴ ψευδόμενός τις ὕστερον ὑπὸ σεῦ ἁλώσεται, τῇ Ἑλλάδι πενίη μὲν αἰεί κοτε σύντροφός ἐστι, ἀρετὴ δὲ ἔπακτός ἐστι, ἀπό τε σοφίης κατεργασμένη καὶ νόμου ἰσχυροῦ· τῇ διαχρεωμένη ἡ Ἑλλὰς τήν τε πενίην ἀπαμύνεται καὶ τὴν δεσποσύνην. [King, since you order that I use the truth entirely, while I say those things [about] which I will not be caught by you later speaking falsely, poverty has always at any time been indigenous to Greece, but courage is acquired, and it is attained through intelligence and strong tradition; using [courage] Greece wards off poverty and despotism.] (7.102.1) In 7.102.1, Demaratus offers an ethnologic sketch of Greece.6 According to Demaratus, Greeks are poor (πενίη), yet brave, and their ἀρετή (“courage, excellence, virtue”) is the product of σοφίη (“intelligence”) and νόμος. Being brave keeps Greeks from becoming overly destitute, however, and bravery helps them stay free from despotism.7 Page 58 → Demaratus draws two contrasts in 7.102.1, between σοφίη and νόμος, on the one hand, and between Greece's indigenous (σύντροφος) poverty and the Greeks’ acquired ἀρετή, on the other.8 With both contrasts, Demaratus engages in the debate over φύσις (“nature”) and νόμος, which was so important in fifth-century thought, especially among the Sophists. Here, Demaratus is again similar to Herodotus in his discourse, since Herodotus is also

concerned with physis and nomos.9 In addition, Demaratus’ emphasis on the poor quality of Greece's natural resources and on the invigorating effect that the rocky land of Greece had on its inhabitants reflects Herodotus’ interest in “hard” and “soft” peoples; this interest is itself an extension of the environmental determinism that informs the works of the medical writers.10 Thus, Demaratus’ ethnologic discourse, as depicted by Herodotus, displays the fruits of contemporary scientific thinking. The presence of the word νόμος stands out in 7.102.1, but its exact significance in this passage is not readily apparent. What does Demaratus mean by saying that Greeks use σοφίη and νόμος ἰσχυρός to gain ἀρετή? According to Liddell and Scott 1968 (s.v. νόμος), the basic meaning of νόμος is “that which is in habitual practice, use or possession”; the most common extended meanings are then “custom” and “law.” Or, as Kurt Raaflaub (2004, 233) puts it, the concept of νόμος “encompass[es] broadly a variety of notions from way of life, custom, and tradition to unwritten and written law.”11 It is as “law” that most commentators translate νόμος in 7.102.1.12 But Page 59 → given the immediate context, “law” seems a somewhat misleading translation.13 Herodotus calls the νόμος to which Demaratus refers ἰσχυρός (“strong, powerful, severe”).14 This adjective appears equally well suited for a strong “custom” or “tradition” (νόμος), especially a tradition of social behavior that puts a high value on courage or ἀρετή.15 Perhaps, then, we should see in the νόμος in 7.102.1 not a formal, institutionalized law, but rather a commonly held custom or tradition. Demaratus is saying, then, that intelligence (σοφίη) and a powerful, socially constructed custom/tradition of courageous behavior foster courage (ἀρετή) in Greeks. Demaratus’ last ethnologic comment on the Greeks (7.102.1), in which he asserts that Greeks use courage (ἀρετή) to ward off poverty and despotism (δεσποσύνη), is thematically linked to his forthcoming comments on the Lacedaemonians (7.102.2–3), where the topic of despotism reappears in a slightly altered form. αἰνέω μέν νυν πάντας τοὺς Ἕλληνας τοὺς περὶ ἐκείνους τοὺς Δωρικοὺς χώρους οἰκημένους, ἔρχομαι δὲ λέξων οὐ περὶ πάντων τούσδε τοὺς λόγους, ἀλλὰ περὶ Λακεδαιμονίων μούνων, πρῶτα μὲν ὅτι οὐκ ἔστι ὅκως κοτὲ σοὺς δέξονται λόγους δουλοσύνην φέροντας τῇ ῾Ελλάδι, αὖτις δὲ ὡς ἀντιώσονταί τοι ἐς μάχην καὶ ἢν οἱ ἄλλοι Ἕλληνες πάντες τὰ σὰ φρονέωσι. ἀριθμοῦ δὲ πέρι μὴ πύθῃ ὅσοι τινὲς ἐόντες ταῦτα ποιέειν οἷοί τέ εἰσι· ἤν τε γὰρ τύχωσι ἐξεστρατευμένοι χίλιοι, οὗτοι μαχήσονταί τοι, ἤν τε ἐλάσσονες τούτων, ἤν τε καὶ πλεῦνες. [Now I praise all the Greeks who live in those Dorian lands, but I am going to say the following words not about all, but about Lacedaemonians alone: first, that there is no way that they will ever accept your words if [the words] bring slavery to Greece; and second, that they will resist you in battle even if all the rest of the Greeks take your side. As to their number, do not inquire how many they are Page 60 → who are able to do these things; for if a thousand happen to march out, whether less than this or more, they will fight you.] (7.102.2–3) Although Demaratus has good things to say about Greeks in general in 7.102.1, he reserves special praise (αἰνέω) for “all the Greeks who live in those Dorian lands” (πάντας τοὺς Ἕλληνας τοὺς περὶ ἐκείνους τοὺς Δωρικοὺς χώρους οἰκημένους, 7.102.2). By “those Dorian lands” (ἐκείνους τοὺς Δωρικοὺς χώρους), Demaratus presumably means the Peloponnese in particular, especially those parts of the Peloponnese controlled by Sparta.16 Even among those Dorians, moreover, Demaratus proceeds to single out the Lacedaemonians for special ethnologic comment. In broad strokes, Demaratus paints a picture of the Lacedaemonians as free, resolute, and courageous people (7.102.2–3).17 The first thing Demaratus says about the Lacedaemonians is that they will never accept the “slavery” (δουλοσύνην) that Xerxes intends to impose on Greece. Slavery and despotism are intimately connected in Greek thought: the word for a “master” (δεσπότης) is also the word for an “absolute ruler” or “despot.”18 Thus, Demaratus implies that the Lacedaemonians will never accept Xerxes as their δεσπότης (“master”); they will never be Xerxes’ slaves. Demaratus assures Xerxes, moreover, that the Lacedaemonians will oppose him, even if all the other Greeks side with Persia. He concludes by cautioning Xerxes not to worry about how numerous or how few the Lacedaemonians may be: no matter their number they will fight him (7.102.3).

Xerxes’ initial reaction to the ethnology Demaratus gives in 7.102.1–3 is about as negative as one could imagine: he laughs at it. The response Xerxes gives (7.103.1–5) can conveniently be divided into three parts. Herodotus narrates the first third of the response (7.103.1–2) in the following way. Page 61 → ταῦτα ἀκούσας Ξέρξης γελάσας ἔφη· Δημάρητε, οἷον ἐφθέγξαο ἔπος, ἄνδρας χιλίους στρατιῇ τοσῇδε μαχήσεσθαι. ἄγε, εἰπέ μοι, σὺ φὴς τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν βασιλεὺς αὐτὸς γενέσθαι. σὺ ὦν ἐθελήσεις αὐτίκα μάλα πρὸς ἄνδρας δέκα μάχεσθαι; καίτοι εἰ τὸ πολιτικὸν ὑμῖν πᾶν ἐστι τοιοῦτον οἷον σὺ διαιρέεις, σέ γε τὸν κείνων βασιλέα πρέπει ηρὸς τὸ διηλήσιον ἀντιτάσσεσθαι κατὰ νόμους τοὺς ὑμετέρους. εἰ γὰρ κείνων ἕκαστος δέκα ἀνδρῶν τῆς στρατιῆς τῆς ἐμῆς ἀντάξιός ἐστι, σὲ δέ γε δίζημαι εἴκοσι εἶναι ἀντάξιον· καὶ οὕτω μὲν ὀρθοῖτ’ ἂν ὁ λόγος παρὰ σεῦ εἰρημένος. εἰ δὲ τοιοῦτοί τε ἐόντες καὶ μεγάθεα τοσοῦτοι, ὅσοι σύ τε καὶ οἳ παρ’ ἐμὲ φοιτῶσι Ἑλλήνων ἐς λόγους, αὐχέετε τοσοῦτον, ὅρα μὴ μάτην κόμπος ὁ λόγος οὗτος εἰρημένος ᾖ. [When Xerxes heard this, he laughed and said, “Demaratus, what words you've uttered, that a thousand men would fight with so great an army as this! Come, tell me: you say that you yourself were king of these men. So will you be willing right now to fight against ten men? And yet if the political [order] for you [Lacedaemonians] is entirely as you judge, as their king you should set yourself [in battle] against twice as many, according to your customs. For if each of those men is the match of ten of the men [in] my army, I look for you to be a match for twenty; and in this way the words you said would be justified. But if you [Lacedaemonians] boast so much while being such men and so large [in stature] as both you and those who have come to speak to me [are], beware that these words [of yours] are not spoken idly as a boast.”] (7.103.1–2) Xerxes’ laughter establishes a mocking, condescending tone that will color his entire response (7.103.1–5).19 Laughter is rarely a good sign in the Histories, and here it indicates, as so often, intellectual arrogance.20 After he laughs at Demaratus’ ethnology, Xerxes begins his response (7.103.1–2) by ridiculing a specific Lacedaemonian custom. In effect, Xerxes tries to use ethnological information already at his disposal to rebut the ethnology that Demaratus has just presented. The custom to which Xerxes refers in 7.103.1–2 is the right of Lacedaemonian kings to receive double portions Page 62 → of food at meals following public sacrifices. Herodotus himself tells of this custom (6.57.1) when he is describing the many rights that Lacedaemonians have conferred on their kings (6.56–58). Xerxes pokes fun at this custom involving double portions by suggesting that Demaratus, as a former king of the Lacedaemonians, should be willing to face in battle double the number of Persians that a regular Lacedaemonian would (7.103.1–2).21 Based on Demaratus’ praise of Lacedaemonian valor, Xerxes apparently assumes that Demaratus is, in effect, arguing that each Lacedaemonian warrior by himself could defeat ten Persians. Thus, Demaratus should fight double that number—or twenty. One wonders how Xerxes knew of this Lacedaemonian custom.22 It appears from the context that he learned of the custom from Demaratus: Xerxes tells Demaratus that he should fight double the number of Persians, if Demaratus “judges” (διαιρέεις, 7.103.1) the political order of the Lacedaemonian state correctly. Herodotus evidently imagines that Demaratus himself in some unrecorded conversation with Xerxes had told the King about the custom of the double portions. If so, then this would be a further (earlier) example of Demaratus relaying information about Lacedaemonian customs to Xerxes. Not only does Xerxes in 7.103.1–2 ridicule the Lacedaemonian custom regarding kings’ portions, but also he criticizes all that Demaratus has just said about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians (7.102.1–3). Xerxes characterizes Demaratus’ words as empty boasting (μάτην κόμπος, 7.103.2); he claims that he has seen and talked to Greeks, including Demaratus, and he cannot believe that such men are better fighters than his own Persians. By assuming that he could tell how well a man could fight just by looking at him or by conversing with him, Xerxes completely misses the point of what Demaratus has said about his countrymen.23 It is the customs (νόμοι) of the Greeks, especially of the Lacedaemonians, that make them so formidable in battle—not their appearance, stature, or individual personalities. As we have seen, it is their customs that instill courage (ἀρετή) in the Greeks. Xerxes

does not fully appreciate the power that νόμοι, especially νόμοι foreign to him, can have over a people's conduct, whether in battle or elsewhere.24 Page 63 → In the second third of his response (7.103.3–4), Xerxes tries to convince Demaratus that the Lacedaemonians, under their present form of government, could never withstand the onslaught of the vast Persian army. He asks Demaratus to look at the matter “with all likelihood” (παντὶ τῷ οἰκότι) (7.103.3) in mind. κῶς ἂν δυναίατο χίλιοι ἢ καὶ μύριοι ἢ καὶ πεντακισμύριοι, ἐόντες γε ἐλεύθεροι πάντες ὁμοίως καὶ μὴ ὑπ’ ἑνὸς ἀρχόμενοι, στρατῷ τοσῷδε ἀντιστῆναι; ἐπεί τοι πλεῦνες περὶ ἕνα ἕκαστον γινόμεθα ἢ χίλιοι, ἐόντων ἐκείνων πέντε χιλιάδων. ὑπὸ μὲν γὰρ ἑνὸς ἀρχόμενοι κατὰ τρόπον τὸν ἡμέτερον γενοίατ’ ἂν δειμαίνοντες τοῦτον καὶ παρὰ τὴν ἑωυτῶν φύσιν ἀμείνονες καὶ ἴοιεν ἀναγκαζόμενοι μάστιγι ἐς πλεῦνας ἐλάσσονες ἐόντες· ἀνειμένοι δὲ ἐς τὸ ἐλεύθερον οὐκ ἂν ποιέοιεν τούτων οὐδέτερα. [How could a thousand or even ten thousand or even fifty thousand, if they were all equally free and not ruled by one man, resist so large an army as this? If those men [of yours] are five thousand [in number], we are more than a thousand to each one. For if they were ruled by one man in our manner, they could, out of fear of this man, become braver than their own nature, and could go, forced by a whip, against more men, although they were fewer. But if they are allowed to be free, they could do neither of these things.] (7.103.3–4) Whereas in the first third of his response (7.103.1–2) Xerxes cites a Lacedaemonian custom that (supposedly) contradicts Demaratus’ assertions about his countrymen, in this second third, he cites a Persian custom for the same purpose. Once again, then, Xerxes employs ethnologic information as a rhetorical weapon against Demaratus’ own ethnology. In support of his argument, Xerxes identifies a τρόπος of the Persians—namely, “being ruled by one man” (ὑπ’ ἑνὸς ἀρχόμενοι, 7.103.4) or monarchy. Herodotus himself occasionally uses the word τρόπος (“way, manner, character, custom”) as a substitute for the word νόμος, when referring to a particular “custom” that a people possesses.25 With τρόπος, then, Xerxes cites some ethnologic evidence from his own culture in an attempt to refute Demaratus’ claims about the Lacedaemonians. Xerxes says that if the Lacedaemonians were ruled by one man “in our manner” or “according Page 64 → to our custom” (κατὰ τρόπον τὸν ἡμέτερον, 7.103.4), they might be able to reach a level of bravery sufficient to do battle with the far more numerous Persians.26 Fear (δειμαίνοντες) of such a monarch, argues Xerxes, would drive the Lacedaemonians, as it does the Persians, to rise above their nature (φύσις) and fight more courageously than they otherwise would (7.103.4). The physical manifestation of the coercive power of the Persian king is the whip (μάστιξ), which Xerxes says would force (ἀναγκαζόμενοι) the Lacedaemonians to fight with the appropriate intensity.27 Left as a free (ἐλεύθερον) people, however, the Lacedaemonians, in Xerxes’ view, have no hope of standing up to the invading Persians.28 Xerxes turns his attention even more specifically to the Persians in the last third of his response (7.103.4–5). δοκέω δὲ ἔγωγε καὶ ἀνισωθέντας πλήθεϊ χαλεπῶς ἂν Ἕλληνας Πέρσῃσι μούνοισι μάχεσθαι. ἀλλὰ παρ’ ἡμῖν μὲν μούνοισι τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ σὺ λέγεις, ἔστι γε μέντοι οὐ πολλὸν ἀλλὰ σπάνιον· εἰσὶ γὰρ Περσέων τῶν ἐμῶν αἰχμοφόρων οἳ ἐθελήσουσι Ἑλλήνων ἀνδράσι τρισὶ ὁμοῦ μάχεσθαι· τῶν σὺ ἐὼν ἄπειρος πολλὰ φλυηρέεις. [But I think that even if Greeks were made equal in number [to our forces] they would have a hard time fighting Persians by themselves. No indeed: that which you say [about the Lacedaemonians applies] to us alone, but it is not common [even among us] but rare; for of the Persians there are those of my spear-bearers who will be willing to fight three Greeks together. Since you are ignorant of these men, you speak a lot of nonsense.] (7.103.4–5) Among all the peoples in his army, Xerxes reserves special praise for the Persians as warriors, just as Demaratus

praises the mettle of the Lacedaemonians above that of all other Greeks. Xerxes contends that what Demaratus says about the Lacedaemonians (τοῦτο…τὸ σὺ λέγεις) can, in effect, be applied to the Persians, as well. Even among the Persians, however, the Page 65 → King's spear-bearers are extraordinary, according to Xerxes, in that they are ready to do battle with three Greeks at once.29 This is an example of the marked and general interest that Xerxes—like other Persian kings in the Histories—exhibits in counting things, as is his theorizing about how Greeks would fare in battle if they were of an equal number to the Persians.30 Xerxes concludes his response by noting that since Demaratus is “unacquainted with” or “ignorant of” (ἄπειρος) how well the Persians, especially the royal spear-bearers, can fight, he is merely “talking nonsense” (φλυηρέεις). Xerxes criticizes Demaratus, ethnologer of the Lacedaemonians, therefore, for ignorance of Persian ethnology. The end of Xerxes’ response, then, is as negative as the beginning: Xerxes first laughs at Demaratus’ words about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians (7.103.1), and then claims Demaratus simply does not know what he is talking about (7.103.5). Demaratus begins his reply (7.104.1–5) with a note of barely concealed indignation. He reiterates that he has told Xerxes the truth only under compulsion. Ὦ βασιλεῦ, ἀρχῆθεν ἠπιστάμην ὅτι ἀληθείῃ χρεώμενος οὐ φίλα τοι ἐρέω. σὺ δὲ ἐπεὶ ἠνάγκασας λέγειν τῶν λόγων τοὺς ἀληθεστάτους, ἔλεγον τὰ κατήκοντα Σπαρτιήτῃσι. [King, from the first I knew that if used the truth I would say things that were not pleasing to you. But since you forced me to tell the truest of accounts, I told you that which concerns the Spartans.] (7.104.1) Demaratus’ “truest of accounts” (τῶν λόγων τοὺς ἀληθεστάτους), rather than being given a fair hearing by Xerxes, has been met with ridicule and contempt. The sympathy that Herodotus feels for his fellow ethnologer Demaratus comes through in this passage. Herodotus himself, especially if he gave public readings from his work, must have occasionally encountered audiences, or certain members of an audience, who were hostile to the results of his researches.31 He can thus relate to what Demaratus is going Page 66 → through with Xerxes, who has proven to be particularly resistant to Demaratus’ Lacedaemonian ethnology. The emphasis on “truth” (ἀληθείη) in the opening words of Demaratus’ latest reply (7.104.1) not only hearkens back to earlier references to truth in Demaratus’ dialogue with Xerxes (7.101.3 bis; 7.102.1), but also links Demaratus with Herodotus himself as an inquirer. At the beginning of the dialogue, Demaratus asks: “King, should I use truth with regard to you or pleasure?” (Βασιλεῦ, κότερα ἀληθείῃ χρήσωμαι πρὸς σὲ ἢ ἡδονῇ, 7.101.3). Demaratus thus asks about “using” (χρήσασθαι) the “truth” (ἀληθείη). We saw in chapter 1 that Herodotus notes as narrator that the rival inquirer Solon also “uses the truth” (τῷ ἐόντι χρησάμενος, 1.30.3); Herodotus employs the same verb χρήσασθαι in reference to Solon (χρησάμενος), but in the passage with Solon, Herodotus expresses “truth” differently, using the expression τὸ ἐόν (“that which is”) rather than ἀληθείη.32 In 7.101.3, however, when Xerxes responds to Demaratus, Xerxes expresses the idea “using the truth” with the same vocabulary that Demaratus has just used (χρήσασθαι + ἀληθείη): Xerxes “urged [Demaratus] to use the truth” (μιν ἀληθείῃ χρήσασθαι ἐκέλευε). Herodotus reports this response of Xerxes, moreover, in indirect discourse. Indeed, in the dialogue (7.101–105) as a whole it is only Demaratus who speaks directly about truth, with the result that he is more intimately associated with truth by Herodotus than is Xerxes.33 When Demaratus next responds, he reminds Xerxes that he has urged Demaratus to “use the truth” (ἀληθείῃ διαχρήσασθαι, 7.102.1). Thus, Demaratus continues to speak of “using the truth,” although he does here substitute the compound verb διαχρήσασθαι for the simple verb χρήσασθαι. In 7.104.1, Demaratus reverts to the formula χρήσασθαι + ἀληθείη: Demaratus asserts that he has up to this point in the conversation been “using the truth” (ἀληθείῃ χρεώμενος), and he even says that he has given “the truest of [all] the accounts” (τῶν λόγων τοὺς ἀληθεστάτους) he could have given. By repeatedly stressing the truthfulness of his ethnologic account, Demaratus takes on much of the Page 67 → appearance of Herodotus as inquirer: Herodotus too on occasion points to the truthfulness of his own account.34 Claims to truth, then, form part of the respective self-presentations both for Demaratus and for Herodotus. Demaratus wants Xerxes to know, just as Herodotus wants his readers to know, that he can expect to hear the truth from him. Another important element in Demaratus’ preface to his reply (7.104.1) is the concept of compulsion.35

Demaratus states that Xerxes has “forced” (ἠνάγκασας) him to speak the truth. At the beginning of the dialogue, Xerxes “urged” or “ordered” (ἐκέλευε) Demaratus to tell the truth (7.101.3), and Demaratus repeats this same word (κελεύεις = “you order”) in his subsequent response to Xerxes (7.102.1). With regard to truth, Demaratus gets to have it both ways. He gets to tell Xerxes the truth about the Lacedaemonians, but he also gets to point the finger at Xerxes as the one forcing him to tell the truth. Herodotus uses a similar tactic in 7.139.1, when he declares that the Athenians were the “saviors of Greece” from the threat of Persian domination. It is “necessity” (ἀναγκαίη) that “forces” (ἐξέργομαι) Herodotus to tell his readers the “truth” (ἀληθές) about the Athenian contribution to the Greek victory.36 The concept of compulsion also appears in Xerxes’ belief that the whip forces men to be braver than their nature (7.103.4). We shall see, in addition, that Demaratus repeatedly addresses the issue of compulsion as he continues with this last response of his in the current dialogue (7.104.1–5). After Demaratus’ initial comments, in which he reminds Xerxes that he forced him to tell the truth about the Lacedaemonians (7.104.1), Demaratus emphasizes in 7.104.2 the objective stance he is taking with regard to his erstwhile countrymen. On the one hand, Demaratus claims that he feels no affection (ἐστοργώς) for the Lacedaemonians, men who robbed him of the kingship and made him a cityless exile (7.104.2).37 On the other hand, he says that he has nothing but affection (στέργειν) for Xerxes’ father, Darius, who received him when he went into exile and gave him a home. Is it “reasonable” (οἰκός), asks Demaratus, for a “sensible” (σώφρονα) man to disregard the kindness Darius showed him? A man who felt such hostility toward the Lacedaemonians and such charity toward Darius, Demaratus Page 68 → implies, would not casually praise the Lacedaemonians, Persia's enemies. Accordingly, whatever Demaratus says about the Lacedaemonians that is the least bit favorable must really be objective fact. “Objectivity” is thus added by Demaratus to his self-presentation. Compulsion reappears as a theme when Demaratus continues in 7.104.3. Demaratus answers Xerxes’ taunt that as a former Lacedaemonian king he should face double the number of opponents in battle by saying: ἐγὼ δὲ οὔτε δέκα ἀνδράσι ὑπίσχομαι οἷός τε εἶναι μάχεσθαι οὔτε δυοῖσι, ἑκών τε εἶναι οὐδ’ ἂν μουνομαχέοιμι. εἰ δὲ ἀναγκαίη εἴη ἢ μέγας τις ὁ ἐποτρύνων ἀγών, μαχοίμην ἂν πάντων ἥδιστα ἑνὶ τούτων τῶν ἀνδρῶν οἳ ῾Ελλήνων ἕκαστός φησι τριῶν ἄξιος εἶναι. [I do not promise to be able to fight either ten men or two, and I would willingly fight not even one. But if necessity or some great struggle were urging me on, I would most gladly fight, of all men, one of those who claim, each of them, to be worthy of three Greeks.] (7.104.3) Demaratus retorts that he is ready to fight only one man at a time, and then only if forced to fight by “necessity” (ἀναγκαίη) or because of a great ἀγών (“struggle”). Rosaria Munson (2001b, 212–13) argues, in fact, that the necessity to which Demaratus is here referring is a defensive war, such as Demaratus’ fellow Greeks are about to embark on once Xerxes and his army leave Doriscus and invade Greece. After all, Demaratus says he would not “willingly” (ἑκών) fight anyone, but he would presumably fight to defend himself. If he were thus compelled to fight, says Demaratus, he would confidently take on one of the best soldiers Persia has to offer—the king's spearbearers—each of whom Xerxes claimed to be equal to three Greeks (7.103.5). Demaratus may intend his statements, however, to apply also to his erstwhile countrymen—the Lacedaemonians. Perhaps, like their exiled king, the Lacedaemonians do not fight “willingly,” but only out of self-defense. The implication of Demaratus’ words, then, is that the Lacedaemonians do not fight wars of aggression or conquest. This purported practice of the Lacedaemonians—whether or not it matches the reality of the Lacedaemonians’ actions—would place them in sharp contrast to their imperialistic opponents: the Persians. Demaratus’ boast that he is ready to fight Persia's finest sets up his final ethnologic comments on the Lacedaemonians (7.104.4–5). In this passage, Demaratus draws an even sharper contrast between the Lacedaemonians and the Persians. Page 69 → ὣς δὲ καὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι κατὰ μὲν ἕνα μαχόμενοι οὐδαμῶν εἰσι κακίονες ἀνδρῶν, ἁλέες δὲ ἄριστοι

ἀνδρῶν ἁπάντων. ἐλεύθεροι γὰρ ἐόντες οὐ πάντα ἐλεύθεροί εἰσι· ἔπεστι γάρ σφι δεσπότης νόμος, τὸν ὑποδειμαίνουσι πολλῷ ἔτι μάλλον ἢ οἱ σοὶ σέ. ποιεῦσι γῶν τὰ ἂν ἐκεῖνος ἀνώγῃ· ἀνώγει δὲ τὠυτὸ αἰεί, οὐκ ἐῶν φεύγειν οὐδὲν πλῆθος ἀνθρώπων ἐκ μάχης, ἀλλὰ μένοντας ἐν τῇ τάξι ἐπικρατέειν ἢ ἀπόλλυσθαι.

[So too the Lacedaemonians, while fighting one-on-one, are inferior to no men, but together they are best of all men. For although they are free, they are not completely free; for there is a master over them, tradition, which they fear far more than your men fear you. They do, at any rate, whatever it commands, and it always commands the same thing: it forbids fleeing from battle [before] any amount of men, but [it orders that] they, while remaining in line, conquer or die.] (7.104.4–5) It is the Lacedaemonians’ νόμος, says Demaratus, that makes them the “best/bravest” (ἄριστοι) warriors in the world. Demaratus’ remark about how much the Lacedaemonians fear this νόμος recalls Xerxes’ own remarks in 7.103.4. Xerxes said in the aforementioned passage that if the Lacedaemonians were ruled by one man they might display greater than natural bravery out of “fear” (δειμαίνοντες) for this man. In 7.104.4, Demaratus uses the same verb of fearing as Xerxes uses in 7.103.4, but in a compound form (ὑποδειμαίνουσι). By arguing that the Lacedaemonians fear their νόμος far more than the Persians fear Xerxes, Demaratus implies that the Lacedaemonians’ νόμος is more powerful than any monarch—even the Great King of Persia. Just as was the case for the νόμος to which Demaratus refers in 7.102.1, “law” is not a wholly satisfactory translation for nomos in 7.104.4. Most scholars, nevertheless, translate νόμος in 7.104.4 as “law.”38 It is possible that with nomos in 7.104.4, Demaratus is referring to actual institutionalized Spartan laws that helped enforce a certain standard of behavior on the part of Lacedaemonians.39 As in 7.102.1, however, it is more likely given the Page 70 → context that nomos in 7.104.4 connotes the ideas of “custom” or “tradition.”40 The custom or tradition in question, moreover, is the severe social stigma Lacedaemonians placed on any citizen who was suspected of cowardice in or for battle.41 It is fear of this stigma that compels Lacedaemonians, according to Demaratus, never to flee from battle, no matter the odds, but, while holding one's place in line, either to conquer or to die (7.104.5). Herodotus elsewhere tells of two Lacedaemonians, who, when accused of cowardice, were met with social humiliation so harsh that it proved unbearable. Both of these Lacedaemonians were survivors of the Battle of Thermopylae. The first, Aristodemus, was one of two men—the other being Eurytus—who suffered from an eye malady, and so were given permission by the Spartan king Leonidas to leave Thermopylae and stay at the nearby village of Alpeni (7.229.1).42 Eurytus had his helot lead him back to the battle, however, where the former was struck down by the Persians. Aristodemus, on the other hand, “failed in his courage” (λιποψυχέοντα), says Herodotus, and stayed safely out of the battle.43 Aristodemus returned to Sparta in “disgrace and dishonor” (ὄνειδός τε…καὶ ἀτιμίην), and his fellow Lacedaemonians treated him as a pariah: none would light a fire for him nor even speak to him, and they gave Aristodemus the nickname “the Trembler” (ὁ τρέσας) (7.231).44 According to Herodotus, Aristodemus later answered the charges against him (7.231) by proving himself to be the “best” (ἄριστος) fighter among the Greeks in the Battle of Plataea (9.71.2). The Lacedaemonians criticized Aristodemus’ bravery at Plataea, however, as suicidal frenzy: under the pressure of the earlier charge of cowardice, Aristodemus “clearly,” said the Lacedaemonians, “wanted to die” (βουλόμενον φανερῶς ἀποθανεῖν, 9.71.3). The second of the Lacedaemonian survivors from Thermopylae was a certain Pantites, who, since he had been sent as Page 71 → a messenger to Thessaly, had escaped death in the battle (7.232). Pantites was so “dishonored” (ἠτίμωτο; cf. ἠτίμωτο, 7.231) upon his return to Sparta, however, that he hanged himself. From the stories of Aristodemus and Pantites, it becomes clear why the Lacedaemonians feared so much the nomos to which Demaratus refers in 7.104.4. Aristodemus and Pantites would rather be dead than face the social opprobrium brought on by their suspected cowardice. The severity of the public censure awaiting anyone labeled a coward helped ensure that Lacedaemonians zealously obeyed the “commands” of their nomos (“custom/tradition”) and remained in the line of battle until they had either defeated their enemy or been killed in the attempt. This is why Demaratus in 7.104.4 calls this particular νόμος a δεσπότης: the fear it engenders exercises a tyranny or despotism over the minds of the Lacedaemonians. Since, as we have seen, despotēs also indicated in Greek a

“master” of slaves, Demaratus suggests that the Lacedaemonians were, in a sense, subservient to this particular nomos, and to the fear of shame it engendered.45 Significantly, Demaratus in 7.104.4 adds to the verb of fearing Xerxes had used in 7.103.4, δειμαίνειν, the prefix ὑπο-, implying that the Lacedaemonians’ fear of their nomos is “secret” or “inward.”46 Somehow the fear that Xerxes’ subjects have for him as their king and “master” seems, by comparison, less extreme. The Lacedaemonians are terrorized by a deep psychological fear of social humiliation; no external threat of punishment that hangs over the Persians can come close to matching this internalized fear of the Lacedaemonians.47 Demaratus’ comments on Lacedaemonian fear and despotism (7.104.4–5) are made in direct response to Xerxes’ earlier comments in 7.103.3–4. In the earlier passage, Xerxes claimed that while free people typically lack bravery, the fear for a monarch drives his subjects to achieve brave deeds.48 Demaratus labels Lacedaemonian “custom/tradition” (νόμος) a “despot/master” (δεσπότης) because he is pointing out to Xerxes that the closest thing the Lacedaemonians have to the despotic power the Persian king exerts Page 72 → over his subjects is the power the Lacedaemonians’ fear of their tradition exerts over them.49 In his effort to speak Xerxes’ language, as it were, Demaratus, in 7.104.4–5, echoes two of the words that Xerxes uses in 7.103.3–4: “fearful” (δειμαίνοντες, 7.103.4; ὑποδειμαίνουσι, 7.104.4) and “free” (τὸ ἐλεύθερον, 7.103.4; ἐλεύθεροι, ἐλεύθεροι, 7.104.4).50 Likewise, Demaratus’ talk of despotism responds to the sense, if not the actual words, of Xerxes’ statements about the value of monarchy and the whip to inspire bravery in men. Demaratus’ reference to despotism also looks back to his own earlier speech in the conversation, where he notes both that “courage” (ἀρετή) keeps “despotism/slavery” (δεσποσύνη) off Greece (7.102.1), and that the Lacedaemonians will never let Xerxes impose “slavery” (δουλοσύνη) on the Greeks (7.102.2). Demaratus ends his current response (7.104.1–5) to Xerxes, the last in this particular conversation, in the same way that he began it: with a note of indignation. At the same time, Demaratus continues to recall his two earlier responses to Xerxes (7.101.3 and 7.102.1–3). σοὶ δὲ εἰ φαίνομαι ταῦτα λέγων φλυηρέειν, ἀλλὰ σιγᾶν θέλω τὸ λοιπόν· νῦν δὲ ἀναγκασθεὶς ἔλεξα. γένοιτο μέντοι κατὰ νόον τοι, βασιλεῦ. [If in saying these things I seem to you to be talking nonsense, I wish to remain silent in the future. As it was, I [only] spoke because I was Page 73 → forced to. But I hope, King, that things turn out according to your design.] (7.104.5) As we saw, at the beginning of his current response in 7.104.1 (“O King, from the first I knew that if I used the truth…but since you forced me…”), Demaratus looked back both to his own initial, one-sentence question of 7.101.3 (“King, should I use truth with regard to you or pleasure?”), and to the opening of his second response to Xerxes in 7.102.1–3 (“King, since you order that I use the truth entirely…”). Now, at the end of his final response in 7.104.5, Demaratus similarly references earlier points in the conversation: he refers both to the idea that Xerxes has forced him to speak (7.102.1, 7.104.1) and to Xerxes’ statement, at the end of his own latest response to Demaratus that the latter is “talking nonsense” (φλυηρέεις, 7.103.5).51 In 7.104.5, Demaratus repeats this word (φλυηρέειν) and retorts that if this is what Xerxes actually thinks, then he would rather not speak to Xerxes in the future. Or, to put it another way, if Xerxes does not value the ethnologic information Demaratus is trying to impart to him, then Demaratus really cannot help him as adviser. All Demaratus can offer is the truth about Lacedaemonian customs; it is up to Xerxes to choose to believe it. Although Demaratus’ impatience with Xerxes becomes evident in 7.104.1 and 7.104.5, his very last words in this conversation are, at least on the surface, supportive: “But I hope, King, that things turn out according to your design (κατὰ νόον τοι)” (7.104.5).52 Demaratus has not forgotten that he is speaking to the Great King of Persia, who holds the former Spartan king's life in his hands; he wisely decides to mitigate his rather presumptuous tone. For all their innocent appearance, however, Demaratus’ words can also be read as subversive. Thanks to Xerxes’ hostile rejection of Demaratus’ Lacedaemonian ethnology, any trust that Demaratus had in Xerxes’ judgment (νόος, literally, “mind”) has likely begun to wane.53 If Xerxes acts according to his νόος, then, Demaratus can rest assured that things will not, in fact, go well for the Persian king.

Xerxes’ behavior at the end of the currect conversation (7.105) confirms Demaratus’ apparent suspicions about the Persian's lack of judgment. Indeed, Xerxes sends Demaratus away with mockery and condescension. Page 74 → ὁ μὲν δὴ ταῦτα ἀμείψατο, Ξέρξης δὲ ἐς γέλωτά τε ἔτρεψε καὶ οὐκ ἐποιήσατο ὀργὴν οὐδεμίαν, ἀλλ’ ἠπίως αὐτὸν ἀπεπέμψατο. [Now [Demaratus] gave this reply, but Xerxes subjected it to ridicule. He did not become angry, but kindly sent him away] (7.105). Just as he laughed (γελάσας, 7.103.1) at Demaratus’ first, prolonged exposition of Greek and Lacedaemonian ethnology in 7.102.1–3, Xerxes makes a laughingstock (ἐς γέλωτά…ἔτρεψε) of Demaratus after he completes his second such exposition in 7.104.1–5. Although Xerxes’ laughter once again indicates his intellectual arrogance, it is not the only indicator of his arrogance in this passage. Herodotus points out that Xerxes did not become angry with Demaratus, implying that this is something paradoxical; normally, we could expect Xerxes, like many another Herodotean king, to be quick to anger.54 Finally, Xerxes dismisses Demaratus “kindly” (ἠπίως), a word that suggests, in Xerxes’ case, the highest note of condescension: he does not become angry with Demaratus because the latter is almost not worthy of anger, so “ignorant” (ἄπειρος, 7.103.5) is Demaratus and so “nonsensical” (φλυηρέεις, 7.103.5) are his pronouncements about the Lacedaemonians.55 With the conversation between Demaratus and Xerxes in 7.101–105, then, Herodotus lays the groundwork for several features that will recur in Demaratus’ dealings with Xerxes in the Histories. The passage establishes the theme of Demaratus as an ethnologer of the Lacedaemonians who is disappointed in his attempts to convince Xerxes to trust the ethnologic information that Demaratus relates to him. Xerxes, too, assumes a familiar role in 7.101–105 as the intellectually arrogant king, blind to truth, who cannot understand foreign customs (νόμοι).56 In 7.101–105 Herodotus establishes the connection, moreover, between himself and Demaratus: it is revealed that they share an interest not only in ethnology, but also in reporting the Page 75 → truth. The sympathy that Herodotus feels for Demaratus’ growing frustration with his futile attempts to convince Xerxes of ethnologic truths begins to be developed in 7.101–105, as well. This frustration on Demaratus’ part finds its most emphatic expression in 7.209, his next dialogue with Xerxes.

Laughing at Nomos (7.209) When the Persian army has progressed in its march through Greece as far south as Thermopylae, Xerxes sends for Demaratus once more and asks him to explain the behavior of certain Lacedaemonians stationed at the pass (7.209). Xerxes’ scout has reported this behavior to Xerxes, and the Persian king has found the Lacedaemonians’ behavior “laughable” (7.209.1). Not only does Demaratus explain the significance of the custom observed by the scout—namely, the Lacedaemonians’ combing their hair before battle—but Demaratus also predicts that if the Persians should defeat the Lacedaemonians in the war as a whole, no other Greeks would resist them. In the end, Xerxes does not believe Demaratus’ ethnologic information and advice in 7.209 any more than he did in 7.101–105. Herodotus continues to explore in 7.209, therefore, Demaratus’ inability to persuade Xerxes and the Spartan's mounting frustration with Xerxes as a result of this inability. Before the conversation between Demaratus and Xerxes in 7.209 takes place, however, Herodotus focuses in 7.208 on what Xerxes’ scout actually sees at Thermopylae. Herodotus relates that when Xerxes and the Persians were still in Thessaly, Xerxes had heard that a “small army” (στρατιὴ ὀλίγη) had assembled at the Thermopylean pass (7.208.1). Xerxes thus sends “a horseman as scout” (κατάσκοπον ἱππέα) to spy out the Greek camp at Thermopylae in order “to see how many they were and what they were doing” (ἰδέσθαι ὁκόσοι εἰσὶ καὶ ὅ τι ποιέοιεν). Herodotus chronicles the horseman's subsequent actions in the following way. ὡς δὲ προσήλασε ὁ ἱππεὺς πρὸς τὸ στρατόπεδον, ἐθηεῖτό τε καὶ κατώρα πᾶν μὲν οὒ τὸ στρατόπεδον· τοὺς γὰρ ἔσω τεταγμένους τοῦ τείχεος, τὸ ἀνορθώσαντες εἶχον ἐν φυλακῇ, οὐκ οἷά τε ἦν κατιδέσθαι· ὁ δὲ τοὺς ἔξω ἐμάνθανε, τοῖσι πρὸ τοῦ τείχεος τὰ ὅπλα ἔκειτο. ἔτυχον δὲ τοῦτον τὸν χρόνον

Λακεδαιμόνιοι ἔξω τεταγμένοι. τοὺς μὲν δὴ ὥρα γυμναζομένους τῶν ἀνδρῶν, τοὺς δὲ τὰς κόμας κτενιζομένους. ταῦτα δὴ θεώμενος ἐθώμαζε καὶ τὸ πλῆθος ἐμάνθανε. μαθὼν δὲ Page 76 → πάντα ἀτρεκέως ἀπήλαυνε ὀπίσω κατ᾽ ἡσυχίην· οὔτε γάρ τις ἐδίωκε ἀλογίης τε ἐνεκύρησε πολλῆς· ἀπελθών τε ἔλεγε πρὸς Ξέρξην τά περ ὀπώπεε πάντα.

[When the horseman rode to the camp, he did not gaze at and behold all the camp; for he was not able to discern those who had been stationed inside the wall, which they, after they had rebuilt it, were holding under guard. But he did watch those outside, whose weapons lay in front of the wall. At this time Lacedaemonians happened to be stationed outside. He saw some of the men exercising, and others combing their hair. Indeed, gazing at these things, he was amazed, and he learned their number. After he had learned everything accurately, he rode back at leisure; for no one, out of their complete lack of concern for him, either pursued him or met him. When he had gone away, he told Xerxes all the very things that he had seen.] (7.208.2–3) As Herodotus is careful to point out, the scout cannot see the entire Greek camp at Thermopylae, but the scout can only see the Greeks stationed outside the wall across the pass. By contrast, the Herodotean narrator gives readers a glimpse of the camp as a whole: he informs readers both about the Greeks inside the wall and about the Greeks outside the wall. Thus, Herodotus alerts readers to the deficiencies in the information that Xerxes’ scout is able to gather about the Greek camp in 7.208.57 Granted, the scout does duly note “the number” (τὸ πλῆθος) of the Greeks stationed outside the wall, but at the same time he completely fails to realize that there are far more Greeks stationed inside the wall.58 In addition, the scout does note what the Greeks outside the wall were doing at the time that he saw them, with “some exercising” (τοὺς μὲν…γυμναζομένους) and “others combing their hair” (τοὺς δὲ τὰς κόμας κτενιζομένους) (7.208.3). Nevertheless, the scout does not know the exact identity of the Greeks he observes; thanks to Herodotus’ authorial comment, however, readers know that the Greeks who happen to be stationed outside the wall at the time of the scout's spectation Page 77 → are “Lacedaemonians” (Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 7.208.2).59 The scout's initial reaction to the Lacedaemonians’ actions, moreover, is one of astonishment: “gazing at these things,” says Herodotus, the scout “was amazed” (ταῦτα…θεώμενος ἐθώμαζε, 7.208.3). The scout's amazement prefigures Xerxes’ own bewilderment (7.209.1) when the scout reports to the king what he has seen at the Greek camp.60 According to Herodotus, however, the scout had not left Thermopylae to return to Xerxes until the scout “had learned everything accurately” (μαθὼν…πάντα ἀτρεκέως, 7.208.3). Calvin Byre (2004, 9) underlines the ironic nature of Herodotus’ statement here, “given the fact that [Herodotus] has made it clear that the scout has by no means seen ‘everything.’” When the scout subsequently tells Xerxes “all the very things that he had seen” (τά περ ὀπώπεε πάντα), Herodotus’ readers are able to recognize just how unimpressive and inadequate all that the scout reports to Xerxes really is. Through the way that the Lacedaemonians at Thermopylae themselves react to the scout, Herodotus further directs readers to take a negative view of the scout's information-gathering abilities. Herodotus says that the scout “rode back at leisure; for no one, out of their complete lack of concern for him, either pursued him or met him” (ἀπήλαυνε ὀπίσω κατ᾽ ἡσυχίην· οὔτε γάρ τις ἐδίωκε ἀλογίης τε ἐνεκύρησε πολλῆς, 7.208.3). The Lacedaemonians stationed outside the wall at Thermopylae appear to have noticed the Persian scout who has been watching them, but they have such total disregard (ἀλογίης…πολλῆς) for him that they do not harass him at all, but let him leave unharmed.61 Readers cannot help but share somewhat in the utter disdain that the Lacedaemonians have for Xerxes’ scout. The Lacedaemonians certainly do not seem to value whatever information the scout has gathered, and perhaps, Herodotus implies, neither should readers. When the scout reports to Xerxes what he has seen at Thermopylae, the Lacedaemonians’ behavior—exercising and combing their hair—observed by the scout seems “laughable” to the king. It is then that Xerxes sends for Page 78 → Demaratus to explain this behavior to him.62 Of this episode, Herodotus writes the following. ἀκούων δὲ Ξέρξης οὐκ εἶχε συμβαλέσθαι τὸ ἐόν, ὅτι παρεσκευάζοντο ὡς ἀπολεόμενοί τε καὶ

ἀπολέοντες κατὰ δύναμιν· ἀλλ’ αὐτῷ γελοῖα γὰρ ἐφαίνοντο ποιέειν, μετεπέμψατο Δημάρητον τὸν Ἀρίστωνος, ἐόντα ἐν τῷ στρατοπέδῳ. ἀπικόμενον δέ μιν εἰρώτα Ξέρξης ἕκαστα τούτων, ἐθέλων μαθεῖν τὸ ποιεύμενον πρὸς τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων.

[When Xerxes heard [this], he was not able to understand the truth, that [the Lacedaemonians] were preparing to the best of their ability either to be killed or to kill. But since they seemed to him to be doing laughable things, he sent for Demaratus, son of Ariston, who was in the camp. When he arrived, Xerxes asked him about each of the things, since he wished to know what was being done by the Lacedaemonians.] (7.209.1–2) On the one hand, the word “laughable” (γελοῖα, 7.209.1) links the conversation in 7.209 with the previous one in 7.101–105, where Xerxes twice laughs at the ethnologic information Demaratus presents to him (γελάσας, 7.103.1; γέλωτα, 7.105). In 7.209.1, Xerxes laughs once more at Lacedaemonian customs. With Xerxes’ laughter, Herodotus signals to readers that Xerxes will display in this passage an intellectual arrogance similar to that which characterized his responses to Demaratus in 7.101–105, and that Xerxes will receive Demaratus’ advice with a similar degree of hostility. Xerxes’ laughter at the Lacedaemonians’ behavior before the battle at Thermopylae (7.209.1), however, is shown by Herodotus both in 7.209.1 and elsewhere to be misguided on several levels.63 First, Xerxes is basing his own derisive evaluation of the Lacedaemonians’ behavior on the imperfect information provided to him by his scout. Not only does Xerxes not even know that there are Greeks stationed inside the wall at Thermopylae, but also Xerxes does not know that the Greeks stationed outside the wall are Lacedaemonians. Second, the Herodotean narrator explains that Xerxes Page 79 → cannot even comprehend what the scout does report to him: “When Xerxes heard [this], he was not able to understand the truth, that [the Lacedaemonians] were preparing to the best of their ability either to be killed or to kill” (ἀκούων δὲ Ξέρξης οὐκ εἶχε συμβαλέσθαι τὸ ἐόν, ὅτι παρεσκευάζοντο ὡς ἀπολεόμενοί τε καὶ ἀπολέοντες κατὰ δύναμιν, 7.209.1).64 Xerxes is as blind to τὸ ἐόν (“the truth” or “reality”) as he was to ἀληθείη (“truth”) in his conversation with Demaratus in 7.101–105. In contrast to Xerxes in 7.209.1, Herodotus as narrator can comprehend the “truth” of the Lacedaemonians’ actions, and in 7.209.1 Herodotus points this truth out to readers: the Lacedaemonians are getting ready “either to be killed or to kill.” Third, Demaratus in his upcoming response to Xerxes’ request for information (7.209.2–4) will elaborate on Herodotus’ brief explanation in 7.209.1 regarding the Lacedaemonians’ behavior, and will explain further the import of the Lacedaemonians’ behavior. Fourth, the conduct of the Lacedaemonians during the actual fighting at Thermopylae, as Herodotus’ own narrative makes clear, will prove that both Herodotus’ and Demaratus’ explanations for the Lacedaemonians’ behavior before the battle were correct: the Lacedaemonians were indeed preparing to fight to the death. When Demaratus responds in 7.209.2 to Xerxes’ question concerning the Lacedaemonians’ behavior, Demaratus’ frustration, which lay just below the surface of his responses to Xerxes in 7.101–105, comes out into the open. He shares this frustration with Xerxes. ἤκουσας μὲν καὶ πρότερόν μευ, εὖτε ὁρμῶμεν ἐπὶ τὴν Ἑλλάδα, περὶ τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων· ἀκούσας δὲ γέλωτά με ἔθευ λέγοντα τῇ περ ὥρων ἐκβησόμενα πρήγματα ταῦτα. ἐμοὶ γὰρ τὴν ἀληθείην ἀσκέειν ἀντία σεῦ, ὦ βασιλεῦ, ἀγὼν μέγιστός ἐστι. [You heard from me earlier, when we were setting out for Greece, about these men. But when you heard [it] you made me a laughingstock, although I told [you] the very way I saw that these matters would turn out. For practicing the truth in your presence, King, is a very great struggle for me.] (7.209.2) Page 80 → Demaratus refers Xerxes to their previous conversation (7.101–105), and he reminds Xerxes how the king had mocked Demaratus for what the latter had to say about the Greeks and the Lacedaemonians.65 Now Demaratus

feels vindicated, however, by the actions that those same Greeks and Lacedaemonians are displaying at Thermopylae. The Lacedaemonians, just as Demaratus said they would be, are preparing to do battle with the Persians. Moreover, in the earlier conversation, Demaratus repeatedly stressed (7.101.3, 7.102.1, 7.104.1) that he was telling Xerxes the truth. In 7.209.2, Demaratus makes a particularly provocative statement regarding his truth telling and Xerxes’ inability to recognize it. Demaratus says that “practicing the truth in your presence, King, is a very great struggle for me” (ἐμοὶ…τὴν ἀληθείην ἀσκέειν ἀντία σεῦ, ὦ βασιλεῦ, ἀγὼν μέγιστός ἐστι).66 The key word in this passage is ἀγών, and the most natural translation for ἀγών here is “struggle.”67 Demaratus is saying that while he “makes a practice” (ἀσκέειν) of telling Xerxes the truth, it is nevertheless a “struggle” for him to do so.68 It is a “struggle” for Demaratus to tell Xerxes the truth because, as Demaratus found in 7.101–105, Xerxes absolutely refuses to accept the truth. Demaratus even uses the superlative μέγιστος (“very great”) with ἀγών to indicate just how frustrated he has become. Demaratus’ indignation at Xerxes’ mockery of the ethnologic information that he had tried to convey to Xerxes in the previous conversation (7.101–105) causes Demaratus in the current conversation (7.209) to abandon almost all show of deference to the Great King. In 7.209.3, Demaratus finally explains to Xerxes the significance of the Lacedaemonians’ behavior that the scout reported to Xerxes in 7.208.3. And Page 81 → yet Demaratus offers his explanation in the same heated tone that he just displayed in 7.209.2. ἄκουσον δὲ καὶ νῦν. οἱ ἄνδρες οὗτοι ἀπίκαται μαχησόμενοι ἡμῖν περὶ τῆς ἐσόδου καὶ ταῦτα παρασκευάζονται. νόμος γάρ σφι οὕτω ἔχων ἐστί· ἐπεὰν μέλλωσι κινδυνεύειν τῇ ψυχῇ, τότε τὰς κεφαλὰς κοσμέονται. [But listen now. These men have come to fight us over the pass and they are preparing [to do] this. For their custom is the following: whenever they are about to put their lives at risk, at that time they put their hair in order.] (7.209.3) The second-person imperative ἄκουσον (“listen”) with emphatic καὶ νῦν (“now”) highlights Demaratus’ impatience. What Demaratus meant in 7.209.2 by saying that things are turning out in the very way he saw that they would (τῇ περ ὥρων ἐκβησόμενα πρήγματα ταῦτα) is made clear: the Greeks and Lacedaemonians have come to Thermopylae “in order to fight” (μαχησόμενοι) the Persians. This echoes 7.102.3, in which Demaratus had assured Xerxes that the Lacedaemonians, even if no other Greeks did, would certainly “fight” (μαχήσονται) the Persians, no matter how much the invaders outnumbered them. What Demaratus actually says in 7.209.3 is that the Greeks and Lacedaemonians have come to fight “us” (ἡμῖν). By identifying himself with his Persian hosts, Demaratus hints at his objectivity with regard to the Lacedaemonians, just as he did in 7.104.2, when he emphasized how little fondness he still had for the people and the city that deprived him of his kingship and drove him into exile. Demaratus implies that anything positive he says about the Lacedaemonians should accordingly be given all the more credence by Xerxes. In addition, when Demaratus says that the Lacedaemonians are behaving as they are before the battle at Thermopylae because they are “preparing” (παρασκευάζονται) to fight, he reiterates a word from Herodotus’ earlier statement that the Lacedaemonians “were preparing” (παρεσκευάζοντο, 7.209.1) either to kill or to be killed. The similarity of vocabulary between Herodotus and Demaratus helps confirm—in readers’ minds, at any rate—each of their respective interpretations of the Lacedaemonians’ actions before the battle and sets their interpretations squarely against the incredulous laughter of Xerxes.69 Page 82 → Demaratus describes in 7.209.3 a specific Lacedaemonian custom (νόμος) to Xerxes. In 7.209, Demaratus thus continues to talk about νόμοι, just as he did so emphatically in 7.101–105, when he spoke of the Greeks’ νόμος ἰσχυρός (7.102.1) and of the Lacedaemonians’ δεσπότης νόμος (7.104.4). In 7.209, Demaratus’ explanation about the Lacedaemonian custom comes in response to Xerxes’ question about what the Lacedaemonians were doing (τὸ ποιεύμενον πρὸς τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων, 7.209.2). Again, Xerxes’ scout had seen, in front of the wall built across the pass at Thermopylae, “some [Lacedaemonians] exercising and other [Lacedaemonians] combing their hair” (τοὺς

μὲν…γυμναζομένους…τοὺς δὲ τὰς κόμας κτενιζομένους, 7.208.3). In 7.209.3, Demaratus addresses only one of these two activities: combing the hair; he says nothing about the Lacedaemonians’ exercising. Perhaps this is because Demaratus assumed that, although the Lacedaemonian custom of exercising before battle, especially if the Lacedaemonians exercised in the nude, might have appeared strange to a Persian, presumably combing the hair before battle would have seemed even stranger.70 Accordingly, Demaratus seizes upon the one Lacedaemonian custom that he suspected a foreigner would have the most trouble understanding, and it is on this custom that he focuses his ethnologic comments. In the conclusion of his response (7.209.4), Demaratus moves from the description that he gave in 7.209.3 regarding a specific Lacedaemonian custom to more general comments on Lacedaemonian military valor. ἐπίστασο δέ· εἰ τούτους τε καὶ τὸ ὑπομένον ἐν Σπάρτῃ καταστρέψεαι, ἔστι οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἔθνος ἀνθρώπων τὸ σέ, βασιλεῦ, ὑπομενέει χεῖρας ἀνταειρόμενον· νῦν γὰρ πρὸς βασιληίην τε καλλίστην τῶν ἐν Ἕλλησι προσφέρεαι καὶ ἄνδρας ἀρίστους. [Understand [this]: if you conquer these [Lacedaemonians] and that which remains behind in Sparta, there is no other people who will resist you, King, while raising their hands against [you]. For now you are set to attack the finest kingdom and the best men among Greeks.] (7.209.4) Demaratus’ tone here is just as insistent as it was in 7.209.3. Just as Demaratus told Xerxes to “listen” (ἄκουσον) in 7.209.3, here he orders Xerxes with another second-person imperative to “understand” (ἐπίστασο). Page 83 → The most striking thing about Demaratus’ comments in 7.209.4, however, is the way Demaratus recalls his previous conversation with Xerxes in 7.101–105 through verbal echoes. In 7.101.2, Xerxes asked Demaratus “whether Greeks will stand their ground while they raise their hands against me” (εἰ Ἕλληνες ὑπομενέουσι χεῖρας ἐμοὶ ἀνταειρόμενοι). Now, in 7.209.4, Demaratus assures Xerxes that if the Lacedaemonians are eliminated, no other people “will resist you while raising their hands against [you]” (σέ…ὑπομενέει χεῖρας ἀνταειρόμενον); Demaratus thus repeats Xerxes’ verb ὑπομένειν and the phrase χεῖρας ἀνταείρεσθαι from 7.101.2. Finally, Demaratus’ reference to the Lacedaemonians as the “best/bravest men” (ἄνδραςἀρίστους) recalls his earlier, similar claim that the Lacedaemonians are the “best/bravest of all men” (ἄριστοι ἀνδρῶν ἁπάντων, 7.104.4). Allusions to the previous conversation between Demaratus and Xerxes (7.101–105) abound in 7.209.5, as well. In 7.209.5, Herodotus narrates Xerxes’ response to Demaratus’ words and gives Demaratus’ final response of the dialogue. κάρτα τε δὴ Ξέρξῃ ἄπιστα ἐφαίνετο τὰ λεγόμενα εἶναι καὶ δεύτερα ἐπειρώτα ὅντινα τρόπον τοσοῦτοι ἐόντες τῇ ἑωυτοῦ στρατριῇ μαχήσονται. ὁ δὲ εἶπε· Ὦ βασιλεῦ, ἐμοὶ χρᾶσθαι ὡς ἀνδρὶ ψεύστῃ, ἢν μὴ ταῦτά τοι ταύτῃ ἐκβῇ τῇ ἐγὼ λέγω. ταῦτα λέγων οὐκ ἔπειθε τὸν Ξέρξην. [The things that had been said seemed to be quite unbelievable to Xerxes, and he asked a second time how [the Greeks], while being so many [in number], would fight with his army. And [Demaratus] said: “King, treat me as a liar, if things don't turn out the way I say.” Although he said these things, he did not convince Xerxes.] (7.209.5) Xerxes himself refers to his previous conversation with Demaratus by asking “a second time” (δεύτερα), as Herodotus notes, about how the meager numbers of Greeks can possibly contend with the vast multitude of the Persian army (cf. 7.101.2, 103.3). With his brief response, Demaratus too refers to the conversation in 7.101–105, as well as to earlier remarks of his in the current dialogue. He commands Xerxes—using an infinitive (χρᾶσθαι) in place of the imperatives he has twice used in this dialogue (7.209.3, 4)—that Xerxes “treat [him] as a liar” (ἐμοὶ χρᾶσθαι ὡς ἀνδρὶ ψεύστῃ) if Demaratus’ predictions concerning the Lacedaemonians do not come true. The noun ψεύστης (“liar”) recalls the participle ψευδόμενος (“lying”) in Demaratus’ anxious declaration, near the beginning of the previous conversation, that Xerxes is forcing him to tell the truth, “while I say those things Page 84 →

[about] which I will not be caught by you later speaking falsely” (λέγοντα τὰ μὴ ψευδόμενός τις ὕστερον ὑπὸ σεῦ ἁλώσεται, 7.102.1). Demaratus also in 7.209.5 references his earlier statement that Xerxes had laughed (in 7.103.1 and 105) at what he had said about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians, “although I told [you] the very way I saw that these matters would turn out” (λέγοντα τῇ περ ὥρων ἐκβησόμενα πρήγματα ταῦτα, 7.209.2). The verb ἐκβαίνειν (“turn out”) in 7.209.5 (ἐκβῆ) recalls the participle ἐκβησόμενος from 7.209.2. On the one hand, Herodotus paints a similar portrait of Xerxes in 7.209 to the portrait of Xerxes that emerges from 7.101–105. Herodotus succinctly concludes the conversation in 7.209 by noting that Demaratus “did not convince” (οὐκ ἔπειθε, 7.209.5) the Persian king. In some ways, Xerxes is as blind to the truthfulness of Demaratus’ ethnologic discourse in 7.209 as he was in 7.101–105, since in neither dialogue does Demaratus convince Xerxes as to the truthfulness of what he has told him about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians. An important word for Herodotus’ characterization of Xerxes in 7.209 is ἄπιστος: Xerxes finds Demaratus’ statements “unbelievable” or “incredible” (ἄπιστα, 7.209.5). In the only other passage that Herodotus uses the word ἄπιστος in the Histories, he expressly says that those who find a particular report “unbelievable” are wrong. Herodotus claims that “speeches were given that are unbelievable to some of the Greeks, but they were, at any rate, given” (ἐλέχθησαν λόγοι ἄπιστοι μὲν ἐνίοισι Ἑλλήνων,ἐλέχθησαν δ’ ὦν, 3.80.1). The speeches in question make up the so-called Constitutional Debate (3.80–83) between Darius and his fellow conspirators, who discuss which form of government the Persians should adopt now that the Magian pretender to the throne has been overthrown.71 Thus, when Herodotus says that Xerxes finds Demaratus’ statements “unbelievable” (ἄπιστα), he may be implying—just as Herodotus clearly does in the case of those Greeks who doubt the historicity of the Constitutional Debate—that Xerxes is wrong to do so.72 Herodotus underlines just how wrong Xerxes is, and, conversely, just how right Demaratus is, by using the intensive κάρτα with ἄπιστα: Xerxes is so mistaken that he thinks Demaratus’ words are “very/quite” unbelievable. Page 85 → On the other hand, the Xerxes that Herodotus portrays in 7.209 is less hostile overall to Demaratus and his ethnologically oriented advice than he was in 7.101–105. Unlike in the earlier dialogue, where Xerxes twice mocks Demaratus (7.103.1, 7.105), makes fun of the Lacedaemonian custom of double portions for kings (7.103.1–2), and even says that Demaratus is “ignorant” and is “talking nonsense” (7.103.5), in 7.209 Xerxes laughs at the Lacedaemonians’ behavior at Thermopylae (7.209.1), but not at Demaratus’ explanation of that behavior. While Xerxes does finally find Demaratus’ words in 7.209 “unbelievable” (ἄπιστα, 7.209.5) and is not convinced by them, he seems to be putting forth some genuine effort in trying to understand what Demaratus is saying. Perhaps with a bit of exasperation, Xerxes asks Demaratus to explain a second time just how so few Greeks expect to fight the vast numbers that make up the Persian army (7.209.5). Try as he may, Xerxes simply cannot get his mind around this problem.73 Xerxes’ belief in his own judgment has been shaken somewhat by Demaratus’ prescience: Demaratus said in 7.101–105 that the Greeks would resist Xerxes, and now in 7.209 they are getting ready to do exactly that at Thermopylae. He, therefore, in 7.209, shows signs of giving credence to Demaratus’ words, but he cannot quite bring himself to do so, at least not yet. At the same time that Xerxes’ acceptance of Demaratus’ understanding of the Greeks begins to grow, however, Demaratus’ confidence in Xerxes’ ability to comprehend the truth continues to wane. He admits bluntly to Xerxes that it is a “very great struggle” to tell him the truth (7.209.2). He punctuates his responses to Xerxes with imperatives (7.209.3, 4) and an infinitive for imperative (7.209.5), calling upon Xerxes to pay attention in the vain hope that Xerxes will finally believe him. He refuses to explain to Xerxes any further about how the Greeks will fight the Persians; he exclaims rather combatively, “Treat me as a liar, if things don't turn out the way I say” (7.209.5). There is no use, concludes Demaratus, in repeating arguments Xerxes has already soundly rejected. If his ethnologic arguments concerning the Greeks and Lacedaemonians won't convince Xerxes, Demaratus concludes, then the Greeks’ actions at Thermopylae will. Nevertheless, in his final conversation with Xerxes (7.234–37), Demaratus will try one more Page 86 → time to communicate to Xerxes some ethnologic information concerning the Lacedaemonians.

Rejected Strategy (7.234–37)

In the last conversation between Demaratus and Xerxes in the Histories (7.234–37), Xerxes asks Demaratus specifically how the Persians can best defeat the Lacedaemonians. The conversation occurs in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Thermopylae, and is occasioned by the difficulty the Persians have had in defeating the Greeks and, especially, the Lacedaemonians in battle. Based on Demaratus’ correct predictions that not only would the Lacedaemonians resist the Persian invasion (7.101–105), but also they would fight the Persians to the death (7.209), as they had just done at Thermopylae, Xerxes in 7.234–37 expresses a newfound respect for the truthfulness of Demaratus’ ethnologic observations. In response to Xerxes’ question concerning how the Persians can master the Lacedaemonians (7.234.3), Demaratus gives him a specific strategic solution, based on the former king's deep familiarity with Lacedaemonian lore and with the topography of Greece. Xerxes’ brother Achaemenes, an admiral of the Persian fleet, joins the conversation at this point, however, and dissuades Xerxes from following Demaratus’ advice. So easily derailed are Demaratus’ final efforts to persuade Xerxes of the ethnology he has to offer. As soon as he summons Demaratus to himself at Thermopylae, Xerxes makes clear that his opinion about him has changed. Xerxes even brings up the topic of “truth.” Δημάρητε, ἀνὴρ εἶς ἀγαθός. τεκμαίρομαι δὲ τῇ ἀληθείῃ· ὅσα γὰρ εἶπας, ἅπαντα ἀπέβη οὕτω. νῦν δέ μοι εἰπέ, κόσοι τινές εἰσι οἱ λοιποὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, καὶ τούτων ὁκόσοι τοιοῦτοι τὰ πολέμια, εἴτε καὶ ἅπαντες. [Demaratus, you are a good man. I infer [this] from the truth. For all the things that you said have happened in the way [that you said they would]. Now tell me, how many are the remaining Lacedaemonians and how many of those are like these [i.e., the Lacedaemonians who fought at Thermopylae] with respect to war, or are all of them [the same].] (7.234.1) In the previous two conversations (7.101–105 and 7.209), Demaratus was the one who spoke of truth. Now Xerxes actually cites “the truth” (τῇ ἀληθείῃ) Page 87 → as proof that Demaratus is a “good/useful” (ἀγαθός) man.74 The truth in question concerns the fighting that has recently ended at Thermopylae; the Greeks fought just as valiantly and as stubbornly as Demaratus had promised Xerxes (both in 7.101–105 and in 7.209) that they would.75 Xerxes now realizes that Demaratus was speaking the truth about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians all along. Not only does Xerxes broach the subject of truth, but, just as in the previous two conversations, he also takes on some of the characteristics of Herodotus as an inquirer, especially in the vocabulary that he uses. As we saw, in 7.209, Xerxes displayed an inquisitive nature regarding the Lacedaemonians’ behavior before the wall at Thermopylae, and in 7.101–105 he even applied to himself the verb πυνθάνεσθαι (“learn [by inquiry]”) (7.101.1, 3). It is in 7.234–37, moreover, that Xerxes most assumes the appearance of Herodotus. In this passage, Xerxes uses some particularly technical words that are more commonly associated in the Histories with Herodotus himself. Perhaps the most notable of such words is τεκμαίρεσθαι (“infer”): Xerxes cites “the truth” as his basis for “inferring” (τεκμαίρομαι, 7.234.1) that Demaratus is a good man (7.234.1). As Rosalind Thomas (1997; 2000, 190–200; cf. Hollmann 2011, 9–47) points out, τεκμαίρεσθαι is one of a group of words used by Herodotus that comprise what she calls the “language of proof.”76 Like contemporary medical writers and like Thucydides, Herodotus occasionally declares that he has “proof” that serves to verify a given piece of information.77 With Xerxes’ use of τεκμαίρεσθαι, then, Herodotus depicts Xerxes as striving to employ the most intellectually rigorous techniques of argumentation possible. The reason Xerxes feels it necessary to use such sophisticated language in this particular conversation with Demaratus (7.234–37) is due to his increased respect for the truthfulness of what Demaratus in their previous conversations has been telling him about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians. Even in 7.101–105, Xerxes valued Demaratus’ opinion enough to ask him for Page 88 → information and advice. And yet Xerxes had openly mocked Demaratus’ pronouncements about Greek valor in 7.101–105. In 7.209, as well, Xerxes stubbornly refused to believe Demaratus’ warnings about the ferocity of the coming Greek resistance at Thermopylae. When he asks for Demaratus’ advice in 7.234–37, however, Xerxes has come to realize that Demaratus has always in the past told him the truth. Thus Xerxes expresses his admiration for Demaratus’ knowledge and integrity and pays

Demaratus a compliment by raising the level of his own discourse (e.g., with sophisticated vocabulary like τεκμαίρεσθαι) in an attempt to match wits with him.78 For the first time in his dialogues with Demaratus, moreover, Xerxes even uses the correct terminology to refer to Demaratus’ own (erstwhile) countrymen: he asks Demaratus “how many are the remaining Lacedaemonians” (κόσοι τινές εἰσι οἱ λοιποὶ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, 7.234.1).79 Again, Xerxes is aiming for intellectual precision in 7.234–37 as a show of respect for Demaratus. Faced with Xerxes’ initial praises in 7.234.1, however, Demaratus is restrained in his response (7.234.2). In 7.234.1, Xerxes asked Demaratus two basic questions: how many Lacedaemonians are left at home, and how many of these are as good at fighting as those who fought at Thermopylae. It is these two questions, and only these two questions, that Demaratus now attempts to answer. ῏Ω βασιλεῦ, πλῆθος μὲν πολλὸν πάντων τῶν Λακεδαιμονίων καὶ πόλιες πολλαί· τὸ δὲ θέλεις ἐκμαθεῖν, εἰδήσεις. ἔστι ἐν τῇ Λακεδαίμονι Σπάρτη πόλις ἀνδρῶν ὀκτακισχιλίων μάλιστα. καὶ οὗτοι πάντες εἰσὶ ὅμοιοι τοῖσι ἐνθάδε μαχεσαμένοισι· οἵ γε μὲν ἄλλοι Λακεδαιμόνιοι τούτοισι μὲν οὐκ ὅμοιοι, ἀγαθοὶ δέ. [King, there is a great multitude of all the Lacedaemonians, and they have many cities. But that which you wish to learn, you will know. There is in Lacedaemon a city, Sparta, of about 8,000 men. And these Page 89 → are all equal to those who fought here. The rest of the Lacedaemonians are not equal to these, but they are good men.] (7.234.2) There is here none of the expansiveness to Demaratus’ comments that we saw in several of his responses in 7.101–105 and in 7.209. The repeated rejection of his ethnologically centered advice in past conversations with Xerxes has made Demaratus wary, despite Xerxes’ recent words of praise; he will therefore supply Xerxes only with the information he asks for and nothing more. Not content with Demaratus’ succinct explanation, however, Xerxes asks Demaratus in 7.234.3 to expand on his remarks. In addition, Xerxes offers yet more praise of Demaratus and even points to Demaratus’ credentials as adviser. Δημάρητε, τέῳ τρόπῳ ἀπονητότατα τῶν ἀνδρῶν τούτων ἐπικρατήσομεν; ἴθι ἐξηγέο. σὺ γὰρ ἔχεις αὐτῶν τὰς διεξόδους τῶν βουλευμάτων, οἷα βασιλεὺς γενόμενος. [Demaratus, in what way will we subdue these men with the least trouble? Come, relate [it]. For you have the ins and outs of their plans, since you were their king.] (7.234.3) There has to be a reason why Xerxes continues to call on Demaratus for advice. And it is, reasonably enough, that Demaratus was king of Sparta. As a former king, Demaratus should know “the ins and outs” (τὰς διεξόδους) of Lacedaemonian thinking, just as he should know exactly how the Lacedaemonians fight. It follows, then, that Xerxes should have believed Demaratus’ earlier comments about how formidable of warriors the Lacedaemonians are, just as he should now believe Demaratus’ counsel about how best to subdue the Lacedaemonians. Faced with Xerxes’ insistent questioning, Demaratus lets down his guard a bit and gives a more expansive response in 7.235.1–3. Xerxes’ continued praise of Demaratus’ reliability, along with his continued interest in learning about the Lacedaemonians, has persuaded Demaratus that perhaps Xerxes has changed. Accordingly, Demaratus gives the following explanation. Ὦ βασιλεῦ, εἰ μὲν δὴ συμβουλεύεαί μοι προθύμως, δίκαιόν με σοί ἐστι φράζειν τὸ ἄριστον. εἰ τῆς ναυτικῆς στρατιῆς νέας τριηκοσίας Page 90 → ἀποστείλειας ἐπὶ τὴν Λάκαιναν χώρην. ἔστι δὲ ἐπ’ αὐτῇ νῆσος ἐπικειμένη τῇ οὔνομά ἐστι Κύθηρα, τὴν Χίλων ἀνὴρ παρ’ ἡμῖν σοφώτατος γενόμενος κέρδος μέζον ἔφη εἶναι Σπαρτιήτῃσι κατὰ τῆς θαλάσσης καταδεδυκέναι μᾶλλον ἢ ὑπερέχειν, αἰεί τι προσδοκῶν ἀπ’ αὐτῆς τοιοῦτον ἔσεσθαι οἷόν τοι ἐγὼ ἐξηγέομαι, οὔτι τὸν σὸν στόλον προειδώς, ἀλλὰ πάντα ὁμοίως φοβεόμενος ἀνδρῶν στόλον. ἐκ ταύτης τῆς νήσου ὁρμώμενοι φοβεόντων τοὺς Λακεδαιμονίους. παροίκου δὲ πολέμου σφι ἐόντος οἰκηίου οὐδὲν δεινοὶ ἔσονταί τοι μὴ τῆς ἄλλης

Ἑλλάδος ἁλισκομένης ὑπὸ τοῦ πεζοῦ βοηθέωσι ταύτῃ. καταδουλωθείσης δὲ τῆς ἄλλης Ἑλλάδος ἀσθενὲς ἤδη τὸ Λακωνικὸν μοῦνον λείπεται.

[King, if you earnestly ask for my advice, it is just that I tell you that which is best. You should send out three hundred ships from your navy against the land of Laconia. There is an island lying off the coast of it named Cythera. A very wise man among us, Chilon, used to say that it was more advantageous for the Spartans that [this island] sink down into the sea than remain above it. He always expected that there would [come] from it some such thing as I will relate to you, although he did not foresee your host, but he feared every host of men alike. Setting out from this island, let them strike fear into the Lacedaemonians. If they have a war of their own close to home, there will be no [need] for you to fear at all that when all the rest of Greece is being conquered by your infantry, they will come to [Greece's] aid. When all the rest of Greece has been enslaved, Laconia, now weakened, will be left all alone.] (7.235.1–3) If Xerxes “earnestly” or “eagerly” (προθύμως) wants his advice, states Demaratus—that is to say, if Xerxes is finally ready to give Demaratus’ words the credit they deserve—then he will freely advise Xerxes once again. The content of Demaratus’ advice in 7.235.1–3 is both ethnologic and strategic. He relates to Xerxes a story told by the Lacedaemonians about the topography of their land and the effect that this topography has on their security. Based on the Lacedaemonians’ anxiety over the danger that the position of Cythera poses to their city-state, Demaratus offers Xerxes a strategy that the Persians can use to defeat the Greeks.80 It is Page 91 → an ethnologically informed strategy that uses the Lacedaemonians’ own fears—fears a former king of Sparta would have known only too well—against them. Demaratus’ tone becomes sterner, however, when he considers that Xerxes may reject this advice as well. Indeed, in 7.235.4 Demaratus ratchets up the verbal pressure on Xerxes to heed his warnings. ἢν δὲ ταῦτα μὴ ποιῇς, τάδε τοι προσδόκα ἔσεσθαι· ἔστι τῆς Πελοποννήσου ἰσθμὸς στεινός· ἐν τούτῳ τῷ χώρῳ, πάντων Πελοποννησίων συνομοσάντων ἐπὶ σοί, μάχας ἰσχυροτέρας ἄλλας τῶν γενομένων προσδέκεο ἔσεσθαί τοι. ἐκεῖνο δὲ ποιήσαντι ἀμαχητὶ ὅ τε ἰσθμὸς οὗτος καὶ αἱ πόλιες προσχωρήσουσι. [But if you do not do this, expect the following to happen: In the Peloponnese there is a narrow isthmus. At this place, once all the Peloponnesians have formed an alliance against you, expect there to be battles [that are] more fierce and of a different sort than those that have been [fought by you up to now]. This isthmus and the cities [of the Peloponnese] will come over without a fight to [the one] who has done that [which I suggest].] (7.235.4) The effect of anaphora that Demaratus achieves by the close proximity and nearly identical form of the two second-person imperatives he uses in this passage (προσδόκα, “expect”; προσδέκεο, “expect”) adds to the forcefulness of his remonstration. Once Demaratus has finished speaking, Xerxes’ brother Achaemenes joins the conversation in 7.236 in order to dissuade Xerxes from following Demaratus’ advice. Herodotus relates that Achaemenes, an admiral of the Persian fleet, “feared that [Demaratus] might persuade Xerxes to do these things” (δείσας μὴ ἀναγνωσθῇ Ξέρξης ποιέειν ταῦτα, 7.236.1). Thus, Herodotus hints that a fearful Achaemenes may be speaking out of self-interest: dividing up the fleet and stationing ships at Cythera, as Demaratus proposes, might lead to a decrease in the number of ships under Achaemenes’ own command.81 Page 92 → In 7.236.1, Achaemenes seeks to malign Greeks in general as untrustworthy and traitorous. Therefore, Achaemenes argues his case using ethnology.

Ὦ βασιλεῦ, ὁρῶ σε ἀνδρὸς ἐνδεκόμενον λόγους ὃς φθονέει τοι εὖ πρήσσοντι ἢ καὶ προδιδοῖ πρήγματα τὰ σά. καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ τρόποισι τοιούτοισι χρεώμενοι Ἕλληνες χαίρουσι· τοῦ τε εὐτυχέειν φθονέουσι καὶ τὸ κρέσσον στυγέουσι. [King, I see that you are accepting the words of a man who begrudges you doing well or is even a traitor to your affairs. For, in fact, Greeks delight in having just such ways as these: they are envious of good fortune and hate the stronger.] (7.236.1) Achaemenes refers to the “ways” (τρόποι) in which the Greeks “delight”—namely, envying the fortunate and hating the powerful.82 We have already seen that in 7.103.4 Xerxes too used this same term, τρόπος, to refer to (Persian) “customs.” Achaemenes’ main argument against Demaratus’ plan, however, is strategic. As Achaemenes explains in 7.236.2, if the Persians take away 300 ships from their fleet and send them against the Peloponnese, then the Greeks will be a match for what remains of the Persian fleet not stationed at Cythera. Keeping the fleet intact, says Achaemenes, will help the army as well; the Persian army and navy fighting together and in support of one another will be invincible. At the end of his plea to Xerxes, Achaemenes again refers to ethnology (7.236.3), but he here rejects the military value of knowing about foreign customs. Achaemenes thus argues that the very things Xerxes asked Demaratus about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians in their two previous conversations (7.101–105 and 7.209), and is now asking him in the current conversation are irrelevant. Achaemenes continues: τὰ σεωυτοῦ δὲ τιθέμενος εὖ γνώμην ἔχε τὰ τῶν ἀντιπολέμων μὴ ἐπιλέγεσθαι πρήγματα, τῇ τε στήσονται τὸν πόλεμον τά τε ποιήσουσι ὅσοι τε πλῆθός εἰσι. ἱκανοὶ γὰρ ἐκεῖνοί γε αὐτοὶ ἑωυτῶν Page 93 → πέρι φροντίζειν εἰσί, ἡμεῖς δὲ ἡμέων ὡσαύτως. Λακεδαιμόνιοι δὲ ἢν ἴωσι ἀντία Πέρσῃσι ἐς μάχην, οὐδὲν τὸ παρεὸν τρῶμα ἀκεῦνται. [Once you have set your own affairs in good order, make it your plan not to consider the affairs of your enemies, where they will institute the war and what they will do and how many they are in number. For those men themselves are capable of taking thought for themselves, and we, likewise, for ourselves. But if Lacedaemonians go to battle against Persians, in no way will they rectify their present disaster.] (7.236.3) According to Achaemenes, Xerxes should not be concerned with what kind of fighters or how numerous the Lacedaemonians—and Achaemenes here, as Xerxes did earlier (7.234.1), uses the specific ethnic designation Λακεδαιμόνιοι—are; Xerxes should instead worry only about getting his own forces ready to fight. In Achaemenes’ view, the superiority of the Persian military machine to anything the Greeks can muster renders all other considerations unnecessary. Xerxes must now choose between the advice of Demaratus, who Xerxes himself admits has consistently told him the truth, and that of Achaemenes, who Herodotus implies has a vested interest in the rejection of Demaratus’ plan. Faced with these competing counsels, Xerxes begins with the following words. Ἀχαίμενες, εὖ τέ μοι δοκέεις λέγειν καὶ ποιήσω ταῦτα. Δημάρητος δὲ λέγει μὲν τὰ ἄριστα ἔλπεται εἶναι ἐμοί, γνώμῃ μέντοι ἑσσοῦται ὑπὸ σεῦ. [Achaemenes, you seem to me to speak well, and I shall do those things [you advise]. Demaratus says the things he supposes to be best for me, but in his opinion he is defeated by you.] (7.237.1) Even though, on the surface, Xerxes praises Demaratus, there is still a note of condescension to Xerxes’ remarks in this passage. The condescension here is much gentler than the outright ridicule to which Xerxes subjected Demaratus’ responses in 7.101–105, but for all his avowed respect for Demaratus’ truthfulness, Xerxes still displays a (now familiar) intellectual arrogance in this passage. According to Xerxes, Demaratus “says the things he supposes to be best for me” (λέγει…τὰ ἄριστα ἔλπεται εἶναι ἐμοί). With the verb ἔληεσθαι (“expect/suppose”:

ἔληεται), Xerxes may be implying that Page 94 → Demaratus merely supposes that he knows what is best for Xerxes, but that in actual fact—despite all the evidence of Demaratus’ truthful advice from previous conversations to the contrary—Demaratus does not know any such thing.83 Nevertheless, Xerxes proceeds in 7.237.2 to defend Demaratus against Achaemenes’ aspersions. Xerxes even cites the reliability of the advice Demaratus has given up to now. οὐ γὰρ δὴ κεῖνό γε ἐνδέξομαι ὅκως οὐκ εὐνοέει τοῖσι ἐμοῖσι πρήγμασι, τοῖσί τε λεγομένοισι πρότερον ἐκ τούτου σταθμώμενος καὶ τῷ ἐόντι… [For I will absolutely not believe that [Demaratus] is ill disposed to my affairs, judging both by the things that were said by him earlier and by the truth…] (7.237.2) Just as Xerxes in 7.234.1 referred to the truthfulness that Demaratus had displayed in their two previous conversations (7.101–105 and 7.209), he now refers again to what Demaratus had said on the earlier occasions (τοῖσι…λεγομένοισι πρότερον ἐκ τούτου). It is based on Demaratus’ earlier predictions regarding the stubbornness of the Greek resistance to come (especially) at Thermopylae that leads Xerxes to “judge” (σταθμώμενος) that Demaratus has had the King's best interests in mind all along.84 According to Xerxes in 7.237.2, moreover, Xerxes evaluates Demaratus’ intentions as an adviser by considering “the truth” or “reality” (τὸ ἐόν). Xerxes’ statement that he “judges by the truth” (σταθμώμενος…τῷ ἐόντι) that Demaratus is well-disposed to him recalls his statement in 7.234.1 that he “infers from the truth” (τεκμαίρομαι…τῇ ἀληθείῃ) that Demaratus is a good man.85 Beginning in 7.234.1, as we saw, based on his newfound respect for Demaratus’ truthfulness, Xerxes tries to match wits with Demaratus by using language and concepts that are more sophisticated intellectually: the word τεκμαίρεσθαι forms one part of Xerxes’ strategy; talk of “truth” the other. The end result is that Xerxes, however briefly, takes on the appearance Page 95 → of Herodotus himself; the most sophisticated thinker that Herodotus can imagine for Xerxes to imitate is, not surprisingly, Herodotus himself. Similarly, when Xerxes in 7.237.2 cites τὸ ἐόν (“the truth”), he becomes one of only two characters in the Histories to use this expression other than the Herodotean narrator.86 The specific “truth” to which Xerxes refers in 7.237.2, moreover, involves the concept of guest-friendship (ξεινίη). In defense of Demaratus’ trustworthiness, Xerxes cites: τῷ ἐόντι, ὅτι πολιήτης μὲν πολιήτῃ εὖ πρήσσοντι φθονέει καὶ ἔστι δυσμενὴς τῇ σιγῇ, οὐδ’ ἂν συμβουλευομένου τοῦ ἀστοῦ πολιήτης ἀνὴρ τὰ ἄριστά οἱ δοκέοντα εἶναι ὑποθέοιτο, εἰ μὴ πρόσω ἀρετῆς ἀνήκοι· σπάνιοι δέ εἰσι οἱ τοιοῦτοι. ξεῖνος δὲ ξείνῳ εὖ πρήσσοντί ἐστι εὐμενέστατον πάντων, συμβουλευομένου τε ἂν συμβουλεύσειε τὰ ἄριστα. οὕτω ὦν κακολογίης πέρι τῆς ἐς Δημάρητον, ἐόντος ἐμοὶ ξείνου, ἔχεσθαί τινα τοῦ λοιποῦ κελεύω. [the truth, that a citizen is jealous of [another] citizen who is faring well and he is hostile [to him] by his silence. Not even if a fellow countryman should ask for advice would a citizen advise that which seemed best to him, unless he should reach a superior level of virtue; and such men are rare. But a guest-friend is the most well disposed of all things to [another] guest-friend who is faring well, and if [the one] should ask for advice, [the other] would advise the best things. So then concerning the slander toward Demaratus, since he is my guest-friend, I order that one refrain [from it] in the future.] (7.237.2–3) In 7.237.2–3, then, Xerxes contends that a guest-friend (ξεῖνος) is more trustworthy than a fellow citizen.87 According to Xerxes, a citizen (πολιήτης), presumably of a given Greek polis, cannot rely on a fellow citizen of the same polis to advise him honestly due to the competitiveness and envy that naturally exist among citizens.88 Xerxes argues that, by contrast, a guest-friend Page 96 → can be trusted to look to the interests of his own guestfriend, and so offer good advice. Accordingly, Xerxes tells Achaemenes: “So then concerning the slander toward Demaratus, since he is my guest-friend, I order that one refrain [from it] in the future” (οὕτω ὦν κακολογίης πέρι τῆς ἐς Δημάρητον, ἐόντος ἐμοὶ ξείνου, ἔχεσθαί τινα τοῦ λοιποῦ κελεύω, 7.237.3). The argument Xerxes offers

here is syllogistic: guest-friends can be trusted; Demaratus is my guest-friend; therefore, I can trust Demaratus.89 Xerxes’ belief in the reliability of guest-friends is why he can assure Achaemenes in 7.237.1 that Demaratus “says the things he supposes to be best for me” (λέγει…τὰ ἄριστα ἔλπεται εἶναι ἐμοί): in Xerxes’ view, a guest-friend like Demaratus advises “that which seems best to him” (τὰ ἄριστά οἱ δοκέοντα εἶναι, 7.237.2; cf. τὰ ἄριστα, 7.237.3).90 There is a far more compelling reason why Xerxes should trust Demaratus than that Demaratus is his “guestfriend,” however, and Xerxes himself even refers to this reason at the beginning of the conversation. As we saw, Xerxes tells Demaratus that “all the things that you said have happened in the way [that you said they would]” (ὅσα…εἶπας, ἅπαντα ἀπέβη οὕτω, 7.234.1). All the things Demaratus said in 7.101–105 and in 7.209 about the nature of the Greeks’ resistance to Xerxes’ invasion have indeed come to pass. This is the reason Xerxes should believe that Demaratus’ plan to occupy Cythera is one the Persians would be well advised to adopt. Demaratus has a thorough familiarity with Greek, and especially Lacedaemonian, customs and ways of thinking. Again, Xerxes himself refers to precisely this expertise on Demaratus’ part in 7.234.3, when he says that Demaratus knows “the ins and outs of [the Lacedaemonians’] plans” (αὐτῶν τὰς διεξόδους τῶν βουλευμάτων). In the end, therefore, Xerxes’ professed appreciation in 7.234.1 and in 7.234.3 for Demaratus’ truthfulness and expertise amounts to nothing. When it comes time for him to decide in 7.237 which of the two counsels before him to follow—that of Demaratus and that of Achaemenes—Xerxes takes no account of Demaratus’ proven credentials as an adviser and his past success in predicting exactly what the Greeks would do. Xerxes seems incapable of choosing the better advice, and even seems to have forgotten from earlier in this same conversation his praises of Demaratus’ reliability. As an audience of Demaratus’ ethnology, Xerxes seems incorrigible; he cannot make himself believe Demaratus’ statements about the Greeks. Page 97 → The conversation in 7.234–37 is the last reported in the Histories between Demaratus and Xerxes. It marks Demaratus’ final attempt to persuade Xerxes of the ethnology he has at his disposal. Based on his past failures to convince Xerxes, Demaratus starts out this conversation by being guarded in his remarks. Xerxes’ continued praise of Demaratus’ truthfulness and expertise, however, at last causes the latter to let down his defenses somewhat and to offer the king a plan with which the Persians can win their war against the Greeks. Even so, Demaratus refrains entirely from talking about “truth” in 7.234–37. Unlike in the two previous conversations, Demaratus has little hope left of persuading Xerxes to believe the “truth” about the Greeks and Lacedaemonians. Once Xerxes rejects his advice yet again in 7.234–37, however, Demaratus gives up any hope that might remain. When therefore Demaratus is next faced with an opportunity to convey ethnologic information to Xerxes (8.65), he refrains from doing so.

Ominous Ethnology (8.65) In Demaratus’ last appearance in the Histories (8.65)—which also happens to be his last appearance chronologically in the events described by Herodotus—he talks the Athenian exile Dicaeus out of reporting ethnologic information to Xerxes. Thus, in this episode, Demaratus gives advice to another potential adviser of Xerxes, but Demaratus does not advise Xerxes himself. Herodotus relates a tale told by Dicaeus, who, like the Spartan exile Demaratus, had found refuge with the Persians. Just as Demaratus has so often explained Greek, and especially Lacedaemonian, customs, to Xerxes, Dicaeus explains Athenian customs to Demaratus—namely, some of those that surround the celebration of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Dicaeus’ disquisition comes after both he and Demaratus witness a portent. This portent, as Dicaeus interprets it, bodes ill for the Persians’ success in their war with the Greeks, particularly at the Battle of Salamis. Fearing that Dicaeus might lose his life if he were to tell Xerxes the apparent bad news, however, Demaratus strongly cautions Dicaeus against reporting this portent to the King. Demaratus recognizes that in their previous conversations Xerxes’ stubborn refusal to believe him on Greek ethnologic matters could easily have devolved into outright hostility on Xerxes’ part toward Demaratus as an adviser, and so Demaratus tries to spare Dicaeus the fate that could have been his.

As one of the few named sources in the Histories, Dicaeus has received Page 98 → much scholarly attention. Herodotus identifies Dicaeus as “Dicaeus son of Theocydes, an Athenian, who had become both an exile and an esteemed man among the Medes” (Δίκαιος ὁ Θεοκύδεος ἀνὴρ Ἀθηναῖος, φυγάς τε καὶ παρὰ Μήδοισι λόγιμος γενόμενος, 8.65.1). In addition, Herodotus asserts at the very beginning of this passage that Dicaeus “told” or “used to tell” (ἔφη) the story that Herodotus now relates to readers. At the close of the episode, Herodotus again affirms: “Dicaeus son of Theocydes said these things, and he appealed to Demaratus and others as witnesses” (ταῦτα μὲν Δίκαιος ὁ Θεοκύδεος ἔλεγε, Δημαρήτου τε καὶ ἄλλων μαρτύρων καταπτόμενος, 8.65.6). Scholars have considered how Herodotus learned of the story he ascribes to Dicaeus; from the words ἔφη and ἔλεγε it is unclear, strictly speaking, whether Dicaeus was ultimately an oral or a written source for Herodotus.91 Regardless of how Herodotus came across the story, Dicaeus plays the part of an ethnologer in this episode, and Demaratus is Dicaeus’ audience. Through the conversation that Dicaeus engages in with Demaratus, then, Herodotus is able to explore yet again the challenge an inquirer has in persuading others to trust what he has to say about foreign customs. Dicaeus’ ethnologic comments are offered to Demaratus as an explanation of an omen that the two men have seen together. The conversation that Herodotus records between Dicaeus and Demaratus takes place several days before the Battle of Salamis, when the Persians are occupying an Attica that has been abandoned by the Athenians. Dicaeus and Demaratus are with the Persian army in the Thriasian Plain that stretched between Athens and Eleusis, when the omen occurs.92 According to Herodotus, Dicaeus and Demaratus: ἰδεῖν δὲ κονιορτὸν χωρέοντα ἀπ’ Ἐλευσῖνος ὡς ἀνδρῶν μάλιστά κῃ τρισμυρίων, ἀποθωμάζειν τέ σφεας τὸν κονιορτὸν ὅτεών κοτε εἴη ἀνθρώπων, καὶ πρόκατε φωνῆς ἀκούειν, καί οἱ φαίνεσθαι τὴν φωνὴν εἶναι τὸν μυστικὸν ἴακχον. [saw coming from Eleusis a dust-cloud as if [made by] about thirty thousand men, and they were marveling at the dust-cloud, [wondering] Page 99 → what men [had made it]. Suddenly they heard a voice, and the voice seemed to him [i.e., Dicaeus] to be the Iakchos cry of the Mysteries.] (8.65.1) Although Dicaeus will go on to give his interpretation of this omen, neither he nor Herodotus identifies exactly who the 30,000 men are whose feet stir up the dust cloud on the plain. One possibility—and the more likely one given Herodotus’ overall view of the gods and of the role they played in the Persian War—is that the procession of men over the plain is a phantom one, and that the 30,000 correspond to the adult male citizen population of Athens as given by Herodotus in 5.97.2.93 In this reading, a ghostly band makes its way from Eleusis toward Athens, retracing in reverse the annual journey along the sacred way that was made by initiants into the Eleusinian Mysteries. Another possibility—one that seeks to rationalize the fantastic elements of the story—is that the dust cloud seen by Dicaeus and Demaratus is caused by an actual procession of thousands of men—namely, Persian troops marching south toward Megara.94 While the Athenian Dicaeus can draw upon his knowledge of the Eleusinian Mysteries to make sense of the portent, the Spartan Demaratus, as Dicaeus notes, cannot. εἶναι δ’ ἀδαήμονα τῶν ἱρῶν τῶν ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι γινομένων τὸν Δημάρητον, εἰρέσθαι τε αὐτὸν ὅ τι τὸ φθεγγόμενον εἴη τοῦτο. [Demaratus was ignorant of the sacred rites that took place at Eleusis, and he [i.e., Demaratus] asked what this thing was that was being uttered.] (8.65.2) In his conversations with Xerxes, Demaratus had been the informed ethnologer, answering the foreigner Xerxes’ questions about Greek and Lacedaemonian customs. Now Demaratus has switched roles. It is Demaratus who does not understand some detail of foreign ethnology—if one Greek state (e.g., Sparta) can be said to be truly “foreign” from another (Athens)—and who must consult a native of that foreign country (or city-state, in this case) for information. Of the various conversations between Xerxes and Demaratus, the one Page 100 → that is most closely analogous

to the conversation between Demaratus and Dicaeus in 8.65 is 7.209. Herodotus even introduces these two conversations in a similar manner. Demaratus asks Dicaeus about the omen because—according to Dicaeus—Demaratus “was ignorant of the sacred rites that took place at Eleusis (εἶναι δ’ ἀδαήμονα τῶν ἱρῶν τῶν ἐν Ἐλευσῖνι γινομένων, 8.65.2). Xerxes asks Demaratus about the Lacedaemonians’ exercising and combing their hair before battle at Thermopylae because—according to Herodotus—Xerxes “was not able to understand the truth, that [the Lacedaemonians] were preparing to the best of their ability either to be killed or to kill (οὐκ εἶχε συμβαλέσθαι τὸ ἐόν, ὅτι παρεσκευάζοντο ὡς ἀπολεόμενοί τε καὶ ἀπολέοντες κατὰ δύναμιν, 7.209.1). Thus, ignorance or lack of understanding compels both Demaratus in 8.65 and Xerxes in 7.209 to question their respective ethnologers. As we shall see, however, Demaratus in 8.65 and Xerxes in 7.209 react quite differently to the ethnologic information with which they are each presented. Dicaeus’ response (8.65.2–4) to the question that Demaratus asks regarding “that which was being uttered” (τὸ φθεγγόμενον, 8.65.2) falls into two parts. First, Dicaeus identifies the dust cloud that he and Demaratus have seen and the cry that they have heard on the plain as an omen sent by the gods, and he offers his interpretation of what this omen means. Δημάρητε, οὐκ ἔστι ὅκως οὐ μέγα τι σίνος ἔσται τῇ βασιλέος στρατιῇ. τάδε γὰρ ἀρίδηλα, ἐρήμου ἐούσης τῆς Ἀττικῆς, ὅτι θεῖον τὸ φθεγγόμενον, ἀπ’ Ἐλευσῖνος ἰὸν ἐς τιμωρίην Ἀθηναίοισί τε καὶ τοῖσι συμμάχοισι. καὶ ἢν μέν γε κατασκήψῃ ἐς τὴν Πελοπόννησον, κίνδυνος αὐτῷ τε βασιλέϊ καὶ τῇ στρατιῇ τῇ ἐν τῇ ἠπείρῳ ἔσται, ἢν δὲ ἐπὶ τὰς νέας τράπηται τὰς ἐν Σαλαμῖνι, τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατὸν κινδυνεύσει βασιλεὺς ἀποβαλεῖν. [Demaratus, it is not possible that the King's army will not [suffer] some great harm. For this is clear, since Attica is deserted, that the thing that is being uttered is divine, and that it comes from Eleusis to aid the Athenians and their allies. If [the dust-cloud] falls upon the Peloponnese, the King himself and his land army will be endangered, but if it turns upon the ships at Salamis, the King will run the risk of losing his navy.] (8.65.2–3) In Dicaeus’ view, the omen is favorable to the Athenians and their Greek allies, but unfavorable to the Persians. Dicaeus even uses the movement of the dust cloud as a form of divination: whether the dust cloud moves Page 101 → toward the Peloponnese or toward Salamis, it will portend danger either for the Persian army or for the Persian ships.95 It is because the dust cloud is currently moving from the direction of Eleusis toward Athens, moreover, that Dicaeus connects it, along with the cry, to the Eleusinian Mysteries. Second, since Dicaeus takes the omen's connection with the Eleusinian Mysteries as established, he then gives the foreigner Demaratus an account of certain Athenian customs that surround the Mysteries. τὴν δὲ ὁρτὴν ταύτην ἄγουσι Ἀθηναῖοι ἀνὰ πάντα ἔτεα τῇ Μητρὶ καὶ τῇ Κόρῃ, καὶ αὐτῶν τε ὁ βουλόμενος καὶ τῶν ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων μυεῖται· καὶ τὴν φωνὴν τῆς ἀκούεις ἐν ταύτῃ τῇ ὁρτῇ ἰακχάζουσι. [Athenians celebrate this festival every year for the Mother and the Maiden, and anyone of them and of all the rest of the Greeks who wishes is initiated into the mysteries; and as for the sound that you are hearing, they shout “Iakchos” in this festival.] (8.65.4) In 7.209, Demaratus had to explain to Xerxes a Lacedaemonian custom that had left Xerxes baffled—namely, that the Lacedaemonians comb their hair before battle. In 8.65, Dicaeus explains to a similarly baffled Demaratus why there is a dust cloud and disembodied cry emanating from Eleusis. The dust cloud, says Dicaeus, represents the dust that would be generated every year as a procession of Athenians—and other Greeks—made their way to Eleusis to take part in the mysteries celebrated in honor of Demeter and Persephone. Dicaeus interprets the cry—an interpretation to which Herodotus has already alluded in 8.65.1—as the mystic Iakchos cry that would be uttered by the celebrants as they proceeded to Eleusis.96 The Athenian Dicaeus thus informs Demaratus of Athenian customs. Dicaeus is no less an ethnologer of his own people in his conversation with Demaratus in 8.65

than Demaratus himself has been in his various conversations with Xerxes. Faced with the dire predictions that Dicaeus has made concerning the Persian forces, Demaratus’ reaction (8.65.4–5) is both sharp and anxious. Σίγα τε καὶ μηδενὶ ἄλλῳ τὸν λόγον τοῦτον εἴπῃς. ἤν γάρ τοι ἐς βασιλέα ἀνενειχθῇ τὰ ἔπεα ταῦτα, ἀποβαλέεις τὴν κεφαλήν, καί σε οὔτε ἐγὼ δυνήσομαι ῥύσασθαι οὔτ’ ἄλλος ἀνθρώπων οὐδὲ εἷς. ἀλλ’ ἔχ’ ἥσυχος, περὶ δὲ στρατιῆς τῆσδε θεοῖσι μελήσει. Page 102 → [Be silent, and do not tell this account to any other person. For, I assure you, if these words are reported to the King, you will lose your head, and neither I nor any other man whatsoever will be able to save you. But keep your peace; this army will be the concern of gods.] (8.65.4–5) The caution that Demaratus displays here recalls his hesitation at the beginning of his first dialogue with king Xerxes (7.101.3), where he asks Xerxes whether he is to speak truthfully or according to the king's pleasure. As Demaratus well knows, if Dicaeus were to tell Xerxes that the Persians’ efforts against the Greeks are doomed to failure, he would hardly bring news pleasing to the Great King. Such unwelcome tidings might even cost Dicaeus his life.97 Demaratus also knows from personal experience how futile it is to speak the truth to king Xerxes in particular. It is Demaratus’ contention, then, that not only would Dicaeus be unable to convince Xerxes of the truth, but also the truth might even get Dicaeus killed. Moreover, the ethnologic element to the truth in question—that the gods are indicating their favor for the Greeks and disfavor for the Persians through a (phantom) reenactment of the procession that moved between Athens and Eleusis as part of the Eleusinian Mysteries—only heightens the contrast between Demaratus and Xerxes as audiences for ethnology. While Xerxes has repeatedly rejected Demaratus’ ethnologically informed advice, Demaratus appears quite readily to accept Dicaeus’ explanation for the omen that they see and hear on the Thriasian Plain. He does not scoff at Dicaeus’ interpretation, nor does he show any apparent skepticism in the connection Dicaeus draws between the portent on the plain and the Eleusinian Mysteries. Instead, Demaratus seems fully convinced that the dust cloud and the cry are heaven-sent; his comment that “this army will be the concern of gods” (περὶ δὲ στρατιῆς τῆσδε θεοῖσι μελήσει, 8.65.5) reveals as much. Demaratus does not specify which “gods” (θεοῖσι)—whether Demeter, Persephone, or others—will be concerned (μελήσει) with the Persian army, but he takes the omen to mean, just as Dicaeus does, that the gods are preparing to do harm to Xerxes’ troops.98 When Herodotus resumes his narrative, he indicates that both Dicaeus Page 103 → and Demaratus have interpreted the omen correctly.99 Herodotus relates that following the appearance of the dust cloud and the utterance of the mystic cry, a cloud (νέφος) rose up (presumably) from the plain and floated toward the Greek encampment at Salamis (8.65.6). “In this way,” Herodotus writes, “they [i.e., Dicaeus and Demaratus] knew that Xerxes’ fleet would be destroyed” (οὕτω δὴ αὐτοὺς μαθεῖν ὅτι τὸ ναυτικὸν τὸ Ξέρξεω ἀπολέεσθαι μέλλοι). Based on these several divine signs, then, the destruction of the Persian forces at Salamis seems inevitable. As Demaratus assures Dicaeus, the gods will take care of (μελήσει) the Persians; the Persians’ defeat, in this case, is a matter that is entirely in the hands of the gods. Consequently, the defeat is completely out of either Demaratus’ or Dicaeus’ control. The one thing Demaratus and Dicaeus can control is whether they report the conclusions they have drawn from the divine portents to Xerxes. And it is on this point that Demaratus takes a stand. Under no circumstances, Demaratus “advises” (παραινέειν, 8.65.6) Dicaeus, should the latter tell Xerxes about the disaster the gods have in store for the Persians. With the verb παραινέειν, Herodotus clearly indicates that Demaratus is serving as Dicaeus’ “adviser” in 8.65, and Demaratus advises Dicaeus, essentially, not to convey Dicaeus’ ethnologic information to Xerxes.

Conclusion

Demaratus appears in 8.65 as a changed man from the one that conversed with Xerxes in 7.101–105, 7.209, and 7.234–37 about ethnologic matters. In 8.65, rather than sharing ethnology with Xerxes, Demaratus withholds it from him. As a result of his dialogues with Xerxes in 7.101–105, 7.209, and 7.234–37 Demaratus has become so disillusioned by the repeated failures he has experienced in convincing Xerxes of the ethnologic truths at his disposal that he dissuades Dicaeus from even trying to convince the King of Page 104 → the ethnology that Dicaeus himself has to offer.100 In 8.65, Herodotus even strips the mantle of ethnologer from Demaratus’ shoulders and puts it on those of Dicaeus instead, as if to signify that Demaratus’ time as ethnologer in the Histories has passed. Herodotus knew well the challenge that convincing others of seemingly incredible ethnologic details posed, and Demaratus, at least with Xerxes as his audience, ultimately proves unable to meet that challenge. Herodotus may relate to, even sympathize with, Demaratus’ task, but ultimately draws a contrast between himself and the unpersuasive ethnologer Demaratus. Not everyone, Herodotus assures his readers, can be as successful at presenting the results of his ethnographic researches as he himself is. 1. An exception to Xerxes’ rejection of Demaratus’ advice is 7.3: in an episode that Herodotus narrates entirely in indirect discourse, Xerxes actually uses Demaratus’ advice (about a specific Spartan custom relating to royal succession) to succeed his father Darius as Persian king; Herodotus himself casts doubt on the episode’s historicity, however, by terming it in 7.3.2 a φάτις (“rumor/report”; cf. Shimron 1989, 77). 2. On Demaratus’ “two faces” in the Histories—as Spartan king and as Persian adviser—see Boedeker 1987a. 3. For further discussion of Herodotus’ “inquiring” kings, see introduction, 18–19. 4. This is not to suggest that Herodotus normally applies the verb πυνθάνεσθαι only to himself; he uses the verb to describe the actions of many characters in the Histories. But the basic meaning of πυνθάνεσθαι (“hear or learn by inquiry [i.e., by asking questions of others]”) describes a quintessential activity that Herodotus attributes to himself as an inquirer. On Xerxes as an inquirer-like figure in the Histories, see further introduction, 18. 5. For the Herodotean motif of an adviser’s asking a king permission to speak, see Lateiner 1989, 184; Gray 2002, 300; cf. Pelling 2006a, 152; 2006b, 120n.33. 6. Cf. Dihle 1962, 207 (contra Thomas 2000, 111): “Up to this point, Demaratus’ words [in 7.102.1] can entirely be interpreted as a piece of Ionian ethnography” (Bis hierher lassen sich die Worte Demarats durchaus als ein Stück ionischer Ethnographie interpretieren). 7. Regarding Demaratus’ reference to the “poverty” (πενίη, 7.102.1) of Greece, Grethlein 2009, 202n.24 writes: “…arguing for an invasion, Mardonius (7.5.3) and Xerxes (7.8[α]2) mention the beauty and richness of Greece; Demaratus (7.102.1), on the other hand, emphasizes the poverty. Since the poverty of the land is the reason for Greek virtue, it is obvious that Xerxes’ underestimation of the Greeks is rooted in his ignorance towards country and people.” Quite differently, Kurke 2011, 407–12 points to the fable-like interaction of the concepts Poverty (πενίη), Courage (ἀρετή), Intelligence (σοφίη), and Tradition (νόμος) in 7.102.1. Indeed, Kurke views the encounter between the Greek sage Demaratus and the eastern potentate Xerxes in 7.101–105 as a clash between lowly Aesopic fable (Demaratus) and grand Homeric epic (Xerxes). 8. Cf. Thomas 2000, 110: “Poverty is suntrophos, literally something you ‘grow up together with’, used of growing organically, growing naturally, and it can be used thus of illness by the Hippocratic writers.” 9. As Thomas 2000, 109–11; 2006, 69, 73. For Herodotus’ use of the term φύσις in his work, see Munson 2001b, 99–100n. 169 and index s.v. phusis. On the connections between the Sophists and Herodotus, see Dihle 1962; Fowler 1996, 86–87; Winton 2000. 10. On the similarity between many aspects of Herodotus’ thought and that of the Hippocratics, see Lateiner 1986; Thomas 2000, 2006; Raaflaub 2002, 161–64 (esp. 162–63 on 7.102). On Herodotus’ general concept of “hard” and “soft” peoples, see Redfield 1985, 109–15; Gould 1989, 58–60; Kurke 1992, 102; Munson 2001b, 88n.131; Thomas 2000, 103–14; 2006: 64–65. 11. Ostwald 1969, esp. 20–54, who surveys the various meanings that the word νόμος carries to the end of the fifth century, concludes (54): “Νόμος, in all its senses, signifies an ‘order’ and implies that this order is, or ought to be, generally regarded as valid and binding by the members of the group in which it prevails.” 12. Cf. Legrand 1951, 111 (“strict laws” [lois rigoureuses]); Grene 1987, 502 (“strength of their laws”);

Lateiner 1989, 161 (“the strength of settled law); Munson 1993b, 42 (“strong law”); Waterfield 1998, 439 (“force of law;” cf. Dewald 1998a, 700 [“respect for the law”]); Forsdyke 2001, 344 (“strong law”); van Wees 2002, 342 (“powerful law”); de Sélincourt 2003, 448 (“strength of law”); Raaflaub 2004, 233 (“the strength of law”); Purvis 2007, 536 (“the force of strict law”). Blanco 1992, 176 translates, somewhat differently, “strict rules.” 13. As Humphreys 1987, esp. 214–18. She suggests (212) “discipline” as a translation of νόμος in 7.102.1. 14. Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ἰσχυρός 1, 2, 3 (7.102.1 cited and ἰσχυρός translated there as “severe”). 15. As Konstan 1987, 66. 16. As von Fritz 1967a, 134n.45: “This does not mean here the entirety of the areas in which Dorians dwell…but rather the parts of the Peloponnese that stand under Spartan rule or Spartan influence” (Das bedeutet hier nicht die Gesamtheit der Gegenden, in welchen Dorer wohnen…sondern die unter spartanischer Herrschaft oder spartanischem Einfluß stehenden Teile der Peloponnes). 17. Regarding Demaratus’ praise of Sparta in 7.101–105, Baragwanath 2008, 176 draws attention to “the change in [Demaratus’] perspective on Greece that comes about from afar, turning rose-tinted, as in his powerful speech to Xerxes on Greek and Spartan devotion to freedom…” She notes, however, that Demaratus’ “own commitment to freedom was not a great priority while he remained at home in Sparta, as was evident in his undermining Cleomenes’ efforts against those who were threatening Greek freedom by medizing.” Similarly, Baragwanath argues (76) that “Demaratus’ idealizing perspective on Spartan conduct” is undermined by instances of Spartan cowardice and avoidance of battle that are found in Herodotus’ own narrative. 18. Cf. Hartog 1988, 334, who maintains that in the Histories “despotic power manifests itself as the power of master over slave.” On the dichotomy between political “slavery” and “freedom” in the Histories, see further Serghidou 2004. 19. Cf. Scardino 2007, 197: “Xerxes’ tone [in 7.103] is at the same time provocative and ironic, indeed, almost childishly silly” (Xerxes’ Ton ist provozierend und ironisch zugleich, ja fast kindisch albern). 20. Regarding Xerxes’ laughter in 7.101–105, Evans 1965, 149 writes: “Xerxes did not understand; instead he took his own nomoi as absolute and despised those of others. Like Cambyses (3.37) he laughed, and his laugh symbolized his irrationality.” Cf. Hollmann 2011, 172: “Laughter at the customs of others characterizes Xerxes…and acts as an effective token of his folly and ultimate failure.” On the significance of laughter in the Histories, see further chapter 3, 113n.23. 21. Munson 2001b, 112 n. 198 maintains that Xerxes, by joking about the right of kings to double portions, is also pointing to a contradiction in the ideal of Spartan citizens as “equals” (ὅμοιοι). 22. Cf. How and Wells 1928b, 165, who note the “improbable exactitude” with which Xerxes refers to the custom. 23. According to Scardino 2007, 197 (cf. Schulte-Altedorneburg 2001, 199), Xerxes in 7.103 “shows…a mangled understanding of the meaning of Demaratus’ argument” (zeigt…mangelndes Verständnis für die Bedeutung von Demaratos’ Argumenten). 24. Referencing 7.101–105, Raaflaub 2002, 183 notes that Xerxes, much as his father Darius did in the case of the Scythians, fails to defeat the Greeks “not least because [he is] not interested in the nomoi of the peoples [he tries] to conquer.” 25. See esp. 1.173.1 (of the Caunians), 3.100 (of the Indians), and 4.96.2 (of the Getae). 26. The Persian “manner” or “custom” of monarchy involved a king with absolute power, while the two kings that comprised the Spartan diarchy had far more limited powers. On Herodotus’ presentation of Spartan kingship, see Munson 1993b. 27. Cf. Hartog 1988, 332: “…the despotes exercises his power over people’s bodies, marking them as he will, in the first place with the whip.” According to Gigante 1965, 260, “[t]he whip is the ignominious symbol of this [Persian] nomos [of rule]” (Die μάστιξ ist das unrühmliche Symbol dieses νόμος.). See further Hartog 332–34. 28. Scardino 2007, 198, cf. 199 argues that in 7.103.4 Xerxes in effect connects political freedom with anarchy. 29. Charles 2011, 124 discusses the status of the “spear-bearers” (αἰχμοφόροι) referenced by Xerxes in 7.103.5 within the Achaemenid Persian army. 30. Erbse 1992, 79 says that Xerxes “thinks…only in numbers” (nur in Zahlen…denkt). On the penchant of

Persian kings in the Histories to count—especially their subjects/possessions—see Konstan 1987, 62–66. Cf. Xerxes’ argument that Demaratus should face double the number of opponents in battle (7.103.1–2). 31. Public readings: Flory 1980 and Johnson 1994 review the ancient evidence for Herodotus’ oral reading of his work and conclude that the evidence on the whole is unreliable. Thomas 2000, 257–69 defends the idea that Herodotus gave oral readings and links such readings to the similar practice of contemporary Hippocratic writers and natural philosophers. Cf. Waterfield 2009, 487: “No one would claim, then, that Herodotus recited the entire work, over any number of days and nights; but at the same time it would be foolish to deny that he could have, and even might have, given recitations of chunks of it.” See further Evans 2008. Hostile responses: see esp. Herodotus’ comment in 3.80.1 regarding those who doubt the historicity of the Constitutional Debate (3.80–83). 32. Chapter 1, 26–30. 33. Contra Scardino 2007, 196, who says that Herodotus expresses Xerxes’ reply in 7.101.3 in indirect discourse merely “because it is less important” (da weniger wichtig) than Demaratus’ initial question in 7.101.3. 34. On Herodotus’ relationship with truth, see introduction, 6–11. 35. On the repeated reference to the concept of compulsion in 7.101–105, see Scardino 2007, 200; Baragwanath 2008, 207n.7. 36. For further discussion of Herodotus’ claims to truth in 7.139, see introduction, 9–10. 37. In another context, the Herodotean narrator posits that the exile Demaratus was “not well-disposed to Lacedaemonians” (οὐκ ἦν εὔνοος Λακεδαιμονίοισι, 7.239.2). On this passage, see Hollmann 2011, 230. 38. See Legrand 1951, 113 (la loi; cf. Darbo-Peschanski 1987, 54); von Fritz 1967b, 256 (das Gesetz); Grene 1987, 504; Lateiner 1989, 155; Cartledge 1990, 38; Waterfield 1998, 440; de Sélincourt 2003, 450; Raaflaub 2004, 234; Purvis 2007, 537. Cf. Ostwald 1969, 31 and Munson 1993b, 42 and n.17 for the translation “law and order.” 39. The Attic orator Lycurgus (Against Leocrates 129) mentions a Spartan law that asserts that “all those who refused to risk their lives on behalf of their country” (ἁπάντων τῶν μὴ θελόντων ὑπὲρ τῆς πατρίδος κινδυνεύειν) would be sentenced to death (ἀποθνῄσκειν). For discussion, see MacDowell 1986, 70. And yet MacDowell 44–46 also notes that disfranchisement (ἀτιμία) is more commonly cited in sources as the penalty laid on a Spartan accused of cowardice. 40. Blanco 1992, 177 translates νόμος in 7.104.4 as “custom.” Cf. von Fritz 1965, 7 (“law or custom” [das Gesetz oder den Bauch]); Romm 1998, 183 and Munson 2001b, 111 (“law/custom”); Byre 2004, 11 (“Custom/Law”); Stadter 2006, 246 (“customary law”). 41. As Forsdyke 2001, 34: “Spartan courage depends on law/custom (νόμος) and is socially enforced through shame. Fear of social humiliation motivates Spartan courage…” MacDowell 1986, 44–46 notes that the particular brand of ἀτιμία imposed on Spartan cowards seems to have included both legal penalties (e.g., on holding office) and social ones (e.g., on wearing a demeaning style of dress). 42. On Aristodemus (7.229–31), see Lateiner 2002; Baragwanath 2008, 75–76. 43. Herodotus reports a variant version of Aristodemus’ story (7.230): Aristodemus was one of two messengers sent away from Thermopylae; the other messenger returned and fell in the battle, but Aristodemus chose not to return in time for the battle, and so survived. 44. On this passage, see Flower and Marincola 2002, 233. For a vivid description of the class of men the Lacedaemonians labeled οἱ τρέσαντες (“the Tremblers,” i.e., those who fled from battle in fear), see Plutarch, Agesilaos 30.2–4 (and MacDowell 1986, 45 for discussion). 45. According to Scullion 2006, 196, “Demaratus speaks of nomos as despotēs, ‘lord’ of the Spartans (7.104.4). Similarly, Powell (1938, s.v. δεσπότης 3) classifies the sense of despotēs here under the rubric ‘of a god’.” 46. Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ὑποδειμαίνω (“stand in secret awe of”); Powell 1938, s.v. ὑποδειμαίνω (“fear inwardly”). 47. Cf. Benardete 1969, 190: “…external despotism cannot match the invisible pervasiveness of the law [i.e., νόμος in 7.104.4], which makes the Greeks not only fear it but each other as well.” 48. Cf. Thomas 2006, 69: “Since Xerxes had claimed fear would make his subjects ‘stronger than their nature (physis)’ (7.103.4), Demaratus’ stress on nomos as the determinant is implicitly drawing up the contrast in terms of nomos and physis: as the force which works on the whole society, nomos here gives the

whole exchange a distinctly sophistic flavour.” 49. Since, as noted earlier, scholars generally understand νόμος in 7.104.4 as “law,” the contrast most scholars see Demaratus making in 7.104.4 is one between Lacedaemonian freedom under the rule of law and Persian servitude under the rule of a king. See Gigante 1965, 260; Benardete 1969, 190; Waters 1971, 97; Redfield 1985, 252; Hartog 1988, 334; Lateiner 1989, 155; Cartledge 1990, 38; Munson 1993b, 42; Romm 1998, 184. Scardino 2007, 202n.358 rightly questions the view of Forsdyke 2001, 341–54; cf. 2006, 233 (cf. Millender 2002a; 2002b, 29–31), however, that Demaratus’ statements about the despotism of Spartan nomos in 7.104.4 reflect—in a negative way—the association of political freedom and civic strength that existed in Athenian democratic ideology. For the view that Athenian democratic ideology exercised a powerful influence on both the content of the Histories and Herodotus’ own evaluation of his material, see Forsdyke 1999, 2001, 2002; Millender 2002a; 2002b, 21–31. Similar to Forsdyke’s (and Millender’s) view is Pelling 2006b, 113 (cf. 2007, 190n.36), who contends that in the Histories “the Athenians are given the best freedom tunes—better even than the harsher, more Spartan version which we saw with Demaratus, talking of the Greek ‘fear’ of law and custom (7.104.4–5).” 50. Cf. Millender 2002a, 39n.16: “As Sara Forsdyke has suggested to me, Demaratus may describe Spartan nomos as a despotes [in 7.104.4] in order to explain the strength of Spartan nomos to a barbarian despot in a language that he will understand.” Of course, Xerxes and Demaratus would not actually have spoken the same language (unless Demaratus took the trouble to learn the Persian language once he became an adviser to the King; cf. Themistocles [Thuc. 1.138.1]). Presumably, the Greek Demaratus would have communicated with the Persian Xerxes through interpreters, as the Lydian Croesus does with the Persian Cyrus while the former is on the pyre (1.86.4, 6). 51. As Scardino 2007, 200. 52. According to Scardino 2007, 200, the function of Demaratus’ concluding comment to Xerxes in 7.104.5 is “apotropaic” (apotropäischer): with the comment, Demaratus “wishes…all the best for Xerxes’ expedition” (wünscht…für Xerxes’ Expedition alles Gute). 53. Pelling 2006b, 119n.27, cf. 111 argues, however, that in Xerxes’ “exchange with Demaratus at 7.101–4…Xerxes is not stupid in his reasons for believing that the Greeks may fragment; even if he is proved wrong by the sequel, he might easily have been right.” 54. For anger and other passions, such as lust, as kingly failings in the Histories, see Lateiner 1977, 181n.14 and 15; cf. 1989, 171, 180–81, 172–79 for a table of “The Characteristics of Autocrats.” 55. Gross 1940, 91 nicely captures Xerxes’ condescension in 7.105: “with a pitying smile, the strange prophet [i.e., Demaratus] is bid goodbye” (mit…mitleidigem Lächeln wird der seltsame Prophet verabschiedet). 56. Regarding kings and tyrants in Herodotus, Dewald 2003, esp. 50n.6 professes to strike a middle position between the view of Waters 1971 that Herodotus presents a completely objective portrait of autocrats and the more “monothematic” approaches of scholars such as Lateiner 1989, 163–86, who contends that Herodotus uses Otanes’ criticisms of autocrats in the Constitutional Debate (3.80–83; cf. Munson 2001b, 49–50) as a structuring device for his own portrayal of despotic behavior. Cf. Gammie 1986, who, while allowing that Herodotus’ picture of autocrats is not wholly negative, stresses the stereotypical quality of Herodotean tyrants and kings. 57. As Byre 2004, 7: “Herodotus does not ‘focalize’ the scene exclusively through the scout: he not only reports what the scout sees, but also tells us what he does not see and what he cannot see. Herodotus juxtaposes the limited point of view and the partial and very imperfect knowledge and perceptions of the character on the scene, in that time and that place, with the larger spatiotemporal point of view and knowledge shared by himself, the (relatively) omniscient historian, and his reader.” 58. For the total number of Greeks who fought at Thermopylae, see chapter 5, 204n.28, 205n.31. 59. Byre 2004, 8 (cf. Hignett 1963, 117n.1; contra Macan 1908a, 311) reasonably argues that these Lacedaemonians (7.208.2) stationed outside the wall at Thermopylae are one and the same as the 300 Spartans (7.202, 205.2) under Leonidas’ command. 60. As Byre 2004, 12: “[B]eholding the actions of the Spartans, [Xerxes’ scout] is unable to understand them; he can only wonder at them…In itself, such a feeling of wonder is neither laudable nor blameworthy; but the scout becomes blameworthy because he does not attempt to find out more, or to seek an explanation for what puzzles him.” For Scardino 2007, 230n.425, however, the scout’s astonishment at the

Lacedaemonians is analogous to the Herodotean narrator’s own amazement at “exotic peoples” (exotischen Völkern). 61. Cf. Byre 2004, 9: “The Spartans, it is suggested, deliberately pay the scout no heed; they do not regard his presence with fear, nor even with curiosity, but rather with indifferent contempt.” 62. Baragwanath 2008, 60 notes, however, that “Xerxes’ interest in Spartan psychology…which prompts his inquiries of Demaratus (7.209), has a military derivation: he wishes to ascertain what it will take to conquer them.” 63. On Xerxes’ laughter in 7.209.1, see Hunzinger 1995, 56–57. Hunzinger writes (57): “The story of Xerxes’ incredulity when he is confronted by the strange custom of the Lacedaemonians underlines the foolishness of being excessively incredulous” (le récit de l’incrédulité de Xerxès confronté à l’étrange coutume des Lacédémoniens souligne la stupidité d’un excès d’incrédulité). 64. Cf. Byre 2004, 12: the scout “does not see as much as he needs to see, nor does he understand what he does see; [Xerxes] is too credulous of the scout’s report (and too ready to share the scout’s incredulity concerning the behavior of the Spartans), and too incredulous of what Demaratus tells him.” Byre 13n.29 rightly criticizes Darbo-Peschanski 1987, 182–83, who argues that in 7.208–9 no one—scout, Xerxes, Demaratus, or Herodotus—is able to arrive at any sort of truth. 65. On 7.209.2, Macan 1908a, 312 remarks (rather understatedly): “ἤκουσας μὲν καὶ πρότερόν μευ: the address is curiously abrupt and discourteous; the formula ‘I told you so’ is seldom a mark of tact; is Demaratos annoyed? The reference appears to be to the conversation in cc. 101–4 supra.” 66. On the “juridical sense” of the phrase ἀντία σεῦ here, see Nagy 1990, 129n 73. 67. Most commentators essentially follow Powell 1938, s.v. ἀγών 4 and translate ἀγών in 7.209.2 as “aim” or the like: Grene 1987, 545: “For my greatest endeavor, my lord, is, in your presence, to practice truth.”; Waterfield 1998, 478: “…because I take pride in nothing so much as in trying to be honest to you, my lord.”; de Sélincourt 2003, 489: “I strive for nothing, my lord, more earnestly than to observe the truth in your presence.”; Purvis 2007, 585: “But it is my greatest goal to tell the truth in your presence.” Cf. Stein 1963c, 207, who translates ἀγών in 7.209.2 as “endeavor, ambition” (Bestreben, Ehrgeiz). On ἀγών as “struggle,” see Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ἀγών III. “Struggle” is also a more reasonable translation for the two other passages (besides 7.209.2) in which Powell (1938, s.v. ἀγών 4) renders ἀγών as “aim”: 7.104.3, 8.15.2. 68. Cf. Blanco 1992, 192: “I keep trying to tell you the truth, Your Majesty, but it’s a struggle.” Rawlinson 1942, 581 undercuts the force of “struggle” by adding “earnestly”: “Earnestly do I struggle at all times to speak truth to you, sire.” Legrand 1951, 217 suggestively translates the phrase ἀγὼν μέγιστός in 7.209.2 as “a very risky task” (une tâche très risquée). 69. As Byre 2004, 11: “Despite Xerxes’ earlier ridicule, Demaratus goes on to explain the Spartans’ behavior at the wall, telling Xerxes what Herodotus has just told the reader (thus Demaratus’ explanation now becomes invested with the same authority as the historian’s).” 70. Cf. Flory 1978a, 415: “what seems to amaze the king [i.e., Xerxes] most” regarding the Lacedaemonians’ behavior is that the latter are “combing their hair.” Contra Macan 1908a, 311; Byre 2004, 10. According to Byre, what Xerxes cannot understand “is the cavalier bravado and insouciance of the Spartans’ behavior in their situation, as they face so vast an army with so tiny a force.” 71. On the Constitutional Debate (3.80–83), see Lateiner 1989, 163–86; Pelling 2002; Roy 2012. 72. On the historical impossibility that such a debate as the Constitutional Debate (contra Herodotus 3.80–83) ever occurred among the Persians, see Moles 1993, 118–20; van Wees 2002, 327. Pelling 2002, 127–29 is more reserved regarding the debate’s historicity. Packman 1991, 405 notes that Herodotus does not indicate exactly why either the Greeks in 3.80.1 or Xerxes in 7.209.5 disbelieve the information at their disposal. 73. Cf. Scardino 2007, 232: in his conversation with Demaratus in 7.209 “Xerxes is…not unfriendly, but he is not able to deal with the things that he hears and that do not belong to his categories of thought, but he can only react to them with a laugh” (…ist Xerxes…nicht unfreundlich, aber er ist nicht imstande, auf die Dinge, die er hört und die nicht zu seinen Denkkategorien gehören, einzugehen, sondern kann nur lachend darauf reagieren). Foster 2012, 196 argues that Xerxes’ “inability to understand [in 7.208–9] foreshadows his army’s inability to prevail in the battle” at Thermopylae. 74. There is some Herodotean irony here: from the Greeks’ perspective Demaratus, adviser to the Persian

king, would hardly have been considered a “good” (ἀγαθός) man, but a “wicked” (κακός) one and a traitor. 75. On 7.234.1, Macan 1908a, 343 comments: “τῇ ἀληθείῃ, ‘by the course of events’ (not ‘by the truth of your statements’). Facts have verified the Spartan’s [i.e., Demaratus’] predictions…” Cf. Harrison 2000, 130: “The wise adviser indeed, the figure whose advice, like prophecies, is usually neglected until too late, is himself akin to a prophet. As Xerxes tells another such figure, Demaratus, ‘everything has turned out as you said’ (ὅσα γὰρ εἶπας, ἅπαντα ἀπέβη οὕτω, 7.234.1).” 76. Besides Xerxes’ use of τεκμαίρεσθαι in 7.234.1, Herodotus as narrator uses the word three times (1.57.1, 1.57.2, 2.33.2) and Artabanus, in his speech regarding Xerxes’ dream vision, one time (7.16γ2). See further Hollmann 2011, 46–47. 77. On Thucydides’ use of the “vocabulary of evidence,” see Hornblower 1994, 100–107. 78. Regarding Xerxes’ and Demaratus’ conversations in 7.101–105, 7.209, and 7.234–37, Boedeker 1987a, 196 asserts that “[t]his series of dialogues involves a linear progression in which the advice of Demaratus is taken less and less seriously.” Contra Lang 1987, 206–7, who rightly notes that in these three dialogues there is “no increase in rejection on the part of Xerxes but actually something of softening in the last case.” 79. Contrast Xerxes’ precise use of the term “Lacedaemonians” (Λακεδαιμόνιοι) in 7.234.1 with his vague reference to Sparta in 7.101.1: “a state [that is] neither smallest nor weakest” (πόλιος οὔτ’ ἐλαχίστης οὔτ’ ἀσθενεστάτης). According to Scardino 2007, 196n.347, however, the “double litotes” (doppelten Litotes) in 7.101.1 actually serves to emphasize Sparta as a main topic of conversation in 7.101–105. 80. Shimron 1989, 92n.61 argues that in 7.235 Demaratus echoes Herodotus’ statements in 7.139 about the importance of sea power to victory in the war between the Greeks and the Persians. Similarly, according to Stadter 2006, 255n.12 (cf. Flower 2006, 286), Demaratus’ advice concerning Cythera in 7.235 reflects a belief on Herodotus’ part that the Peloponnese was truly in danger of a seaborne attack during the Persian War. By contrast, Fornara 1971a, 33–34; 1981 (contra Macan 1908a, 346; How and Wells 1928b, 233; Stein 1963c, 225; Cobet 1977, 6–7) contends that by emphasizing the strategic position of Cythera in 7.235 Herodotus deliberately alludes to an historical event that happened (decades later) during the Peloponnesian War: the Athenian seizure of Cythera in 424 BCE (Thucydides 4.53–55). 81. Herodotus notes in 7.97 that Achaemenes was one of four admirals of Xerxes’ fleet. 82. Cf. 7.9β2: Mardonius labels the destructive manner in which Greeks wage war on one another “a bad custom” (τρόπῳ…οὐ χρηστῷ). Harrison 2000, 61 remarks, moreover, that “Achaemenes petulantly accuses Demaratus and the Greeks of envying all good fortune (7.236.1), missing the point presumably that it is not the Greeks who envy fortune but the gods.” 83. Of the nine examples of ἔλπεσθαι in the Histories, however, only one (7.218.2) involves an expectation that is clearly mistaken. 84. Pitcher 2007, 103–4 views 7.237.2 (which Pitcher actually cites as 7.237.1) through the lens of characterization in Greco-Roman historiography: here, Xerxes argues for the consistency of Demaratus’ character based on the latter’s past actions. 85. Of the eleven occurrences of the word σταθμάεσθαι (“judge”) in the Histories, Herodotus, perhaps surprisingly, only uses the word four times in his own voice as narrator (3.15.3, 3.38.2, 4.58, 7.214.2). 86. Herodotus uses the expression τὸ ἐόν (or the related ὁ ἐὼν λόγος = “the truth”) ten times as narrator. See, however, chapter 1, 28. In a speech to Darius, Histiaeus also refers to τὸ ἐόν (5.106.4); ironically, however, Herodotus expressly says that Histiaeus’ entire speech (despite the latter’s mention of to eon or “truth”) is deceptive (διέβαλλε, 5.107). 87. On Xerxes’ comments in 7.237.2–3 about ξεινίη (Attic ξενία), see Kurke 1991, 90, 136. On xenia in general, see Herman 1987, 1996. 88. Ironically, whereas Xerxes talks of the “jealousy” (φθονέει) that exists among citizens (7.237.2), Otanes in the Constitutional Debate (3.80–83) talks of “jealousy” (φθόνος) as a distinctive feature of monarchs (3.80.3). 89. As Scardino 2007, 239, 240. 90. Benardete 1969, 203–4 considers the possibility that when he advises Xerxes in 7.234–37, Demaratus actually has in mind the best interests of Sparta, rather than those of Xerxes. 91. As Macan 1908b, 454; Powell 1939, 108. On Dicaeus as a source for Herodotus, see further Jacoby 1913, 401–2; Waters 1985, 80–81, 93n.14; Gould 1989, 22; Hart 1993, 180; Masaracchia 1996, 187; Asheri 2003, 264–65; Bowie 2007, 152. “Totally discredited today” (Totalmente screditata oggi), says Asheri

(264), is the theory of Trautwein 1890: Dicaeus left behind written memoirs that served as a major source for Herodotus’ work. 92. For the dating of this omen, and from it the date of the Battle of Salamis, see Mikalson 2003, 76; cf. Asheri 2003, 265–66. 93. Citizen population of Athens: How and Wells 1928b, 256–57; Powell 1939, 108. The 30,000 Athenians whom Herodotus mentions in 5.97.2 are those “deceived” (διαβάλλειν, 5.97.2) by Aristagoras (5.97). For further discussion of 5.97, see chapter 3, 129–33. 94. Myres 1953, 265–66; Burn 1984, 448; Lazenby 1993, 166; cf. Legrand 1953, 66–67. 95. As Harrison 2000, 69–70. 96. On the god Iakchos, the personification of the Iakchos cry, see Clinton 1992, 64–71. 97. As Baragwanath 2008, 312n.51: “…the Athenian exile Dikaios…would be executed if his views were reported to the King: 8.65.5.” 98. That Demaratus is referring in 8.65.5 to the Persian army, and not the Greek one, is clear by his use of the demonstrative ὅδε to modify “army” (στρατιῆς τῆσδε = “this army here” [i.e., the army Demaratus and Dicaeus are accompanying]). 99. Cf. Hollmann 2011, 59. Scardino 2007, 258 notes that up to this point in 8.65, Herodotus has let Dicaeus himself narrate to Demaratus—and to readers of the Histories—how the portent relates to the Eleusinian Mysteries; the information Dicaeus presents “is briefly explained in a dramatic way instead of [through] an authorial gloss, without the narrator having to interrupt the dialogue” (wird auf dramatische Weise anstelle einer auktorialen Glosse kurz erläutert, ohne daß der Narrator den Dialog unterbrechen muß). From a different perspective, Legrand 1953, 67 argues that by emphasizing that it is Dicaeus who is telling the story of the portent, Herodotus is able to absolve himself from the responsibility of reporting “something that may seem incredible” (quelque chose qui pouvait sembler incroyable). 100. Cf. Scardino 2007, 258: “Disappointed by his failures to persuade Xerxes, Demaratus does not believe that that man [i.e., Xerxes] listens to anyone…” (Über seine Mißerfolge bei den Überredungen mit Xerxes enttäuscht, glaubt Demaratos nicht, daß jener auf jemanden hört…).

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CHAPTER 3 Aristagoras “deceiving well” At the outbreak of the Ionian Revolt, the Milesian tyrant Aristagoras travels to Sparta in an unsuccessful attempt to win military aid for the Ionians from the Spartan king Cleomenes (5.49–51).1 When he arrives in Sparta, moreover, Aristagoras has in hand a bronze map of the world. With the help of his map, Aristagoras shows Cleomenes some of the territories that the Lacedaemonians could wrest from Persian control if they invaded Asia and defeated the Persians. As he sketches out for Cleomenes the basic characteristics of the various peoples of Asia while pointing to his map as a visual aid, Aristagoras strongly resembles Herodotus himself as an inquirer, particularly in Herodotus' roles as geographer and ethnographer. Herodotus' account of Aristagoras (5.49–54) introduces a more complex variation on the pattern of the rival inquirer than we saw with Solon and with Demaratus. In his accounts of Solon (1.29–33) and of Demaratus (7.101–105, 7.209, 7.234–37), Herodotus presents two examples of rival inquirers who (like Herodotus) succeed in telling the truth, but who (unlike Herodotus) Page 106 → fail in convincing their audiences. Aristagoras is characterized as an inquirer, in part, because his information is accurate; in this way, Aristagoras, like Solon and Demaratus, tells the truth. But Aristagoras' information is also deceptive, since his intent is to use his account to trick the Spartan king Cleomenes. Furthermore, Herodotus suggests that Aristagoras' account is less accurate than the similar information provided by Herodotus himself in 5.52–54. Aristagoras, therefore, is portrayed by Herodotus both as truthful and as false, both as accurate and as deceptive. Moreover, like Solon and Demaratus, Aristagoras misjudges his audience (Cleomenes) and is unable to persuade him. In Aristagoras' case, however, he fails to make a convincing argument not only because he is deceitful, but also because he uses the truth unwisely. In direct contrast with Aristagoras in 5.49–51, Herodotus touts his own ability to use the truth wisely and persuasively. Aristagoras' ethnological presentation in 5.49–51 serves as a negative model for Herodotus' own ethnography in three related ways. First, the intention behind Aristagoras' geography, as well as his ethnology, is deceptive. With the self-interested aim of pitting the Lacedaemonians against the Persians, Aristagoras tries to trick Cleomenes into underestimating the geographical extent of the Persian Empire and, hence, the relative ease with which the Lacedaemonians could subdue Asia to their rule. From an ethnological point of view, Aristagoras tries to trick Cleomenes into underestimating the military effectiveness of the soldiers at Persia's disposal, especially the Persians and Medes. Second, Aristagoras' geography and ethnology are ultimately unsuccessful. In 5.49–51, Aristagoras fails even to finish his geographical/ethnological discourse on the land and peoples of Asia before being cut short by Cleomenes. Third, Herodotus, in his own voice as narrator, confidently picks up where Aristagoras has left off and in 5.52–54 both corrects and augments Aristagoras' account, assuring his readers that they will find his account to be more “accurate” (5.54.1) than the preceding one of Aristagoras. And yet Aristagoras in 5.49–51 is not wholly dissimilar from Herodotus, nor is Herodotus' depiction of Aristagoras in this passage wholly negative. At the very least, both Aristagoras and Herodotus display a marked interest in ethnography and geography. Moreover, in order to describe the peoples of Asia, Aristagoras uses words and expressions that are identical to those that Herodotus himself uses elsewhere in his own ethnographical accounts. Herodotus even asserts that Aristagoras is essentially “correct” (5.54.1) in what he says to Cleomenes concerning the journey to Susa. The end result is a complex portrait of Aristagoras that helps establish him as a worthy rival inquirer for Herodotus. Page 107 → Although the portrait of Aristagoras that emerges in 5.49–51 is thus a mixture of positive and negative elements, the map Aristagoras uses in this passage comes through surprisingly unscathed. Far from criticizing this map or the information that it conveys, Herodotus actually puts Aristagoras' narration of the map to a positive purpose:

the map serves as an illustration for Herodotus' own forthcoming description of the Persian Royal Road (5.52–54). When Herodotus' readers come to his account of the Royal Road, they still have fresh in their minds Aristagoras' encounter with Cleomenes. Consequently, readers of Herodotus' description of the Royal Road can almost see the course of the road appear before their eyes as they recall Aristagoras pointing to the different regions of his map, from Ionia all the way to Susa.

Scholarly Views of Aristagoras and His Map (5.49–51) Scholarly treatments of the encounter between Aristagoras and Cleomenes (5.49–51) have usually gone in one of two different directions. Firstly, some scholars have focused squarely on Aristagoras' map, and have tried to reconstruct the appearance of this intriguing object. Secondly, other scholars have sought to explain the predominantly critical tone on Herodotus' part that they detect in the episode involving Aristagoras and his map. What scholars have overlooked, however, is the degree to which Aristagoras in 5.49–51 takes on the appearance of Herodotus as an inquirer.2 The two different angles by which scholars have generally approached this episode—attempting to reconstruct Aristagoras' map, on the one hand, and analyzing Herodotus' negative view of Aristagoras in 5.49–51, on the other—actually turn out to be somewhat complementary. Since most scholars conclude that Herodotus has a low overall opinion of maps, for example, the very presence of a map in 5.49–51 provides a convenient explanation for why Herodotus has such a low opinion of the map-wielding Aristagoras. For those scholars interested in reconstructing Aristagoras' map, what Page 108 → Herodotus says about this map in 5.49 is fundamental. Herodotus introduces the episode involving Aristagoras and Cleomenes as follows. ἀπικνέεται δ’ ὦν ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης ὁ Μιλήτου τύραννος ἐς τὴν Σπάρτην Κλεομένεος ἔχοντος τὴν ἀρχήν· τῷ δὴ ἐς λόγους ἤιε, ὡς Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι, ἔχων χάλκεον πίνακα ἐν τῷ γῆς ἁπάσης περίοδος ἐνετέτμητο καὶ θάλασσά τε πᾶσα καὶ ποταμοὶ πάντες. [At any rate, Aristagoras, the tyrant of Miletus, arrived in Sparta when Cleomenes was ruling. Indeed, he spoke with him, as Lacedaemonians say, with a bronze tablet in hand on which a circuit of all the earth and the entire sea and all rivers had been engraved.] (5.49.1) According to Herodotus in 5.49.1, then, Aristagoras carries a χάλκεον πίνακα that is, a πίναξ (“tablet” or “panel”) made of bronze. “Engraved” (ἐνετέτμητο) on this pinax is “a circuit of all the earth and the entire sea and all rivers” (γῆς ἁπάσης περίοδος…καὶ θάλασσά τε πᾶσα καὶ ποταμοὶ πάντες). Later in this episode (5.49.5), Herodotus refers to Aristagoras' map as “the circuit of the earth” (τῆς γῆς τὴν περίοδον), and he there reiterates the point that the map has been “engraved on the pinax” (ἐν τῷ πίνακι ἐντετμημένην). Thus, in both 5.49.1 and 5.49.5, Herodotus refers to Aristagoras' actual map as a γῆς περίοδος (“circuit of the earth”); the πίναξ in 5.49.1, 5 is simply the “board” on which the map is engraved.3 Scholars also base their reconstruction of Aristagoras' map on ancient reports of other, earlier maps.4 The first Greek to create a map of the earth was the philosopher and natural scientist Anaximander of Miletus (d. after Page 109 → 547 BCE). Ancient sources variously term the map of Anaximander a πίναξ or a περίμετρον.5 The earlier map of Anaximander, as well as the later one of Aristagoras, say scholars, was probably flat and circular. In support of the map's flatness, scholars cite the literal meaning of pinax, “board.” For the map's roundness, scholars point to ancient notices that in Anaximander's view the earth was shaped like a column drum—that is, cylindrical.6 Unlike Aristagoras' brazen pinax, the material from which Anaximander's map was made is unknown.7 Finally, as far as the general appearance of Anaximander's map is concerned, most scholars argue that the map was most likely highly schematic and spare in detail.8 A few decades after Anaximander, the mythographer and geographer Hecataeus of Miletus (floruit c. 500 BCE) also created a map, which probably represented a conscious response to and refinement of Anaximander's earlier map.9 Hecataeus' map presumably accompanied his (fragmentary) geographical work, alternately titled Περιήγησις (“Guide”) or Περίοδος Γῆς (“Circuit of the Earth”).10 This work was of two books—one on Europe, Page 110 → one on Asia, with Africa included as part of the latter continent.11 Hecataeus' Periegesis has several

affinities to the genre of the Περίπλους, which was developing around the same time as Hecataeus was writing, and which consisted of a description of the places and peoples a sailor would encounter on a voyage around a coast.12 Both the roughly circular course of such a voyage—around the Mediterranean and Black Seas, for example, as Hecataeus' Periegesis would have described—and the connotation of the peri- (“around”) prefix in the Hecataean Periegesis and Periodos (compare the word perimetron applied to Anaximander's map) reinforce the notion that Hecataeus' map, too, was circular.13 As we have seen, the word periodos is also used for Aristagoras' map by Herodotus. Since both Anaximander and Hecataeus were, like Aristagoras, from Miletus, and since Hecataeus, moreover, was Aristagoras' contemporary, Aristagoras likely had ready access to both these maps, say scholars, and may have consulted them when designing his own map.14 In an attempt to reconstruct the appearance of Aristagoras' map, scholars have supplemented Herodotus' description of the map in 5.49 with yet more evidence from the Histories; namely, the more general comments Herodotus makes on maps in 4.36.2. γελῶ δὲ ὁρῶν γῆς περιόδους γράψαντας πολλοὺς ἤδη καὶ οὐδένα νόον ἐχόντως ἐξηγησάμενον. οἳ Ὠκεανόν τε ῥέοντα γράφουσι πέριξ τὴν γῆν, ἐοῦσαν κυκλοτερέα ὡς ἀπὸ τόρνου, καὶ τὴν Ἀσίην τῇ Page 111 → Εὐρώπῃ ποιεύντων ἴσην. ἐν ὀλίγοισι γὰρ ἐγὼ δηλώσω μέγαθός τε ἑκάστης αὐτέων καὶ οἵη τίς ἐστι ἐς γραφὴν ἑκάστη. [I laugh when I see that many have now drawn circuits of the earth and not one of them has explained it sensibly. They depict Okeanos flowing around the earth, which is [made] circular as if [drawn] with a compass, and they make Asia equal [in size] to Europe. For I will briefly show the size of each of them [i.e., Asia and Europe] and how each should be drawn.] Just as Herodotus refers to Aristagoras' map as a γῆς περίοδος, (“circuit of the earth” 5.49.1, 5), so he refers here to maps as γῆς περίοδοι (“circuits of the earth”).15 Scholars take 4.36.2 as a reasonable description of what the maps of Aristagoras, of Hecataeus, and of Anaximander all may have looked like. If this is the case, scholars argue, then Herodotus directs his criticism of maps in 4.36.2 at precisely the kind of map that Aristagoras brought with him to Sparta.16 Other scholars seek to explain the overall negative tone on the part of Herodotus that they detect in the episode involving Aristagoras and his map. Various reasons for Herodotus' negativity are given. Herodotus' disapproval of Aristagoras here may reflect certain of the thematic agendas of the Histories, such as the anti-imperialistic bent of the work or the recurring conflict between “hard” and “soft” peoples—in this case between the Lacedaemonians and the Persians.17 Alternately, Herodotus' negative view of Aristagoras may rest on Aristagoras' apparent motives in using his map: to deceive Cleomenes with regard to the actual distance between Ionia and Susa. Carolyn Dewald (1993, 64; cf. 2006, 163n.26), for example, maintains that Herodotus reports with satisfied amusement the story of Aristagoras' Page 112 → failed deception. But scholars also argue that Herodotus mistrusts Aristagoras' map not only because of the duplicitous use to which Aristagoras puts it, but also because Herodotus mistrusts maps in general. As proof that Herodotus had a low opinion of contemporary maps, scholars cite 4.36.2.18 In their efforts to characterize Herodotus' view of Aristagoras' map in 5.49, however, scholars are too quick to take Herodotus' damning comments on maps in 4.36.2 out of their immediate context. The context in question is rich in polemic. Herodotus has just reviewed the rather dubious evidence in his mind for the existence of a people called the Hyperboreans (4.32–36.1), when he makes his criticisms of maps in 4.36.2.19 As we have seen, Herodotus' chief complaints about the maps are that they depict a perfectly circular earth, surrounded by the River Ocean, and that they depict Asia and Europe as having the same size.20 With these contentious points in mind, Herodotus launches into an exposition of his own beliefs regarding the respective size and shape of the continents (4.37–45): he first adds Libya to the list (4.41), then argues that Europe, far from being the same size as Asia, is actually in length as long as Asia and Libya put together (4.42.1, 4.45.1), and finally questions the need to apply three different names—Asia, Europe, and Libya—to one earth in the first place (4.45.2).21

In 4.36.2, Herodotus criticizes the geographical understanding of map-makers as evidenced by the maps they produce. These map-makers are apparently Herodotus' “many” (πολλοὺς) Ionian predecessors in the field of geography, and not just Hecataeus specifically.22 Herodotus explains what is defective about these map-makers' maps (i.e., the maps' circular shape and the maps' particular depiction of Asia and Europe) and even promises Page 113 → to show how a map of the earth should be drawn, or at least how Asia and Europe should be depicted on a map (literally, “what sort of thing each one is for drawing” [οἵη τίς ἐστι ἐς γραφὴν ἑκάστη]). He implies that any map-maker who adheres to the description of the earth he gives in 4.37–45 will be able to draw a much more accurate map. Herodotus feels competent to make suggestions for the improvement of maps because the activity of map-makers overlaps with his own pronounced geographical interests. As such, the mapmakers are, in a sense, Herodotus' rivals as investigators in the field of geography. Just as ancient historians so often engage in polemic against their historiographic predecessors and rivals, the inquirer Herodotus here polemicizes against his geographical “rivals.” He punctuates his polemic by laughing (γελῶ) at the inadequacies of the mapmakers' work.23 Herodotus does not make his polemical comments in 4.36.2, therefore, merely to register his dissatisfaction with contemporary maps; the comments are far more localized than that. Herodotus chooses precisely this point in his narrative to criticize the way map-makers depict Asia and Europe because he is about to expound on the subject of the continents himself in 4.37–45. He denounces the work of his geographical rivals (i.e., the mapmakers) in order to emphasize the superiority of his own forthcoming geographical findings. Consequently, the fit between Herodotus' criticisms of maps in 4.36.2 and his description of Aristagoras' map in 5.49 is imperfect at best. While Aristagoras in 5.49 is in his own way no less a historiographical rival to Herodotus than are the map-makers in 4.36.2, the relationship between Aristagoras and Herodotus as inquirers is a remarkably complex one—a relationship to which Herodotus' criticisms of maps in 4.36.2 simply fail to do justice. Those scholars who focus on reconstructing Aristagoras' map or who see Herodotus' depiction of Aristagoras in 5.49–51 as wholly negative fail to appreciate this relationship. It is true that Herodotus, to a certain degree at least, disapproves of Aristagoras' activities in 5.49–51. Just as significantly, however, Herodotus imbues Aristagoras in this passage with many of his own characteristics as an inquirer. Herodotus presses the resulting figure of Aristagoras, composed of positive as well as negative qualities, into the Page 114 → service of his authorial selfpresentation. Within the text of the Histories, Aristagoras becomes a rival inquirer both with which Herodotus can identify and from which he can dissociate himself. It is also true that Aristagoras has deceptive motives for using his map and that Herodotus is critical of these motives. But Herodotus does not criticize Aristagoras' map. Scholars who see Aristagoras' encounter with Cleomenes primarily as an object lesson regarding the intrinsically misleading way that maps depict space impose a wrong emphasis on the passage. What most interests Herodotus, and what he expressly comments on, is the way Aristagoras uses his map—or, more precisely, the way Aristagoras chooses to present to Cleomenes the information at his disposal: Herodotus says both that Aristagoras was essentially “correct” (5.54.1) in what he tells Cleomenes about the journey to Susa and that, at the same time, Aristagoras was “deceiving [Cleomenes] well” (5.50.2). By reserving judgment on Aristagoras' map, however, Herodotus allows Aristagoras' description of the map in 5.49 to serve as an implicit, verbal illustration of Herodotus' own forthcoming description of the Royal Road in 5.52–54.

Aristagoras as an Inquirer 1: Barbarians and Their Military Equipment Even before Aristagoras makes use of his map in 5.49, he assumes the guise of an inquirer by giving an ethnological account of the military dress and equipment that characterize the barbarians of Asia (5.49.3–4). When Aristagoras begins his speech to Cleomenes, he beseeches Cleomenes to rescue the Ionians from Persian slavery (5.49.2–3).24 If the Lacedaemonians, the foremost warriors in Greece, will only come to Asia and meet the Persians in battle, says Aristagoras, they will easily defeat them. Connected with the “ease” with which the Lacedaemonians could handle their Asian opponents is the military equipment borne by the latter. Aristagoras explains: εὐπετέως δὲ ὑμῖν ταῦτα οἷά τε χωρέειν ἐστί· οὔτε γὰρ οἱ βάρβαροι ἄλκιμοί εἰσι, ὑμεῖς τε τὰ ἐς τὸν

πόλεμον ἐς τὰ μέγιστα ἀνήκετε ἀρετῆς πέρι. ἥ τε μάχη αὐτῶν ἐστι τοιήδε, τόξα καὶ αἰχμὴ βραχέα· ἀναξυρίδας δὲ ἔχοντες ἔρχονται ἐς τὰς μάχας καὶ κυρβασίας ἐπὶ τῇσι κεφαλῇσι. οὕτω εὐπετέες χειρωθῆναί εἰσι.

Page 115 → [These things can proceed easily for you. For the barbarians are not warlike, while you have attained the greatest degree of excellence in war. Their method of fighting is the following: bows and a short spear; they go into battle wearing trousers and, on their heads, kyrbasiai. Thus, they are easy to conquer.] (5.49.3–4) In describing the military gear of the barbarians, Aristagoras foreshadows in many ways Herodotus' own description of the weapons and clothing displayed by the different contingents of Xerxes' army (7.61–80), especially the Persian contingent in 7.61.1. I examine the implications of 5.49.3 (and its relationship to 7.61.1) in detail elsewhere; here, I will briefly summarize the results of that investigation.25 In his attempt to persuade Cleomenes that Lacedaemonians will find the barbarians no match for themselves in war—bracketing as he does his description of barbarian military equipment with words meaning “easy” (εὐπετέως, 5.49.3 [cf. 49.8]; εὐπετέες, 5.49.4)—Aristagoras carefully selects items of or terms for that equipment that would have been viewed negatively (or even humorously) by Greeks: trousers, bows, short spears, and foreign headdresses called κυρβασίαι. As shown in the aforementioned study, Aristagoras' use of the word kyrbasia in 5.49.3 is derisive: not only does Herodotus himself as narrator in 7.64.2 associate the kyrbasia with the exotic and distant Sakas of Central Asia (and not properly with Persians at all), but kyrbasia also seems to be a favorite word used by comic poets such as Aristophanes when they mention foreign headgear. In fact, Aristagoras never says in 5.49.3 that it is Persians or Medes who wear kyrbasiai, simply “barbarians” (οἱ βάρβαροι). It is an honest assertion on Aristagoras' part that barbarians carried bows and short spears and wore trousers and kyrbasiai; barbarians, in general, did possess all these things. While Aristagoras does not explicitly say that Persians or Medes bore this particular assemblage of equipment, he lets Cleomenes assume that Persians and Medes did; he therefore encourages Cleomenes to view the Persians and Medes in their outlandish dress as comically ineffective. Aristagoras hopes that Cleomenes will be further moved to action by assuming the worst about the military effectiveness of the Persians, who would in reality be the Lacedaemonians' most formidable opponents in any invasion of Asia. Indeed, while Herodotus himself as narrator indicates elsewhere in the Histories that the Persians in particular were admirable fighters, he does provide some evidence to support Aristagoras' implication that the weapons Page 116 → and military dress of barbarians—and so presumably of Persians and Medes—were deficient in comparison with their Greek analogues. In his description of the contingents of Xerxes' army, Herodotus notes that “out of all of them the Persians furnished the greatest array of equipment and were themselves the best” (κόσμον δὲ πλεῖστον παρείχοντο διὰ πάντων Πέρσαι καὶ αὐτοὶ ἄριστοι ἦσαν, 7.83.2). Thus, according to Herodotus, the Persians were the “best” or “bravest” (ἄριστοι) soldiers in Xerxes' entire army. At the Battle of Plataea, the Lacedaemonian contingent of the allied Greek force fights directly against the Persian contingent of Xerxes' army, led by the Persian general Mardonius (9.62–63). The fighting between these two contingents at Plataea comes to close quarters, that is, to the “pushing” (ἐς ὠθισμόν, 9.62.2) phase of hoplite warfare.26 It is then that Herodotus offers an explanation as to why the Persians are ultimately overmatched by the Lacedaemonians. λήματι μέν νυν καὶ ῥώμῃ οὐκ ἥσσονες ἦσαν οἱ Πέρσαι, ἄνοπλοι δὲ ἐόντες καὶ πρὸς ἀνεπιστήμονες ἦσαν καὶ ὅμοιοι τοῖσι ἐναντίοισι σοφίην. [Now the Persians were not inferior in spirit and strength, but since they were without armor and, in addition, inexperienced [in hoplite warfare] they were not equal to their opponents in skill.27] (9.62.3) Later, Herodotus similarly adds:

πλεῖστον γάρ σφεας ἐδηλέετο ἡ ἐσθὴς ἔρημος ἐοῦσα ὅπλων· πρὸς γὰρ ὁπλίτας ἐόντες γυμνῆτες ἀγῶνα ἐποιεῦντο. [For what was harming them [i.e., the Persians] the most was that their dress was devoid of armor: they were lightly-armed men fighting against heavily-armed.28] (9.63.2) Page 117 → Despite “spirit and strength” that were fully comparable to those of their Greek opponents, the Persians could not match Greeks (especially Lacedaemonians) in battle, says Herodotus, due both to the Persians' insufficient armor and to their insufficient training in hoplite tactics and maneuvers.29 Aristagoras therefore does not discuss the Persians (or Medes) specifically in his speech to Cleomenes in 5.49 precisely because of how formidable the Persians actually were as fighters. Indeed, although Aristagoras names many different peoples in his speech to Cleomenes, he never in the entire speech mentions Persians or Medes. A war against the Persians in particular would not be as easy for the Lacedaemonians as Aristagoras would have Cleomenes believe. Accordingly, Aristagoras decides to ridicule the military preparedness of unnamed, generalized “barbarians” (οἱ βάρβαροι, 5.49.3). There is another reason, however, that Aristagoras fails to name the Persians/Medes in 5.49. This reticence on Aristagoras' part shows just how similar Herodotus has made Aristagoras to himself; for in this case, Aristagoras knows what Herodotus knows. Herodotus says of the Athenians (and Plataeans) who fought against the Persians at Marathon in 490 BCE: πρῶτοι μὲν γὰρ Ἑλλήνων πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν δρόμῳ ἐς πολεμίους ἐχρήσαντο, πρῶτοι δὲ ἀνέσχοντο ἐσθῆτά τε Μηδικὴν ὁρῶντες καὶ τοὺς ἄνδρας ταύτην ἐσθημένους· τέως δὲ ἦν τοῖσι Ἕλλησι καὶ τὸ οὔνομα τὸ Μήδων φόβος ἀκοῦσαι. [For they were the first of all Greeks we know to run at their enemies, and the first to endure the sight of Medic dress and of men so attired; up to then hearing even the name of Medes was a source of fear for Greeks.] (6.112.3) Page 118 → Speaking to Cleomenes at the start of the Ionian Revolt, Aristagoras knows, as Herodotus knows, that no Greek had yet “endured the sight of Medic dress” and managed to fight the Persians successfully in battle.30 He knows, moreover, that Greeks at this time (c. 500 BCE) still shuddered at the name of the Medes (i.e., the Persians), so unstoppable did the progress of Persian military expansion appear.31 Just as Aristagoras glosses over important details (e.g., long bows, which Herodotus ascribes to the Persians in 7.61.1) about the type of military equipment that the (implied) Persians carry, he refrains from uttering the frightening name of the Medes. Aristagoras is trying his best not to scare Cleomenes off from invading Asia.32 Although Aristagoras' discussion of barbarian military equipment in 5.49.3–4 does resemble in many ways Herodotus' own discussion of the equipment carried by Xerxes' individual regiments (7.61–80), the exact content of Aristagoras' discussion is ultimately determined by the specific rhetorical strategy he employs in his appeal for Spartan aid. He seeks to embolden Cleomenes to the task of contending with the forces of the Persian Empire by ridiculing barbarian equipment and by withholding the very name of the formidable Persians and Medes. Unlike Herodotus, who presents himself to readers as an impartial inquirer, Aristagoras has a personal agenda. Consequently, the information Aristagoras relates about foreign customs—in this case, about both the military equipment and the fighting prowess of barbarians—for all its seeming accuracy, is immediately suspect. Page 119 → Moreover, Aristagoras' claim about the ease (5.49.3, 4) with which the Lacedaemonians could conquer the barbarians—that is, the Persians—would scarcely have been credible to Herodotus' readers. It is uncertain exactly

what the Spartan Cleomenes would have known about the Persians in c. 500 BCE. Perhaps Cleomenes knew that Greeks at his time had yet “to endure the sight of Medic dress”; perhaps not. But when they came to Aristagoras' speech in 5.49, Herodotus' Greek readers in the last quarter of the fifth century would have been armed with a wealth of knowledge about the Persians.33 On the one hand, readers would have already read the first four books of Herodotus' Histories, and would have seen just how inexorable the expansion of Persian rule had been (despite a few missteps along the way, such as Cambyses' failure with the Ethiopians [3.17–25] or Darius' with the Scythians [4.1, 83–102, 118–42]).34 On the other hand, readers would have known the outcome of the Persian War; yes, the Greeks had managed to ward off the Persian invasion of 480–79 BCE, but no Greek would have claimed after the fact that it had been easy to do so. As Ryan Schellenberg (2009) points out, the discourse in Herodotus' Histories can operate on several levels at once, comprising all the possible narrators and narratees for multiple meanings. In the episode involving Aristagoras and Cleomenes (5.49–51), Aristagoras is the internal (or intradiegetic) narrator, Cleomenes the internal (or intradiegetic) audience. Herodotus, who is telling this story to his readers, is the external (or extradiegetic) narrator, and his readers—whether the original fifth-century BCE Greek readers or modern readers—the external (or extradiegetic) audience. Aristagoras' speech is understood in one way by the internal audience Cleomenes, who, for a time in 5.49–51, actually seems to be giving serious thought to accepting Aristagoras' proposal. Cleomenes' positive interaction with Aristagoras begins to disintegrate when he asks Aristagoras how long it takes one to travel from Ionia to the Persian capital of Susa (5.50.1), and Page 120 → Aristagoras replies that it is a journey of three months (5.50.2). Aghast at the length of the journey, Cleomenes interrupts Aristagoras and orders him to leave Sparta (5.50.3); Cleomenes then turns and goes into his house (5.51.1). At this point, Aristagoras takes up an olive branch as a mark of supplication, follows Cleomenes into his house, and demands that Cleomenes hear him. He further changes his tactics and resorts to offering Cleomenes ever larger bribes if the Lacedaemonians will support the Ionians in their fight with the Persians (5.51.2). The bribes, whose amount rises to fifty talents, almost overcome Cleomenes' newfound hostility toward Aristagoras, before Cleomenes' eight- or nine-year-old daughter, Gorgo, who is standing beside her father and who is thus a second member of the internal audience, steps into the conversation.35 Gorgo calls out in alarm, “Father, the guest will corrupt you, if you do not step away from him and go” (Πάτερ, διαφθερέει σε ὁ ξεῖνος, ἢν μὴ ἀποστὰς ἴῃς).36 Cleomenes heeds his daughter's warning and goes into another room of his house (5.51.3), and Aristagoras is thus left with no choice but to depart from Sparta without accomplishing his mission. Only the length of the journey and Gorgo's fortuitous intrusion finally dissuade Cleomenes from acceding to Aristagoras' pleas and promising Lacedaemonian aid to the Ionians. Herodotus' readers, the external audience, understand Aristagoras' speech in quite another way than does Cleomenes. “The disjunction between the evaluation of discourse by an internal addressee and by the reader who overhears it,” says Schellenberg 135, “is often a function of the reader's possession of knowledge that the internal addressee lacks.” Again, the main thing that Herodotus' readers know that Cleomenes does not is how the Persian War—and the Ionian Revolt before it—turned out. On such a discrepancy in knowledge, Schellenberg 144–45 further comments. Extradiegetic resonances do not suppress but instead coexist with a speech's intradiegetic function. Indeed, it is precisely the reader's Page 121 → simultaneous apprehension of a speech's evaluation by its internal addressees and that reader's own evaluation that creates the potential for irony. Herodotus' readers—in a way that Cleomenes cannot—catch the ironical import of Aristagoras' claim that the Lacedaemonians, by taking part in the Ionian Revolt, can “easily” defeat the Persians. Readers know how “easily” the Persians had instead defeated the Ionians in the revolt. Irony is thus another weapon that Herodotus uses against Aristagoras in 5.49–51; with irony, Herodotus undercuts Aristagoras' ethnologic claims about barbarian military weakness and in the process manages to distance his own historiographical account, especially its reliability, from the misleading one Aristagoras is giving to Cleomenes.

Aristagoras as an Inquirer 2: Catalogue of Asian Peoples

It is when Aristagoras uses his map, as a visual aid accompanying his account of the different Asian peoples ruled by the Persians, that he most takes on the appearance of Herodotus. But even here Aristagoras' tendentious rhetorical agenda shapes his account, as the following passage, in which Aristagoras speaks to Cleomenes, illustrates. κατοίκηνται δὲ ἀλλήλων ἐχόμενοι ὡς ἐγὼ φράσω, Ἰώνων μὲν τῶνδε οἵδε Λυδοί, οἰκέοντές τε χώρην ἀγαθὴν καὶ πολυαργυρώτατοι ἐόντες. δεικνὺς δὲ ἔλεγε ταῦτα ἐς τῆς γῆς τὴν περίοδον, τὴν ἐφέρετο ἐν τῷ πίνακι ἐντετμημένην. Λυδῶν δέ, ἔφη λέγων ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης, οἵδε ἔχονται Φρύγες οἱ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, πολυπροβατώτατοί τε ἐόντες πάντων τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα καὶ πολυκαρπότατοι. Φρυγῶν δὲ ἔχονται Καππαδόκαι, τοὺς ἡμεῖς Συρίους καλέομεν· τούτοισι δὲ πρόσουροι Κίλικες, κατήκοντες ἐπὶ θάλασσαν τήνδε, ἐν τῇ ἥδε Κύπρος νῆσος κεῖται· οἳ πεντακόσια τάλαντα βασιλέϊ τὸν ἐπέτειον φόρον ἐπιτελεῦσι. Κιλίκων δὲ τῶνδε ἔχονται Ἀρμένιοι οἵδε, καὶ οὗτοι ἐόντες πολυπρόβατοι, Ἀρμενίων δὲ Ματιηνοὶ χώρην τήνδε ἔχοντες. ἔχεται δὲ τούτων γῆ ἥδε Κισσίη, ἐν τῇ δὴ παρὰ ποταμὸν τόνδε Χοάσπην κείμενά ἐστι τὰ Σοῦσα ταῦτα, ἔνθα βασιλεύς τε μέγας δίαιταν ποιέεται, καὶ τῶν χρημάτων οἱ θησαυροὶ ἐνθαῦτά εἰσι· ἑλόντες δὲ ταύτην τὴν πόλιν θαρσέοντες ἤδη τῷ Διὶ πλούτου πέρι ἐρίζετε. Page 122 → [“They live next to one another as I will show: next to the Ionians, here, are the Lydians, here, who inhabit a good land and are very rich in money.”37 [Aristagoras] said these things while pointing to the circuit of the earth, which he carried engraved on the tablet. “Next to the Lydians,” Aristagoras said, “are the Phrygians, here, those to the east, who are the richest in flocks of all of those I know and the richest in produce. Next to the Phrygians are the Cappadocians, whom we call Syrians. Their neighbors are the Cilicians, who reach to the sea, here, in which lies the island of Cyprus, here. They pay five hundred talents to the King as their yearly tribute. Next to the Cilicians, here, are the Armenians, here, and these men are rich in flocks, and next to the Armenians are the Matienoi, who possess this land, here. Next to these is the land of Cissia, here, in which beside the Choaspes river, here, lies that [famous] Susa, where the Great King spends [much of] his time, and the treasurehouses of his wealth are there. If you take this city, be assured that you will now rival Zeus in wealth.”] (5.49.5–7) This passage reads very much like a Herodotean ethnographical account. Aristagoras goes through a list of peoples one after the other, indicating the nations that border one another. Herodotus himself follows much the same procedure when he discusses the land of Libya and the peoples who inhabit it (4.168–99).38 Both Aristagoras and Herodotus begin their accounts with similar statements that they will catalog each people as one would encounter them when moving out from a fixed point. Aristagoras moves from the Ionians in the west to the city of Susa in the east, detailing each people as it occurs along the way.39 Likewise, Herodotus moves from east to west, starting with those Page 123 → Libyans living closest to Egypt in the east, and finishing with those Libyans living farthest to the west. Thus, Aristagoras begins: “They live next to one another as I will show: next to the Ionians, here, are the Lydians, here…” (κατοίκηνται δὲ ἀλλήλων ἐχόμενοι ὡς ἐγὼ φράσω, Ἰώνων μὲν τῶνδε οἵδε Λυδοί, 5.49.5). Herodotus begins: “The Libyans inhabit [their land] in the following order: Beginning from Egypt, the Adurmaxidai dwell as first of the Libyans…” (οἰκέουσι δὲ κατὰ τάδε Λίβυες. ἀπ’ Αἰγύπτου ἀρξάμενοι πρῶτοι Ἀδυρμαχίδαι Λιβύων κατοίκηνται, 4.168.1). Both occasionally remind their respective audiences in what direction, whether “to the east” or “to the west,” their catalogue of peoples is moving. Aristagoras, for example, says: “Next to the Lydians…are the Phrygians, here, those to the east…” (Λυδῶν δέ…οἵδε ἔχονται Φρύγες οἱ πρὸς τὴν ἠῶ, 5.49.5). Herodotus says: “Next to these are the Giligamai, who inhabit a land to the west” (τούτων δὲ ἔχονται Γιλιγάμαι, νεμόμενοι τὸ πρὸς ἑσπέρην χώρην, 4.169.1). In their catalogues, Aristagoras and Herodotus use similar vocabulary and phraseology. Both make frequent use of the middle voice of the verb ἔχειν, ἔχεσθαι, in the sense “be next to,” to indicate that one people borders upon another.40 They also use the phrase κατήκειν ἐπὶ θάλασσαν (“reach to the sea”) to indicate whether a people's

territory extends all the way to a given sea. Thus, Aristagoras says: “Next to the Phrygians are the Cappadocians…Their neighbors are the Cilicians, who reach to the sea, here…” (Φρυγῶν δὲ ἔχονται Καππαδόκαι…τούτοισι δὲ πρόσουροι Κίλικες, κατήκοντες ἐπὶ θάλασσαν τήνδε, 5.49.6). Herodotus says: “Next to the Giligamai…are the Asbustai. These live above Cyrene. But the Asbustai do not reach to the sea” (Γιλιγαμέων δὲ ἔχονται…Ἀσβύσται· οὗτοι ὑπὲρ Κυρήνης οἰκέουσι. ἐπὶ θάλασσαν δὲ οὐ κατήκουσι Ἀσβύσται, 4.170). Another similarity between the two is Aristagoras' use of a common Herodotean expression, which consists of a superlative followed by either the phrase “of those whom I know” (τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα) or the phrase “of those whom we know” (τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν).41 Aristagoras speaks of “…the Phrygians…who are the richest in flocks of all of those I know and the richest Page 124 → in produce.” (Φρύγες…πολυπροβατώτατοί τε ἐόντες πάντων τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα καὶ πολυκαρπότατοι, 5.49.5). Among Herodotus' many uses of this expression is one regarding the people of India: “The number of the Indians is by far the most of all the men we know…” (Ἰνδῶν δὲ πλῆθός…πολλῷ πλεῖστόν ἐστι πάντων τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν ἀνθρώπων, 3.94.2). Aristagoras even uses this expression in exactly the same ethnological context in which Herodotus often uses it, when calling attention to some remarkable characteristic that a people possesses. The very interest in superlatives that Aristagoras displays (πολυαργυρώτατοι, πολυπροβατώτατοι, πολυκαρπότατοι 5.49.5) is also a Herodotean feature. Herodotus is usually the one who points out to readers the superlative quality of people or things; here, Aristagoras does the same to Cleomenes.42 Aristagoras' account of Asian peoples as a whole (5.49.2–8) is also similar to Herodotus' account of Libyan peoples (4.168–99) in terms of context within the Histories. Both accounts occur in conjunction with a military conquest: Herodotus' account immediately precedes his narration of the Persians' failed attempt to conquer Libya (4.200–205), while Aristagoras' account is part of his failed attempt to convince Cleomenes and the Lacedaemonians to conquer Asia.43 The respective audiences for the two accounts, however, are quite different. Whereas Herodotus' (external) audience for his account of Libya is his readers, Aristagoras' (internal) audience for his account of Asia is Cleomenes—the very man who Aristagoras hopes will conquer the region he describes. Moreover, the different audiences significantly affect the content of the two accounts. Concerning Libya, Herodotus is intent only on persuading readers of the truth of what he says. But concerning Asia, Aristagoras is intent on persuading Cleomenes to take action—namely, to commit Sparta to a potentially disastrous war with Persia. Accordingly, Aristagoras has ample reason to distort the information he relates about Asia and the peoples who inhabit it in his need to make the prospect of conquering Asia seem as appealing as possible to Cleomenes. One of Aristagoras' main rhetorical strategies while using his map (5.49.5–7) is to draw Cleomenes' attention to the wealth of the various peoples Page 125 → of Asia. Indeed, Aristagoras prefaces the narration of his map with the following statement. ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἀγαθὰ τοῖσι τὴν ἤπειρον ἐκείνην νεμομένοισι ὅσα οὐδὲ τοῖσι συνάπασι ἄλλοισι, ἀπὸ χρυσοῦ ἀρξαμένοισι, ἄργυρος καὶ χαλκὸς καὶ ἐσθὴς ποικίλη καὶ ὑποζύγιά τε καὶ ἀνδράποδα· τὰ θυμῷ βουλόμενοι αὐτοὶ ἂν ἔχοιτε. [And the people who inhabit that land have as many good things as all other people put together have: starting with gold, they have silver, bronze, many-colored clothing, beasts of burden, and slaves. Whatever you wish for at heart, you [i.e., the Lacedaemonians] could have.] (5.49.4) Immediately after this, Aristagoras begins pointing out to Cleomenes various regions and peoples of Asia on his map (5.49.5–7).44 With the first two peoples he describes, Aristagoras uses superlatives to impress upon Cleomenes just how rich Asia is. The Lydians (who have “a good land” [χώρην ἀγαθὴν]) are “very rich in money” (πολυαργυρώτατοι), while the Phrygians are “very rich in flocks” (πολυπροβατώτατοι) and “very rich in produce” (πολυκαρπότατοι) (5.49.5).45 As we have seen, the Phrygians are actually the “richest” in flocks and produce of those whom Aristagoras “knows” (oida).

Aristagoras' concern for riches continues in the rest of his account (5.49.5–7). He notes that the Cilicians' yearly tribute paid to the King is 500 talents and that the Armenians are “rich in flocks” (πολυπρόβατοι), as well (5.49.6). Aristagoras concludes his account by singling out Susa as the place which contains “the treasure-houses of [the King's] wealth” (τῶν χρημάτων Page 126 → οἱ θησαυροί).46 He promises Cleomenes that the Lacedaemonians will “rival Zeus in wealth” (τῷ Διὶ πλούτου πέρι ἐρίζετε) if they capture this city (5.49.7). Although Cleomenes (the internal audience for Aristagoras' speech in 5.49) at least initially seems attracted by Aristagoras' promises of riches—again, only Gorgo's later intervention in 5.51.2 prevents Cleomenes from succumbing to Aristagoras' bribes—Herodotus' readers (the external audience of the speech in 5.49) would have found Aristagoras' hybristic suggestion that Cleomenes attempt to “rival” a god unsettling and foreboding.47 After his narration of the map, Aristagoras asks Cleomenes, at the very end of his speech (5.49.8), why the Lacedaemonians continue to struggle with their (poor) Peloponnesian rivals when the Lacedaemonians could conquer the (wealthy) Asians. The Lacedaemonians persist in fighting, says Aristagoras, “over land that is, as it seems, not large nor particularly good and over small borders” (περὶ…χώρης ἄρα οὐ πολλῆς οὐδὲ οὕτω χρηστῆς καὶ οὔρων σμικρῶν, 5.49.8). Moreover, the people with whom they fight—the Messenians, Arcadians, and Argives—“have neither gold nor silver” (τοῖσι οὔτε χρυσοῦ ἐχόμενόν ἐστι οὐδὲν οὔτε ἀργύρου) that would warrant the Lacedaemonians risking their lives in battle. Instead, Aristagoras ends, the Lacedaemonians could “easily rule over all of Asia” (τῆς Ἀσίης πάσης ἄρχειν εὐπετέως) and, he implies, possess all of Asia's vast riches. Aristagoras centers his entire presentation of his map, then, from beginning to end, on the theme of the wealth of Asia. This emphasis on wealth is a calculated choice on Aristagoras' part, as is his later attempt to bribe Cleomenes: Spartans, in antiquity, had a bad reputation for venality.48 Indeed, Aristagoras' brazen map itself, an intricately worked, precious metal Page 127 → artifact from Asia, is held out before the Spartan Cleomenes as part of the enticements of the East.49

Aristagoras' Map and Herodotus' Account of the Royal Road (5.52–54) In the wake of Aristagoras' encounter with Cleomenes (5.49–51), Herodotus exploits the graphic potential of Aristagoras' map in order to illustrate his own account of the Persian Royal Road (5.52–54). It does not seem that Herodotus accompanied his own work with a map.50 With the use to which he puts Aristagoras' map, however, Herodotus did not need to accompany his work with a real map that depicted the peoples and regions along the Royal Road.51 In Aristagoras' description of his map, Herodotus lets Aristagoras provide for him and for his readers a verbal map of the Royal Road. In 5.52 Herodotus himself picks up, as it were, where Aristagoras left off in 5.51. When Cleomenes walks away and Aristagoras is forced to depart from Sparta empty-handed, Herodotus notes that Aristagoras was unable to tell Cleomenes any more about the journey from Ionia to Susa (5.51.3). It is at this point that Herodotus says: “For concerning this road it is as follows…” (ἔχει γὰρ ἀμφὶ τῇ ὁδῷ ταύτῃ ὧδε…, 5.52.1). In his own voice as narrator, Herodotus proceeds to describe the course of the Royal Road (ἡ ὁδὸς ἡ βασιληίη, 5.53), which stretched from the Lydian city of Sardis in the west to the Elamite city of Susa in the east (5.52–54).52 For some forty lines, Herodotus details the distances between one point and another on the Royal Road. After he adds up the lengths of all these individual segments Page 128 → of the Royal Road and arrives at a sum total for the distance between Sardis and Susa, Herodotus offers the following addition. οὕτω τῷ Μιλησίῳ Ἀρισταγόρῃ εἴπαντι πρὸς Κλεομένεα τὸν Λακεδαιμόνιον εἶναι τριῶν μηνῶν τὴν ἄνοδον τὴν παρὰ βασιλέα ὀρθῶς εἴρητο. εἰ δέ τις τὸ ἀτρεκέστερον τούτων ἔτι δίζηται, ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω· τὴν γὰρ ἐξ Ἐφέσου ἐς Σάρδις ὁδὸν δεῖ προσλογίσασθαι ταύτῃ…οἱ γὰρ ἐξ Ἐφέσου ἐς Σάρδις εἰσὶ τεσσεράκοντα καὶ πεντακόσιοι στάδιοι, καὶ οὕτω τρισὶ ἡμέρῃσι μηκύνεται ἡ τρίμηνος ὁδός. [Thus Aristagoras of Miletus was correct when he told Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian that the journey inland to the King was of three months' duration. But if one seeks something still more accurate than these things, I will point this out also. For the journey from Ephesus to Sardis needs to be added to this [total of three months]…For from Ephesus to Sardis there are five hundred and forty

stades, and thus the three month journey is lengthened by three days.] (5.54.1, 2)

Herodotus' discussion of the Royal Road ends thus, with a look back at the account Aristagoras gave to Cleomenes with the help of his map. There is a very close correspondence between the places Aristagoras points to on his map (5.49) and the places Herodotus discusses in relation to the Royal Road (5.52–54). Except for the Ionians and the island of Cyprus, Herodotus mentions the eponymous region of every people that Aristagoras mentions.53 Moreover, Herodotus lists these regions, in exactly the same order as the different peoples appear in Aristagoras' list: Lydia, Phrygia, Cappadocia, Cilicia, Armenia, Matiene, and Cissia.54 The reason that Herodotus lavishes such attention on Aristagoras' description of his map in 5.49 is because the description helps animate Herodotus' account of the different stages of the Royal Road.55 Important Page 129 → in this regard is the demonstrative adjective ὅδε (“this [here]”), which Aristagoras frequently interjects into his account.56 Thanks to hode, the regions of Asia practically leap out before our eyes as Aristagoras points to them on his map: here is Lydia; here is Phrygia; here is Cappadocia. Consequently, when we get to Herodotus' account of the Royal Road in 5.52–54, we can better visualize the different regions through which this road winds. Herodotus has carefully shaped his description of Aristagoras' map, therefore, to conform to and to illustrate his own account of the Royal Road. He is not seeking to accurately reconstruct the map that Aristagoras brought to Sparta. The attempts by scholars to determine what Aristagoras' map may have looked like, at least based on Herodotus' account, are ultimately doomed to failure. Aristagoras may indeed have had a map in hand when he went to Sparta, but we cannot rely on the evidence from Herodotus' text to imagine the map's original appearance.57

Aristagoras' Speech to the Athenians (5.97.1–2) The intimate connection between Aristagoras' narration of his map in 5.49.5–7 and Herodotus' account of the Royal Road in 5.52–54 is brought into sharper relief when we examine another speech Aristagoras gives in Page 130 → the Histories—this time in Athens (5.97.1–2). After Cleomenes rejects Aristagoras' overtures and Aristagoras departs from Sparta (5.51), he goes to seek support for the Ionian Revolt from the Athenians. ἐπελθὼν δὲ ἐπὶ τὸν δῆμον ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης ταὐτὰ ἔλεγε τὰ καὶ ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ περὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἀσίῃ καὶ τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ Περσικοῦ, ὡς οὔτε ἀσπίδα οὔτε δόρυ νομίζουσι εὐπετέες τε χειρωθῆναι εἴησαν. ταῦτά τε δὴ ἔλεγε καὶ πρὸς τοῖσι τάδε, ὡς οἱ Μιλήσιοι τῶν Ἀθηναίων εἰσὶ ἄποικοι, καὶ οἰκός σφεας εἴη ῥύεσθαι δυναμένους μέγα. καὶ οὐδὲν ὅ τι οὐκ ὑπίσχετο οἷα κάρτα δεόμενος, ἐς ὃ ἀνέπεισέ σφεας. πολλοὺς γὰρ οἶκε εἶναι εὐπετέστερον διαβάλλειν ἢ ἕνα, εἰ Κλεομένεα μὲν τὸν Λακεδαιμόνιον μοῦνον οὐκ οἷός τε ἐγένετο διαβάλλειν, τρεῖς δὲ μυριάδας Ἀθηναίων ἐποίησε τοῦτο. [And when Aristagoras came before the people [of Athens], he said the same things that he said in Sparta about the good things in Asia and about the Persian style of warfare, how they customarily used neither shield nor spear and were easy to conquer. Now he said these things and the following in addition, that the Milesians were colonists of the Athenians, and that it was reasonable [for the Athenians], since they were very powerful, to rescue them. There was nothing that he did not promise, as he was very much in need, until he won them over. For it seems that it is easier to deceive many than one, if he was not able to deceive Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian alone, but he did it to thirty thousand Athenians.] (5.97.1–2) Herodotus' account of Aristagoras' speech in Athens is much briefer than his account of Aristagoras' speech to Cleomenes in Sparta. Aristagoras' speech in Athens, moreover, is reported by Herodotus completely in indirect discourse. It is thus harder to disentangle the narrator's voice from that of Aristagoras and to determine exactly what Herodotus is telling us that Aristagoras said in Athens.

From Herodotus' statement that Aristagoras “said the same things that he said in Sparta” (ταὐτὰ ἔλεγε τὰ καὶ ἐν τῇ Σπάρτῃ, 5.97.1), it may seem that Aristagoras, map in hand, simply repeated to the Athenians what he had said to Cleomenes.58 But Herodotus' next words clarify what he means Page 131 → by “the same things:” Aristagoras told the Athenians, much as he did Cleomenes, “about the good things in Asia and about the Persian style of warfare” (περὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἀσίῃ καὶ τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ Περσικοῦ). Concerning the latter topic, Herodotus elaborates that Aristagoras told the Athenians “how they [i.e., the Persians] customarily used neither shield nor spear and were easy to conquer” (ὡς οὔτε ἀσπίδα οὔτε δόρυ νομίζουσι εὐπετέες τε χειρωθῆναι εἴησαν). Upon closer inspection, then, it seems that Herodotus is actually using the phrase “the same things” (ταὐτὰ) rather loosely, for he subtly alters what Aristagoras said in Athens from what he said in Sparta.59 In both speeches, Aristagoras does speak “about the good things in Asia” (περὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἀσίῃ, 5.97.1) (cf. ἀγαθὰ, 5.49.4). Only in his speech in Athens, however, does Aristagoras speak “about the Persian style of warfare” (περὶ…τοῦ πολέμου τοῦ Περσικοῦ). We have seen that Aristagoras goes out of his way not to mention the Persians or Medes in his speech to Cleomenes. Perhaps Herodotus' mention of the Persians in 5.97.1 represents the narrator's gloss on the particular “style of warfare” (πολέμου) Aristagoras described in Athens, or perhaps Aristagoras did in fact mention the Persians in his Athenian speech, unlike in his Spartan one. In both speeches, Aristagoras also says that the Persians/barbarians “are easy to conquer” (εὐπετέες…χειρωθῆναι εἴησαν, 5.97.1) (cf. εὐπετέες χειρωθῆναί εἰσι, 5.49.4). But, as Herodotus relates it, Aristagoras' description of Persian/barbarian military equipment in the two speeches differs. In his speech to the Athenians, Aristagoras says the Persians “customarily use neither shield nor spear” (οὔτε ἀσπίδα οὔτε δόρυ νομίζουσι, 5.97.1). He thus characterizes the νόμος (“custom”)—to use the noun cognate with the verb νομίζειν—of Persian warfare by saying what it is not: it is not like the Greek custom of fighting, in which both shield (ἀσπίς) and spear (δόρυ) were used.60 We saw earlier, however, that in his Spartan speech (5.49), Aristagoras Page 132 → focuses on barbarian, not Greek, equipment. He tries to convey to Cleomenes the weakness of the barbarians as soldiers by the strange equipment they do have, not by what they do not have.61 In the two speeches, then, Aristagoras employs contrasting methods to discuss foreign military equipment. The most striking difference between the two speeches, however, concerns Aristagoras' use of his map. In the one speech, Aristagoras clearly uses the map; in the other speech, he does not.62 There are only three elements in Aristagoras' speech to the Athenians: Aristagoras first in 5.97.1 mentions the “good things in Asia” and “the Persian style of warfare,” then in 5.97.2 “the Milesians” (οι Μιλήσιοι), whom, Aristagoras argues, the powerful Athenians should help since the former are Athenian colonists.63 The first two elements are also found in Aristagoras' speech to Cleomenes; the last element is one that Aristagoras has inserted for its appeal to a specifically Athenian audience.64 There is no indication that Aristagoras uses his map as a visual aid in his speech to the Athenians. Moreover, in his speech to Page 133 → Cleomenes, Aristagoras' mention of the “good things” that Asia possesses and of barbarian “warfare” (5.49.3–4) both occur before his description of his map (5.49.5–7). When he speaks to the Athenians, Aristagoras jumps straight from the topic of “warfare” (5.97.1) to the “Milesians” (5.97.2). There is thus no room in Aristagoras' Athenian speech for a narration of his map similar to the one he delivered in Sparta.65 Why then does Herodotus depict Aristagoras using a map in Sparta, but not in Athens? It may be that Herodotus' sources indicated that Aristagoras used the map to accompany his speech in one place, but not in the other. Accordingly, Herodotus' accounts of the two speeches simply reflect this fact. But this still does not explain why Herodotus describes Aristagoras' speech to Cleomenes in such great detail, while he reports Aristagoras' speech to the Athenians in the form of a condensed summary. Herodotus could have related Aristagoras' second speech, just as he did the first, in direct, rather than indirect, discourse.66 The reason Herodotus devotes so much attention to Aristagoras' speech to Cleomenes is due to the presence of Aristagoras' map in the story of this speech. The story of Aristagoras' speech to the Athenians, which contained no map, consequently required less attention by Herodotus because he did not need to depict Aristagoras describing his map in this story.67 As we have seen, Herodotus found the map with which Aristagoras points out to Cleomenes the regions of Asia very useful for his own authorial purposes; he presses Aristagoras' description of his map (5.49.5–7) into service as a means of both introducing and illustrating his own account of the Royal Road (5.52–54). Page 134 →

Aristagoras' Account vs. Herodotus' Account of the Royal Road Not only does Herodotus appropriate Aristagoras' map and attach it to his account of the Royal Road, but he also sets his later account of this road against the one Aristagoras has given to Cleomenes of the journey from Ionia to Susa. As soon as Herodotus informs readers that Aristagoras was unable to tell Cleomenes any more about this journey, Herodotus himself launches into a description of the Royal Road. At first glance, Herodotus appears to build upon Aristagoras' account. The information that Herodotus supplies about the total length of the Royal Road seems to be a supplement to Aristagoras' account of the journey east to Susa.68 We have seen, however, that Aristagoras' description of his map is really Herodotus' own. As Aristagoras details the peoples one would encounter on the way to Susa, he is actually speaking on behalf of Herodotus. Moreover, the word that Herodotus uses to refer to Aristagoras' correctness, (ὀρθῶς, 5.54.1), is a key word in Herodotus' critical vocabulary, one that he shares, as Rosalind Thomas (2000) demonstrates, with contemporary scientific thinkers, such as the Hippocratics. Herodotus often uses the word in a negative sense, when he is engaging in polemic with his sources.69 He criticizes those who are not thinking or speaking orthōs, “rightly” or “correctly.” His claim that Aristagoras is speaking “rightly” implies that Herodotus himself, who uses Aristagoras' description as a linchpin for his own account, is also speaking “rightly.” No sooner has Herodotus commended Aristagoras, however, than he corrects him. To be “more accurate” (ἀτρεκέστερον, 5.54.1), the journey from Ionia to Susa is not three months long, but actually three months and three days. Here, Herodotus uses yet another key word in his own critical vocabulary, ἀτρεκής, (“accurate”).70 Herodotus' method of dealing with Aristagoras seen in 5.54.1, that of first associating himself with Aristagoras and then distancing himself from him, can be witnessed elsewhere in 5.49–54. We have already seen how the language that Aristagoras uses in his ethnological account of the peoples of Asia mirrors in many ways Herodotus' own ethnographical language. But Page 135 → Herodotus even employs the same word to refer to Aristagoras' “account” as he does his own. ὁ δὲ ὑπαρπάσας τὸν ἐπίλοιπον λόγον τὸν ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης ὅρμητο λέγειν περὶ τῆς ὁδοῦ, εἶπε· Ὦ ξεῖνε Μιλήσιε, ἀπαλλάσσεο ἐκ Σπάρτης πρὸ δύντος ἡλίου· οὐδένα γὰρ λόγον εὐεπέα λέγεις Λακεδαιμονίοισι, ἐθέλων σφέας ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τριῶν μηνῶν ὁδὸν ἀγαγεῖν. [Cleomenes interrupted the rest of the account (logos) that Aristagoras was beginning to tell about the road and said, “Milesian guest, depart from Sparta before sundown; for you tell no account pleasing to Lacedaemonians, wanting to lead them on a three months' journey away from the sea.”] (5.50.3) Aristagoras' “account” is a λόγος. Except for the proem to the Histories, in which Herodotus calls his work a ἱστορίης ἀπόδεξις, (“display of inquiry”), Herodotus always refers to his work as either a logos or logoi.71 The key detail concerning Aristagoras' logos, however, is that it is “interrupted” (ὑπαρπάσας) by Cleomenes. Aristagoras, thus, is unable to continue his logos. By contrast, Herodotus does continue his own logos long after Aristagoras has failed to finish his. In much the same way, Herodotus uses another word of both himself and Aristagoras, σημαίνειν (“point out”). Herodotus tells us that “…Aristagoras departed altogether from Sparta, and it was not possible for him to point out any more about the journey inland to the King” (…ὁ Ἀρισταγόρης ἀπαλλάσσετο τὸ παράπαν ἐκ τῆς Σπάρτης, οὐδέ οἱ ἐξεγένετο ἐπὶ πλέον ἔτι σημῆναι περὶ τῆς ἀνόδου τῆς παρὰ βασιλέα, 5.51.3). Shortly afterward, however, Herodotus says: “But if one seeks something still more accurate than these things, I will point this out also” (εἰ δέ τις τὸ ἀτρεκέστερον τούτων ἔτι δίζηται, ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω, 5.54.1). The root meaning of the verb σημαίνειν is “show by a σῆμα (a “sign”)”; this meaning then becomes “point out” or “indicate.”72 Herodotus often uses this verb of himself as an inquirer, when he is “pointing out” information to his readers.73 Aristagoras Page 136 → is like Herodotus, then, because he too is “pointing out” information to Cleomenes. The word σημαίνειν takes on an added significance in Aristagoras' case because he actually is “pointing” to a σῆμα: his map.74 Aristagoras' map is a sēma, a “sign,” in that it signifies something other than itself.75 The map signifies the earth, especially that part of the earth controlled by the Persians. In addition, Aristagoras himself is a

sēma in that he signifies the inquirer Herodotus in his guise as geographer and ethnographer. When Herodotus says that he can point out more to his readers than Aristagoras could to Cleomenes, he implies not only that he is a better inquirer than Aristagoras, but that he can beat Aristagoras at his own game: showing his readers a fuller and more accurate view of the Royal Road. Thus, whereas Aristagoras must leave Sparta without being able to point out any more about the journey from Ionia to Susa, Herodotus will happily point out to us more about this same journey, and even correct Aristagoras' account while doing so. The reason why Aristagoras' logos is interrupted, and why he is unable to point out more of his account to Cleomenes ultimately rests on the medium Aristagoras has chosen for his account. Aristagoras' logos is oral in nature. Thus, Aristagoras requires a live audience to listen to his account. When Cleomenes walks away from Aristagoras a second and final time (5.51.3), Aristagoras is reduced to speechlessness and departs from Sparta in exasperation.76 Without Cleomenes present, Aristagoras' logos cannot continue. Herodotus' logos, on the other hand, is literary.77 While it is possible that Page 137 → Herodotus gave public readings of at least part of the Histories before he published the entire work in written form, the version of the Histories that we have is the final written one.78 And it is this version that Herodotus contrasts with Aristagoras' account. Unlike Aristagoras' oral account, Herodotus' literary account is not dependent on a live audience. As such, no one can interrupt Herodotus' written logos but Herodotus himself.79 The superior (literary) form of his logos further sets Herodotus the inquirer apart from Aristagoras.80 Not only is the medium Aristagoras chooses for his logos inferior to that of Herodotus' logos, but the method with which Aristagoras presents his material is flawed, as well. Bound up with Aristagoras' faulty method is his misjudgment of his audience.81 We posed earlier the question why Aristagoras uses a map to accompany his speech to Cleomenes (5.49), but not to accompany his speech to the Athenians (5.97). Let us posit here two reasons why Aristagoras chose to use his map in Sparta, but not in Athens. First, the map would not have been an effective visual aid before an audience of thousands of Athenian citizens; the map would have simply been too small for them to see.82 Words in the form of an oral speech would have been the only practical way to persuade such a large, live audience. Second, Aristagoras believed his map would be an effective tool with which to persuade Cleomenes, precisely because Cleomenes was a Lacedaemonian.83 Page 138 → He believed a physical, concrete object such as the map would be more compelling than mere words to a notoriously “laconic” citizen of Sparta like Cleomenes.84 But Aristagoras seriously misreads Cleomenes. For it is he who detects the flaw in Aristagoras' description of his map and who uses this flaw to thwart Aristagoras' attempt to deceive him.85 When describing his map, Aristagoras focuses exclusively on the spatial. Aristagoras' narrative moves inexorably toward the East, as he points out to Cleomenes on his map the peoples who inhabit Asia from Ionia to Susa. The map itself is a representation of space in condensed form. It is up to Cleomenes to spot what is lacking in Aristagoras' presentation: Aristagoras completely omits the temporal.86 Cleomenes' concern for time is indicated in his first words to Aristagoras, once the latter has finished his speech (5.49–2-8): “Milesian guest, I [will] put off answering you for three days” (Ὦ ξεῖνε Μιλήσιε, ἀναβάλλομαί τοι ἐς τρίτην ἡμέρην ὑποκρινέεσθαι, 5.49.9). Herodotus reports that when three days had passed, Cleomenes asked Aristagoras “how many days' journey it was from the sea of the Ionians to the Page 139 → King[‘s abode in Susa]” (ὁκοσέων ἡμερέων ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τῆς Ἰώνων ὁδὸς εἴη παρὰ βασιλέα, 5.50.1). Faced with a question regarding time, Aristagoras admits that the journey takes three months (5.50.2). Cleomenes angrily orders Aristagoras to leave Sparta “before sundown” (πρὸ δύντος ἡλίου) and chastises him for “wanting to lead [the Lacedaemonians] on a three months' journey away from the sea” (ἐθέλων σφέας ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τριῶν μηνῶν ὁδὸν ἀγαγεῖν, 5.50.3).87 For the purposes of his deception, Aristagoras has the misfortune of encountering someone in Cleomenes who is as resolutely focused on time as Aristagoras himself is on space.88 In contrast to Aristagoras' account of the journey eastward to Susa, Herodotus' account of the Royal Road (5.52–53)—along with his account of the journey from Ionia (esp. Ephesus) to Sardis (5.54)—includes both spatial and temporal spheres.89 He lists the regions of Asia through which the road stretches, and he notes landmarks along the road—both natural features such as rivers, and man-made features such as σταθμοί (“stations”).90 By calculating the distances between the many different stathmoi spaced out along the road, Herodotus eventually arrives at a sum total for the area covered by the road in both Persian parasangs

(παρασάγγαι) and Greek stades (στάδιοι) (5.53, 5.54.2). He also considers the time required to travel the entire road: he calculates that the journey from Sardis to Susa would take “ninety days” (ἡμέραι…ἐνενήκοντα, 5.53) or “three months” (τριῶν μηνῶν, 5.54.1), while the journey from Ephesus to Sardis would take an additional “three days” (τρισὶ ἡμέρῃσι, 5.54.2). The emphatically placed last Page 140 → words of Herodotus' account of the Royal Road, moreover, are “the three-month journey” (ἡ τρίμηνος ὁδός). Herodotus' account is thus superior to Aristagoras' in that the former presents the journey to Susa not as one solely through space, but also as one through time.91 There is a striking difference, as well, between the ways that Herodotus and Aristagoras relate to the respective audiences of their accounts. Aristagoras, as we have seen, underestimates Cleomenes' ability to detect the flaw in his method of presentation; in effect, Aristagoras does not know his audience very well. Herodotus, however, seems to know exactly what his audience wants, and he strives to give it to them. After an impersonal opening to his account in which Herodotus notes that the Royal Road passes from Lydia to Phrygia (5.52.1), he subtly draws the reader as a participant into his account. At the Halys River, says Herodotus, there are “gates” (πύλαι), “which there is every necessity to pass through and so to cross the river…” (τὰς διεξελάσαι πᾶσα ἀνάγκη καὶ οὕτω διεκπερᾶν τὸν ποταμόν, 5.52.2). If one were personally traveling this road, Herodotus implies, then one would have to perform the actions expressed by the infinitives, διεξελάσαι and διεκπερᾶν. In the very next sentence, Herodotus calls upon the reader more clearly. “For one crossing into Cappadocia,” says Herodotus, “and for one making his way on this road up to the Cilician border” (διαβάντι δὲ ἐς τὴν Καππαδοκίην καὶ ταύτῃ πορευομένῳ μέχρι οὔρων τῶν Κιλικίων), there are 28 stathmoi and 104 parasangs. The datives διαβάντι and πορευομένῳ refer to the reader as a traveler on the road. In the next sentence, Herodotus finally addresses the reader directly: “At the Cilician border, you will pass through two gates and will pass by two guard-posts” (ἐπὶ δὲ τοῖσι τούτων οὔροισι διξάς τε πύλας διεξελᾷς καὶ διξὰ φυλακτήρια παραμείψεαι). The reader is the second-person singular of the verbs διεξελᾷς and παραμείψεαι.92 In these three sentences, Herodotus progressively escalates the involvement of the reader in the narrative. With the next sentence, however, Herodotus Page 141 → reverts back to referring to the reader in the dative case (διεξελάσαντι, ποιευμένῳ, 5.52.3), and the dative proves to be Herodotus' favored way of referring to the reader throughout the rest of his account of the Royal Road.93 In addition, he uses once more the phrase “every necessity” (πᾶσα ἀνάγκη) with an infinitive (διαπορθμεῦσαι, 5.52.4) to indicate something that the reader/traveler would be required to do on the road. In a somewhat related vein, Herodotus applies the adjective νηυσιπέρητος (“navigable”) three times (5.52.3, 4, 6) to rivers on which a person, if he should so choose, could travel by boat.94 Finally, Herodotus uses the impersonal pronoun τις (“one/someone/anyone”) to refer to a reader (5.54.1).95 And it is in this last example that the character of Herodotus' imagined reader is plainly revealed. Readers of the Histories share Herodotus' interest in inquiry; they want to know about things as much as he does. After he concludes that Aristagoras told Cleomenes “correctly” (orthōs) that it was a three-month journey to Susa, Herodotus says: “But if one seeks something still more accurate than these things, I will point this out also” (εἰ δέ τις τὸ ἀτρεκέστερον τούτων ἔτι δίζηται, ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω, 5.54.1). The reader (τις) “seeks” or “searches out” (δίζησθαι) information.96 Herodotus uses this same verb (and its compound Page 142 → ἐπιδίζησθαι) to refer to the propensity of his own logos (i.e., the Histories) to “search” for material.97 What Herodotus' readers are “seeking” is the most “accurate” (atrekēs) account possible, and Herodotus tries to give this to them. Herodotus' readers, then, are a reflection of the inquirer himself. By contrast, Cleomenes, the audience for Aristagoras' account, does not even let Aristagoras finish his logos; he is not interested at all in hearing everything Aristagoras has to say about the journey to Susa. In the contest for which inquirer relates to his audience the best, Herodotus wins hands down over Aristagoras. To cap off his account, Herodotus reminds his readers exactly who is providing them with the “more accurate” (ἀτρεκέστερον) information they seek about the Royal Road: “I am.” Throughout his account of Aristagoras' encounter with Cleomenes (5.49–51) and throughout his own account of the Royal Road (5.52–54), Herodotus never refers to himself in the first person until the very end. If readers want something more accurate than Aristagoras' determination that the journey to Susa takes three months, says Herodotus, “I will point this out also” (ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω, 5.54.1). The first-person personal pronoun ἐγώ is unnecessary here, but highly emphatic.

In the next sentence, Herodotus declares: “And I say that all the stades from the Greek sea to Susa” (καὶ δὴ λέγω σταδίους εἶναι τοὺς πάντας ἀπὸ θαλάσσης τῆς Ἑλληνικῆς μέχρι Σούσων) are fourteen thousand and forty (5.54.2). With the first person, Herodotus lets his readers know that it is he, not Aristagoras, who is the better, “more accurate” inquirer.98 Herodotus' application of the adjective ἀτρεκής in 5.54.1 to the competition between his logos about the Royal Road and Aristagoras' logos is particularly suggestive. Pierre Chantraine (1968, 135) argues that the original Page 143 → meaning of ἀτρεκής was “not turned, not crooked, straight, correct” (non tourné, non tordu, droit, exact), as Paul Cartledge and Emily Greenwood (2002, 362) remark. The etymology that Chantraine…suggests for the adjective atrekēs emphasizes the idea of ‘being on track’, as opposed to misleading information, which strays from the path of truth. Herodotus' predilection for atrekeia…suggest[s] the image of the ‘logōn hodos', the route of the logoi which Herodotus traces in the course of his account…99 Herodotus uses the phrase λόγων ὁδοί (“ways/paths/roads of stories”) only once in his work, but such an idea seems to be implied in two other passages.100 If there are “paths of stories,” then Herodotus as inquirer must travel these paths. He must decide which hodos (“path”) is most atrekēs (“straight/correct”), and so which “path” will most likely lead him to the truth about a certain topic.101 Both Herodotus and Aristagoras are metaphorical travelers on the Royal Road.102 Or, rather, as inquirers, they travel the logōn hodoi (“paths of stories”) concerning this road.103 Herodotus assures his readers, Page 144 → however, that he has chosen a more atrekēs path than Aristagoras has. By following Herodotus on this path, readers can thus be confident, in a way that Cleomenes cannot, that instead of being led astray about the Royal Road they will arrive at the truth.104

Aristagoras and Truth Indeed, in 5.49–54, the most significant difference between Herodotus and Aristagoras is the way that each of them relates to truth. While Herodotus presents himself to readers, in general, as committed to reporting the truth, Aristagoras is trying his best in 5.49–51 to deceive Cleomenes. Aristagoras tries to deceive both with the specific words he uses and with the specific way he uses his map. The deceptive intent behind Aristagoras' overall presentation is emphatically brought to readers' attention, moreover, by Herodotus' authorial comment that Aristagoras was “deceiving Cleomenes well” (5.50.2). Regarding his map, Aristagoras hopes that Cleomenes will both misread and misunderstand it. In his attempt to persuade the Lacedaemonians that they can easily manage an invasion of the vast Persian Empire, Aristagoras aims for the map to provide a kind of optical illusion, by which the distance between the Ionian Sea and the city of Susa will appear much shorter than it actually is.105 Christian Jacob (1988, 289) remarks upon the effect Aristagoras intends for his map to have. Page 145 → the miniaturization of space plays a persuasive role in this scene, since it tends to demonstrate that an expedition crossing Asia Minor is as simple and as quick as the movement of the eye or the finger over the map.106 As we have seen, however, Cleomenes foils Aristagoras' deceptive use of his map by asking about the exact length of the journey. It is at the very point in the episode where his attempt to win over Cleomenes first breaks down (5.50.2) that Aristagoras' deception is most clearly delineated for readers. After Aristagoras has described his map, Cleomenes asks his critical question regarding “time,” that is, how long the journey to Susa will take. It is at this point that Herodotus writes the following. ὁ δὲ Ἀρισταγόρης, τἆλλα ἐὼν σοφὸς καὶ διαβάλλων ἐκεῖνον εὖ, ἐν τούτῳ ἐσφάλη· χρεὸν γάρ μιν μὴ

λέγειν τὸ ἐόν, βουλόμενόν γε Σπαρτιήτας ἐξαγαγεῖν ἐς τὴν Ἀσίην, λέγει δ’ ὦν τριῶν μηνῶν φὰς εἶναι τὴν ἄνοδον.

[And Aristagoras, although he was clever in all other respects and was deceiving that man well, in this made a mistake. For whereas he should not have told the truth if he wished to lead the Spartans out into Asia, he did tell it, saying that it was a journey inland of three months.] (5.50.2) There are four elements in this passage that deserve attention: the adjective σοφός, the phrase διαβάλλων…εὖ, the verb σφάλλεσθαι, and the phrase τὸ ἐόν. Just as Herodotus praises Aristagoras' near accuracy concerning the length of the journey from Ionia to Susa (5.54.1), Herodotus ironically praises Aristagoras again in 5.50.2. He says that Aristagoras was τἆλλα…σοφός (“clever in all other respects”). The adjective sophos (“clever/intelligent/wise”) is an ambiguous term in Herodotus' work, as well as in Greek Page 146 → in general.107 As Rosaria Munson (2001b, 138; cf. 1986, 103n.34) observes, Herodotus uses sophos and the cognate noun sophiē to refer both to individual characters and to whole peoples. Sophie constitutes a conspicuous field of ethnographic evaluation. It is a diverse quality that may include resourcefulness, practical or theoretical intelligence, learning, or wisdom; when it is attributed to societies, it lacks the ethical dark side it occasionally connotes in individuals. By calling Aristagoras sophos, then, Herodotus does not necessarily imply that he approves of Aristagoras' actions in 5.49–51. In fact, Herodotus expressly characterizes Aristagoras' actions as a deception. He says that Aristagoras was “deceiving [Cleomenes] well” (διαβάλλων ἐκεῖνον εὖ). We have seen that this is the same verb Herodotus uses in 5.97.2, when he concludes: “For it seems that it is easier to deceive (diaballein) many than one, if [Aristagoras] was not able to deceive (diaballein) Cleomenes the Lacedaemonian alone, but he did it to thirty thousand Athenians.”108 And yet Herodotus says in 5.50.2 that Aristagoras was “deceiving well” (diaballōn eu). Although the verb diaballein has several different meanings in the Histories, this is the only example in which it occurs with a qualifying adverb.109 The adverb eu (“well”), therefore, is remarkable in itself, but it is even more remarkable because it creates a virtual oxymoron with the participle diaballōn (“deceiving”). What does it mean for the inquirer Herodotus to compliment someone on how “well” they are “deceiving” an audience? On the one hand, the comment associates Aristagoras with Herodotus. Both are doing something “well”: Aristagoras is deceiving well, while Herodotus, as he presents himself to his readers, is practicing inquiry well. On the other hand, the comment distances the two Page 147 → from one another. The very thing that Aristagoras is doing well—that is, deceiving—is the exact opposite of what an inquirer should be doing. Moreover, with the phrase “deceiving well” (διαβάλλων…εὖ), Herodotus intrudes into his narrative in order to guide his readers in their evaluation of Aristagoras' actions in 5.49–51. Once again, Herodotus brings the weapon of irony to bear against Aristagoras, an authorial strategy that Schellenberg (2009, 142–43) illuminates. [i]rony is a delicate matter: if one is too explicit, clever subtlety quickly degenerates into dull and artless polemic; if one is too subtle, the barb easily goes unnoticed. The trick, then, is to provide one's readers with sufficient cues without being overbearing—that is, to give one's readers the satisfaction of “discovering” the irony themselves while also ensuring that they take the time to look for it. Thus Herodotus's ironic use of discourse is necessarily a matter of winks and elbow nudges, small cues that prompt readers of these speeches to disengage somewhat from their identification with the intradiegetic audience [i.e., Cleomenes in 5.49–51] and thereby make room for their own extradiegetic evaluative perspective. The most explicit of such cues are Herodotus's metanarrative interventions—glosses in the narrator's own voice which guide the reader in interpretation…110

One such metanarrative intervention is Herodotus' comment on Aristagoras' “deceiving Cleomenes well” (5.50.2). With this comment, Herodotus lets his readers (the external audience) in on a secret, a secret to which Cleomenes (the internal audience) is not privy. Readers can thus take an ironical stance on Aristagoras' actions in 5.49–51 because they now possess (even more) knowledge than Cleomenes possesses. Unlike Cleomenes, readers now know that everything that Aristagoras has done up to 5.50.2—including Aristagoras' narration of his map in 5.49.5–7—has been done with deceptive intentions. Page 148 → According to Herodotus, Aristagoras' deception is foiled when he makes the mistake (σφάλλεσθαι) of telling Cleomenes the truth (τὸ ἐόν) about the actual length of the journey to Susa. The literal meaning of sphallesthai is “be tripped up,” as in wrestling, and so “make a mistake,” while the phrase to eon is literally “that which is,” and so “the truth” or “reality.”111 In effect, Aristagoras wrestles with truth and loses. The mistake he makes is forgetting what kind of an inquirer he is. Aristagoras is not a real inquirer, but is only playing the part in an attempt to deceive Cleomenes. His deception is “tripped up,” however, because he tells the truth.112 For a conscientious inquirer like Herodotus, telling the truth is hardly a mistake; it is an obligation. But for a deceiver like Aristagoras the truth proves disastrous. By Herodotus' logic, then, the deceiver Aristagoras is as mistaken in telling Cleomenes the truth as an inquirer like Herodotus would be in deceiving his readers.

Conclusion The encounter between Aristagoras and Cleomenes in 5.49–51 can be read as an object lesson in the historiographical use and misuse of knowledge. Herodotus admits that Aristagoras, while using his bronze map of the world as a visual aid, is “correct” (ὀρθῶς, 5.54.1) in the basic geographical and ethnological information that he presents to Cleomenes. And yet Aristagoras fundamentally distorts that information with a rhetorical agenda that stresses the wealth of the peoples of Asia and the ease with which the Lacedaemonians could conquer those peoples. So deceptive (διαβάλλων, 5.50.2) are Aristagoras' motives that when “the truth” (τὸ ἐόν, 5.50.2) accidentally Page 149 → creeps into his account, his logos comes to a complete halt. Herodotus pointedly juxtaposes his own account of the Persian Royal Road in 5.52–54 to Aristagoras' failed account and implies in the contrast that this is how one does a geographical and ethnographical logos properly. He shows readers in 5.52–54 how Aristagoras could have used his knowledge had Aristagoras chosen, like Herodotus, the “straight” (ἀτρεκέστερον, 5.54.1) path toward truth. Indeed, by reusing Aristagoras' description of his map (5.49.5–7) to illustrate his own account of the Royal Road (5.52–54), Herodotus demonstrates again how information—in this case, the information conveyed by the map—should be used by an inquirer. Finally, the manner in which Aristagoras misuses knowledge in his encounter with Cleomenes in 5.49–51 allows Herodotus, by way of contrast, to establish in the minds of his readers what he himself is striving to do as an inquirer: to present information—in the most truthful and unbiased way that he can—to all those readers who just like himself earnestly “seek” (δίζηται, 5.54.1) after knowledge. 1. The exact date of Aristagoras’ visit to Sparta—if the episode is indeed historical—is uncertain. Macan 1895, 188 dates Aristagoras’ visit either to the winter of 500/499 BCE “at the earliest,” or to the winter of 499/98 “at latest”; Burn 1984, 198 and Murray 1988, 482 opt for the latter date, while Dewald 1998a, 671 says that the visit “probably” occurred in 498. The exact chronology of the events in the Ionian Revolt as a whole (500 or 499–94 or 493) is problematic as well. See Murray, esp. 480–90; Briant 2002, 146–56; Scott 2005, 457–65. 2. Admittedly, Chiasson 2003, 16; Rood 2006a, 294–96; and Pelling 2007, 195–201, esp. 196–97 all note a correspondence between Aristagoras in 5.49–51 and Herodotus (esp. in 5.52–54). For example, Chiasson says of Aristagoras: “This irresponsible charlatan (as Herodotus portrays him) misrepresents himself to the Spartan king Cleomenes as a full-fledged practitioner of ἱστορίη, complete with a map of the earth and the idiom of the trade.” None of these three scholars, however, fully explores the complexity of this correspondence, nor do they appreciate exactly how Herodotus uses the activities of Aristagoras in 5.49–51 to help construct his own authoritative authorial persona.

3. In 5.49.1, the significance of the source citation, “as Lacedaemonians say” (ὡς Λακεδαιμόνιοι λέγουσι), is unclear. It is possible that the citation qualifies the very detail that Aristagoras brought a bronze map of the world with him to Sparta: the Lacedaemonians (but no one else) say that Aristagoras did this. Cf. Nenci 1994, 223. Perhaps, however, Herodotus includes the citation merely to indicate where he got his information: he heard this story from the Lacedaemonians. Cf. Macan 1895, 188. On Herodotus’ referring to national groups as sources, see esp. Luraghi 2001b; 2006, 81–85 (cf. Fowler 1996, 80–86; Shrimpton and Gillis 1997; Hornblower 2002, 378–80). See further chapter 1, 34–36. Perhaps instead the citation is meant to underline the reliability of the episode; the implication would then be that the Lacedaemonians, who should know what happened in their land, tell this story. Regardless of what the source citation in 5.49.1 indicates, it is important to note that at no point does Herodotus explicitly question the episode’s historicity. Cf. Pelling 2007, 184n.18, who holds that “the story [regarding Aristagoras and his map] moves in a realistic register whether or not it is historically true.” Contra Purves 2010, 137, who stresses the distancing effect that Herodotus achieves by the source citation in 5.49.1: “the text’s (invisible) display of the map’s total visibility is narrated indirectly, as a second-remove logos first told by the Lacedaemonians.” 4. See Myres 1953, 34–37; Dilke 1985, 23–24; Jacob 1988, 283–89. 5. See DK (Diels and Kranz 1951) 12A1, 12A6. On Anaximander’s map, see Nenci 1994, 223–24; Hahn 2001, esp. 202–10; Couprie 2003, 194–201; Naddaf 2003, 48–55; Munn 2006, 184–88; Purves 2010, 108–10; Irby 2012, 89–90. Cf. Cole 2010, 204: “There was no special word for map in ancient Greek. Pinax for Anaximander referred to the physical object on which a map could be drawn, not to a map’s symbolic status as a representation.” 6. DK (Diels and Kranz 1951) 12A11, 12A25. On the cylindricality of Anaximander’s earth, see Couprie 2003, 173–79. 7. Based on Anaximander’s conception of the earth as columnar, Couprie 2003, 194 invites us to imagine Anaximander (at least initially?) “drawing his map on the surface of a real column drum.” 8. See, for example, Lloyd 1979, 169. Contra Naddaf 2003, 52 (cf. Nenci 1994, 224), who suggests that Anaximander’s map may have been detailed similarly to Aristagoras’ map, the latter of which, Naddaf (cf. Irby 2012, 106n.24) argues, was so detailed as to have the Royal Road depicted on it. Johnston 1967 (contra Brodersen 1995, 141–42) discusses examples of Ionian-style maps engraved on metal that are actually extant: the design on the reverse of a series of silver and bronze tetradrachms from Ionia dating to the fourth century BCE is a topographical map of the area around Ephesus. The maps depicted on the coins feature both raised areas to represent recognizable mountain ridges, complete with valleys and rivers, and stippling (apparently) to represent forests; absent from these maps, however, are cities, such as Ephesus, and roads, such as the Persian Royal Road. According to Johnston 92, “[t]he reasons for the omissions may have been in part technical: the difficulty of marking a town clearly on such a small scale map would be considerable, and the same applies to marking the roads. The rivers were easier to show in that the valleys were there already to put them in. However, the omissions could also have been a deliberate part of the conception of the type: the authority responsible was perhaps more concerned with showing the territory under his jurisdiction, or the area he claimed to possess, even if he did not in fact do so, than human additions to the landscape.” 9. See DK (Diels and Kranz 1951) 12A1, 12A6. 10. The translations are those of Fowler 2006, 39. Fowler 45n.53 cautions that none of the titles recorded for the works of early authors like Hecataeus are likely to originate with the authors themselves. 11. Contra Zimmermann 1997, who maintains that Hecateaus’ geographical view was tripartite (EuropeAsia-Libya). On Hecataeus in general, see von Fritz 1967b, 48–76; Bertelli 2001. On Hecataeus’ Periegesis and map in particular, see Pearson 1939, 27–96; Purves 2010, 110–11; Irby 2012, 90–91. 12. Pearson 1939, 30; Rihll 1999, 89. Von Fritz 1967b, 52–53, however, stresses the differences between Hecataeus’ Periegesis and the genre of the periplous. On periploi, see Dilke 1985, 130–44. 13. Cf. Purves 2010, 109, cf. 133, who says of the Shield of Achilles in Iliad 18: “the Shield, a circular [emphasis added] object showing different areas of land surrounded by the River Ocean, is analogous in many ways to early Greek maps of the world.” 14. Another possibility is that Aristagoras simply borrowed Hecataeus’ map: Pearson 1939, 28; cf. Scott 2005, 59n.197. (Hecataeus’ map, however, may have been exclusively drawn on papyrus—just as the text of his Periegesis, which the map seems to accompany, would have been written—and not inscribed on a

hard surface like Aristagoras’ brazen map and [apparently] Anaximander’s map. Therefore, it is possible that Aristagoras borrowed Anaximander’s map rather than Hecataeus’. Cf. Nenci 1994, 224.) In the Histories, Hecataeus twice offers advice, without success, to Aristagoras and other leading Ionians behind the Ionian Revolt: at the beginning of the revolt (5.36.2–3) and near its end (5.125). See Lang 1968, 29–30; Benardete 1969, 151–52; Pelling 2007, 199–200. Rood 2006a, 294–95 (cf. West 1991, 155–56; Armayor 2004, 322–26; Irwin 2007, 70) notes how Hecataeus’ advice in 5.36—much like Aristagoras’ account in 5.49—focuses on geographical and ethnological matters. On Herodotus’ portrayal of Hecataeus in the Histories, see West. 15. On the expression γῆς περίοδος for a map, see Romm 1992, 26–31; Nenci 1994, 223; Corcella 2007, 609. In Aristophanes’ Clouds 206–17 (see Purves 2010, 112–17), which features another literary character’s description of a map much like Aristagoras’ description in 5.49, one of the students at Socrates’ “Thinkery” points out to Strepsiades the features depicted on a “circuit of all the earth” (γῆς περίοδος πάσης, 206). Clarke 1999, 9n.17, however, sounds a cautionary note: “The use of the same terminology for written and visual depictions (γράφειν, περίοδος) can lead to confusion. Herodotus 4.36, on those who draw depictions of the earth (γῆς περιόδους γράψαντας), could just as readily refer to written accounts as to visual maps, the usual assumption.” 16. Cf. Munson 2001b, 209, who says, while citing 4.36.2, that in 5.49 Aristagoras has “a map such as the histor Herodotus has elsewhere judged oversimplified and inadequate.” 17. Anti-imperialistic bent: Payen 1997, 337. Contra Fowler 2003, who argues that oral logoi dealing with past events would have already been thoroughly encoded with contemporary fifth-century concerns—whether about imperialism or a host of other matters—before Herodotus could impose on them any of his own thematic agendas. On “hard” and “soft” peoples, see chapter 2, 58. 18. Referring to 4.36.2, Dilke 1985, 57 concludes that Herodotus “despised all existing maps.” 19. For an explanation of how Herodotus’ investigation of the Hyperboreans leads into his comments on maps in 4.36.2, see Romm 1989. 20. Cf. 2.23, where Herodotus expressly questions the existence of the River Ocean: “For I for my part do not know that any river Okeanos exists…” (οὐ γάρ τινα ἔγωγε οἶδα ποταμὸν Ὠκεανὸν ἐόντα…). On Herodotus’ argumentation in this passage, see Fowler 1996, 79. Horowitz 1998, 41 compares the River Ocean, which encircles the inhabited earth on Greek maps such as Herodotus describes in 4.36.2, to the ocean waters that likewise encircle the inhabited earth on a Babylonian map—namely, the map of the world inscribed on a Late Babylonian cuneiform clay tablet (BM 92687). For more on this Babylonian map, see Horowitz 1988; 1998, 20–42. 21. On Herodotus’ views regarding the continents, see Immerwahr 1966, 315–16; Zimmermann 1997; Thomas 2000, 80–86; Prontera 2001; Corcella 2007, 608–9; Cole 2010, 205; Romm 2010, 217–20; Irby 2012, 93–94. 22. As von Fritz 1967b, 57. Contra Pearson 1939, 76, who characterizes Herodotus’ comments in 4.36.2 as a “polemic against Hecataeus.” Similarly, Prontera 2001, 131 suggests that the πολλοὺς in 4.36.2 may include “Anaximander and Hecataeus, or also Aristagoras” (Anaximander und Hekataios oder auch Aristagoras). 23. Herodotus’ polemical laughter in 4.36.2 stands apart from the schemes for laughter in the Histories developed by Lateiner 1977 (Laughter exemplifies a character’s arrogance or self-delusion or foreshadows disaster for the laugher. Cf. Lateiner 1989, 28; see further Griffiths 1995, 39–44.) and Flory 1978b (Laughter and joy indicate an ignorance of the human condition; with knowledge comes sadness.). Dewald 2006, 160 (cf. Arnould 2009, 48) argues that Herodotus’ laughter in 4.36.2 is meant to help readers to “think historically,” that is, to criticize false and overly schematized views of the world such as those propounded by map-makers. 24. Baragwanath 2008, 167; cf. 170 (cf. Nenci 1994, 222) remarks on the irony of Aristagoras, a tyrant, talking about Greek freedom. On Herodotus’ calling Aristagoras a “tyrant” (τύραννος) in 5.49.1, see McGlew 1993, 135–36. 25. Branscome forthcoming. 26. Flower and Marincola 2002, 216 note that, given the disparity in equipment between the Lacedaemonian hoplites and the lightly armed Persians, it is surprising that the battle ever reaches the ὠθισμός phase; “[o]nly the brave actions of the Persians,” who even go so far as to break the Lacedaemonians’ spears with

their hands (9.62.2), lead the battle to this point. Cf. Legrand 1954, 54; Lazenby 1985, 110; Asheri 2006, 256–57. 27. My translation here is indebted to the discussion of Flower and Marincola 2002, 216–17. 28. For Stein 1962b, 176 and Masaracchia 1995, 184, the words πλεῖστον γάρ…ἀγῶνα ἐποιεῦντο in 9.63.2 seem to interrupt the narrative flow of 9.63; both scholars propose that the words properly belong in 9.62 (after διαφθείροντο, 9.62.3). Legrand 1954, 54 sees the words in 9.63.2 instead as a redundant gloss of the single word ἄνοπλοι (“without armor”) from back in 9.62.3; he therefore suggests that the words in 9.63.2 are not by Herodotus at all, but have been interpolated. While criticizing Herodotus’ seeming diminution of Spartan military superiority over the Persians, Plutarch (Mor. 873f-874a) partially quotes 9.62.3 and 9.63.2; see Asheri 2006, 258. 29. Cf. 7.211.3: The Lacedaemonians at Thermopylae “were displaying other [deeds] among those [i.e., the Persians] who did not know how to fight [i.e., in hoplite warfare], while [they themselves] knew full well how to fight” (ἄλλα…ἀποδεικνύμενοι ἐν οὐκ ἐπισταμένοισι μάχεσθαι ἐξεπιστάμενοι). Flower and Marincola 2002, 219 argue that it was the “lack of a proper helmet and sturdy shield” that really made Persian military equipment inferior to that of Greek hoplites. According to Herodotus in 7.61.1, the Persian contingent in Xerxes’ army “had on their heads, felt caps (called tiarai) unstiffened…[and they had] in place of shields, [wicker] gerra…” (περὶ μὲν τῇσι κεφαλῇσι εἶχον τιάρας καλεομένους πίλους ἀπαγέας…ἀντὶ δὲ ἀσπίδων γέρρα). For further discussion of the non-Greek headdress tiara, see Branscome forthcoming. 30. On the connection between personal appearance and military valor in Greek thought, see Dillery 1996, esp. 234 (on 6.112.3). How and Wells 1928b, 112–13 (cf. Stein 1963b, 210; Nenci 1998, 287) note that, strictly speaking, Greeks had battled Persians before 490, most notably the Ionians, both during the conquest of Ionia by the Persians (1.169) and in the Ionian Revolt; the Athenians and Plataeans, however, may have been the first Greeks to defeat the Persians. Kelly 2003, 176, however, argues (contra Herodotus 6.112.3) that before 490 “mainland Greeks knew very little about the Persians and their empire and had, consequently, little reason to fear them.” 31. Tuplin 1994 demonstrates that from the late sixth century BCE to the end of the fourth century, Greeks generally called Persians “Medes” only in ideologically charged contexts; that is, when stress was being laid on the Persians as invading imperialists threatening Greek freedom. Remarking on 6.112.3, Tuplin 247–48 writes: “‘Mede’ was the name which expressed a sense of horror at the depredations of an alien conqueror.” 32. In the process of trying to disparage the military prowess of the Lacedaemonians’ potential Asian opponents, Aristagoras gives Cleomenes misleading information about those opponents. Relying on such information might have proved disastrous for the Lacedaemonians if they had indeed been persuaded by Aristagoras to invade Asia. Cf. the equally tendentious and disparaging comments made by Mardonius (7.9β) regarding Greek military forces, when in the Persian Council Scene (7.8–11) he tries to convince Xerxes to invade Greece. de Jong 2001, 114 writes: “In the council scene Xerxes relies on Mardonius’ false information regarding the Greeks’ military capabilities and brushes aside Artabanus’ correct information. He will only discover his opponent’s valour the hard way, through defeat.” On the Persian Council Scene (7.8–11), see further chapter 4, 174n.44. 33. Scholars most often date the publication of Herodotus’ Histories to 425 or earlier; see, for example, Dewald 1998b, x-xi; Stadter 2012a, 2n.4. Fornara 1971a, esp. 32–34; cf. 1981 (contra Cobet 1977, 1987), however, makes a good case for dating the publication to 424 at the earliest, if not a few years later. On Herodotus’ date, see also Sansone 1985; Hornblower 1996, 19–38, cf. 122–45. 34. de Jong 2001, esp. 106 stresses that Herodotus includes books 1–4 of the Histories precisely to give readers the background knowledge they need to fully understand the events of both the Ionian Revolt and the Persian War that Herodotus narrates in books 5–9. She notes as a “phenomenon” (114) in the Histories that “the Herodotean narrator provides information to his narratees, who, armed with that information, can appreciate and evaluate the words of the historical characters in the story.” 35. Scott 2005, 59 and n.195 argues that due to the large size of the bribe (fifty talents) offered by Aristagoras to Cleomenes in 5.51.2, the bribe was no doubt “underwritten by the Ionians as a whole” (59) and did not come from Aristagoras’ personal fortune. 36. Henderson 2007, 302 points to the participle ἀποστάς (the intransitive 2nd aorist from ἀφιστάναι) in 5.51.2 and its potential meaning, “revolt” (Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. ἀψιστμι B.2.); it is ironic that, while

Aristagoras is asking Cleomenes to participate in the Ionian Revolt, the very thing that Gorgo tells Cleomenes to do is to “revolt from” Aristagoras—that is, to walk away from him and so to end Aristagoras’ attempts at bribery. Cf. Purves 2010, 140. On Aristagoras as a ξεῖνος (“guest,” but also “stranger” or “foreigner”) in Sparta, see Nenci 1994, 227. 37. Stein 1963b, 46 (cf. How and Wells 1928b, 20) notes that in 5.49.5 πολυαργυρώτατοι means “rich in precious metals, money” (“reich an edlen Metallen, Geld”), not “rich in silver” specifically, since the Lydians were particularly rich in gold (as well as electrum: How and Wells; cf. Nenci 1994, 226). 38. On Herodotus’ treatment of Libya in his work, see Lloyd 1990, 236–44 and accompanying “Discussion” 245–53. 39. On the movement of Aristagoras’ description in 5.49 from west to east, Munson 2007, 158 and Pelling 2007, 180 compare Aristagoras’ earlier proposal (5.31) to the Persian satrap Artaphrenes that the Persians use Naxos as a base of operations to attack other Cycladic islands, such as Paros and Andros, as well as the island of Euboea; here, Aristagoras’ description (in a context of conquest similar to 5.49) moves from east (Naxos) to west (Euboea). On the correspondences between 5.31 and 5.49, see further Solmsen 1943, 195–200. 40. As noted by Rood 2006a, 295; 2012, 128. Cf. Hartog 1988, 361. Pelling 2007, 189 points out that in addition to echesthai’s meaning “X ‘borders on’ Y or ‘connects to’ Y,” the verb “can equally mean ‘get hands on’, ‘grasp’, ‘cling to’, a rather more aggressive sort of ‘connect’.” On Herodotus’ geographical language, see in general Purves 2010, 128–29; Rood 2012, 127–31. 41. As Chiasson 2003, 16. Herodotus uses these two phrases virtually interchangeably. See Shimron 1973; Chamberlain 2001. Chamberlain 13n.26 overlooks 5.49.5 when he notes that “[o]nly twice does a speaker in the text [of the Histories] say οἶδα:” he cites 1.47.3 and 5.24.1. 42. Bloomer 1993, 33 argues that superlatives are a reflection “of Herodotus’ vision—a vision that sees not the average or the typical but the extreme as definitive and worthy of record.” Cf. Chamberlain 2001, 24, who says that the Delphic oracle’s response to Croesus (“I know the number of the sands…” 1.47.3) can, in effect, be rendered: “‘I am the consummate histor, I know the ultimate superlatives,’ so don’t try to outinterpret me.” 43. On Herodotus’ narrative (including 5.49–54) serving for readers as an “impetus for conquest,” see Demont 2009, 188. 44. The sentence that immediately precedes the passage quoted in this paragraph (5.49.4) is: “Thus they are easy to conquer” (οὕτω εὐπετέες χειρωθῆναί εἰσι, 5.49.4). I included this sentence above as the conclusion of Aristagoras’ description of barbarian military equipment (5.49.3). It may be, however, that with the placement of this sentence Aristagoras is implying that the barbarians are easy to conquer both because of their deficient military equipment and because of the enervating effects of their wealth. Cf. Irwin 2007, 70 (cf. Pelling 2007, 189), who argues that Aristagoras portrays the Persians as “rich and weak.” Somewhat differently, Stein 1963b, 45 maintains that in 5.49.4 the καί in the sentence that begins ἔστι δὲ καὶ ἀγαθὰ…signifies that “[the barbarians] are not only easy to conquer, but also worth being conquered” (sie sind nicht nur leicht zu besiegen, sondern auch wert besiegt zu werden). 45. Rood 2006a, 295; cf. 2012, 129 remarks on how these “polysyllabic superlatives” are used by Aristagoras to appeal to Cleomenes’ greed. See further Chiasson 2003, 16. 46. How and Wells 1928b, 20–21 note that from a Greek point of view, Susa was the principal—but not exclusive—residence of the Great King. Briant 2002, 84–88 points out, however, that unlike with Ecbatana, Babylon, Pasargadae, and Persepolis—all of which contained royal palaces for the Achaemenid kings—the exact status of Susa as a royal residence is unclear. On the significance of a king’s thesauros as a motif in the Histories, see Purves 2010, 138–39, 145n.66, 156–57. 47. On the hubristic nature of Aristagoras’ suggestion, see Nenci 1994, 226; Forsdyke 2002, 532; Scullion 2006, 195. Cf. de Jong 2001, 109, on Xerxes’ boast that land under Persian control, once the Persians conquer Greece, will “share a border with Zeus’ heaven” (τῷ Διὸς αἰθέρι ὁμουρέουσαν, 7.8γ1). 48. On the prevalence of instances of Spartan venality in the Histories, see Millender 2002a, 36–39; Stadter 2006, 246. Cf. Pelling 2007, 189n.36. Balot 2001, 121 (cf. Nenci 1994, 227; Baragwanath 2008, 61) emphasizes, however, that Cleomenes managed to resist Aristagoras’ bribes. Cleomenes does resist, but as Pelling 190 rightly observes, he “only just” does, thanks to the timely words of his daughter Gorgo. Cf. Croesus’ being saved by the timely words of his (formerly) mute son (1.85.4). For the view that Gorgo’s

decisive role in this episode reflects an anti-Cleomenes tradition, see Powell 1999, 409. On Gorgo as “wise adviser” to Cleomenes, see Lang 1968, 31; Millender 1999, 357; cf. Barker 2009, 156–57. 49. Cf. Purves 2010, 134, cf. 135: “The emphasis on wealth in [Aristagoras’] description…suggests a terrain that merges with the surface upon which [the map] is inscribed, as if the imagery of gold and fertile plains were reflecting off the shining bronze exterior of the tablet.” 50. Dilke 1985, 57. See further Purves 2010, 118–58. 51. On the possibility that Herodotus nevertheless made use of a map while writing the Histories, see Jacob 1988, 284; Briant 2002, 357. 52. In his account of the peoples who inhabit Asia from Ionia to Susa (5.49), Aristagoras himself does not explicitly mention a road, “Royal” or otherwise. Cf. Anabasis, in which Xenophon never mentions the Royal Road, although he may have traveled it during much of the anabasis with Cyrus (French 1998, 19–21) or at least have crossed a section of it in his katabasis to the sea (Tuplin 2004, 356 [on 3.5.15]). As Briant 2002, 357 (cf. index s.v. road: royal) explains, however, the well-known Royal Road from Sardis to Susa was only one of several royal roads in the Persian Empire; royal roads were distinguished from other Persian roads mainly by their breadth, which made them suitable for chariot traffic (Briant 361). Reconstructing the course of the Royal Road on the assumption that later paved Roman roads were built upon earlier unpaved Persian roads, French 1998, esp. 15–19 demonstrates the overall reliability of Herodotus’ account of the Royal Road (5.52–54). 53. Rood 2006a, 295 argues that as Aristagoras’ narration of his map moves from the coast of Asia to the island of Cyprus it resembles a periplous (i.e., from the point of view of a sailor sailing along the coast). On the significance of Cyprus in Aristagoras’ description of his map, see Serghidou 2007, 272, 277. 54. Jacob 1988, esp. 288 maintains that it is precisely the map, functioning as a mnemonic device, that allows Aristagoras to produce his ordered, sequential list of the peoples of Asia. 55. Cf. Macan 1895, 192: “The description of the road [in 5.52–54] is a duller replica of the speech of Aristagoras just before; or perhaps rather the speech of A. is a lively creation based upon the itinerary.” 56. Cf. Jacob 1988, 288: “The ambassador’s [i.e., Aristagoras’] speech is punctuated with deictics, abstract operators that designate that which is not really featured on the map, but of which one can imagine the relative position” (Le discours de l’ambassadeur est ponctué de déictiques, opérateurs abstraits qui désignent ce qui n’est pas véritablement figuré sur la carte, mais dont on peut penser la position relative.). Stein 1963b, 46 (cf. How and Wells 1928b, 20) observes, however, that the ταῦτα used by Aristagoras in the phrase τὰ Σοῦσα ταῦτα in 5.49.7 is “not deictic, but rather, as very often in Herodotus = ἐκεῖνα, ‘the wellknown, the previously mentioned’” (nicht deiktisch, sondern, wie sehr oft bei H. = ἐκεῖνα, ‘das bekannte, berufene’). It is because Herodotus here does not use the demonstrative τάδε with τὰ Σοῦσα, but instead ταῦτα, that Stein concludes that cities were not indicated on Aristagoras’ map. That is to say, with the demonstrative ὅδε Aristagoras can point to topographical features such as rivers that are actually depicted on the map, but he cannot point to a city such as Susa, which is not so depicted. On Herodotus’ use of demonstratives in his work, see Munson 1993a; Bakker 2002, 30. By way of comparison, Aristophanes has Socrates’ student in Clouds 206–17 use a variety of deictic indicators while pointing to his map of the world: demonstrative adjectives (“this [here]” = αὕτη, 206; αἵδε, 207; τοῦτ[ο], 209), a demonstrative adverb (“here” = ἐνταῦθ[α], 211), and demonstrative adjectives with deictic iotas (“this [right] here” = ἡδί, 212; αὑτηί, 214) 57. Cf. Solmsen 1943, 199: “Yet the speech as we read it [in 5.49] cannot be considered a reproduction of the speech actually made by Aristagoras; it is Herodotus’ own creation…” Similarly, Lang 1968, 31 argues that “Aristagoras’ plea to Cleomenes is so much the stock Peitho-speech…that it is questionable whether it has much value as evidence.” 58. As Munson 2001b, 209: “In Athens, Aristagoras repeats the tendentious ethnographic information he has given at Sparta (5.49.3–8), with the aid of a map…” Cf. Steiner 1994, 147, who remarks on “the map that Aristagoras of Miletus carries first to Sparta and then to Athens…” Similarly, Purves 2010, 133n.32 writes: “Only later does Herodotus tell us that the map was in fact successful in persuading the Athenians to join Aristagoras (5.97).” 59. Contra Hohti 1976, 45: “Herodotus does not repeat Aristagoras’ arguments at Athens [5.97], since they resemble those delivered at Sparta [5.49]. Only the essentials are given in reported speech.” 60. In his speech to Cleomenes in Sparta, Aristagoras claims that barbarians carry “a short spear” (αἰχμὴ

βραχέα, 5.49.3); this statement is valid, at least to the extent that aichmē is used in the Histories only for foreign weapons. Aristagoras’ claim in 5.97.1 that Persians do not carry dorē is less precise, as doru is used by Herodotus both for Greek and non-Greek spears. See Powell 1938, s.v. αἰχμή; δόρυ. 61. It is possible that Aristagoras mentions articles of foreign clothing (ἀναξυρίδες, κυρβασίαι) in his speech to the Lacedaemonian Cleomenes in 5.49, but omits such mention in his speech to the Athenians in 5.97 on cultural grounds. Perhaps he thinks that the (Dorian and stereotypically landlubberly) Lacedaemonians will be impressed by the exotic, Eastern clothing. Cf. Pelling 2007, 194. (To Cleomenes, Aristagoras also holds out as one of the enticements for conquering the Easterners their “many-colored clothing” [ἐσθὴς ποικίλη, 5.49.4].) And perhaps Aristagoras thinks that the (Ionian, maritime, and eastward-looking) Athenians will be more familiar with and so less impressed by the foreign clothing. Cf. the so-called Anacreontic Attic vases of the late sixth and early fifth-century BCE, on which revelers are depicted wearing foreign dress (esp. headdresses); see further Branscome forthcoming. Admittedly, this speculation on Aristagoras’ thoughts concerning his speeches in Sparta and in Athens blurs the lines between what Aristagoras actually said in either speech and what Herodotus reports that he said. 62. As we have seen, Herodotus includes a source citation (“as Lacedaemonians say,” 5.49.1) immediately before mentioning the detail that Aristagoras brought a map to Sparta. Conversely, no source citation at all (e.g., “as Athenians say” or the like) accompanies Herodotus’ description of Aristagoras’ speech at Athens (5.97). If, as suggested earlier, the source citation in 5.49 is indeed tied to the presence of Aristagoras’ map in this story, then the absence of a similar source citation in 5.97 could perhaps support the contention that Aristagoras brought no such map to Athens. 63. Baragwanath 2008, 168 points out that the Greek in 5.97.2 is perhaps purposely ambiguous: the phrase δυναμένους μέγα (“being very powerful”) could equally refer to the Athenians (which is how I translated it above; cf. Christ 2012, 140n.48) or to the Milesians “who being so powerful would prove a worthwhile asset for Athens if she helps them out.” 64. On these three elements in 5.97 (and on the first two of these in 5.49), see Baragwanath 2008, 167–68; cf. Christ 2012, 141. Munson 2007, 155n.43 maintains that the “argument [regarding the Athenians’ obligation to help their Milesian colonists in 5.97.2]…is the only one that differentiates Aristagoras’ Athenian from his Spartan speech.” This is true at least on the level of argument, but the apparent lack of a map to accompany Aristagoras’ speech in Athens is an even bigger difference from the speech he gives in Sparta. 65. Cf. Murnaghan 2001, 70: “Aristagoras then goes to Athens, where he forgets about the map and relies instead on unanchored verbal inventiveness…” Cf. Pelling 2007, 184: “[T]here is no suggestion…that Aristagoras even used his visual aid of the map in Athens as he had done at Sparta.” 66. Scholarly opinion about the significance of direct versus indirect discourse in the Histories varies widely. See Lateiner 1989, 21; Pelling 2006b, 104; Scardino 2007, 116; 2012. I agree with Dewald 1999, esp. 233, who holds that longer, more vivid logoi featuring direct discourse are not necessarily more or less reliable than shorter logoi that Herodotus himself may endorse as narrator; it is usually up to the reader in each case to decide which logos to believe. 67. One could argue, however, that it is precisely because Herodotus reports in such great detail what Aristagoras has to say in Sparta (5.49) that he is able to report in less detail what Aristagoras says in Athens (5.97); after all, Herodotus even says that in Athens Aristagoras repeats “the same things” (5.97.1) that he said in Sparta. We saw above, though, that Herodotus is actually using the phrase “the same things” fairly loosely and that there are several differences between the two speeches. The main difference between 5.49 and 5.97 is Aristagoras’ map; the presence of the map in 5.49 explains why Aristagoras’ mission to Sparta receives so much more attention from Herodotus than Aristagoras’ mission to Athens in 5.97 does. 68. As Erbse 1992, 158–59: in 5.52–54 Herodotus “completes” (or “adds to”) (ergänzen) Aristagoras’ interrupted account of the journey to Susa; Erbse unconvincingly argues that without Herodotus’ addition, readers could not understand Cleomenes’ reaction to the length of the journey. Cf. Nenci 1994, 231. Contra Pelling 2007, 195–96 and n.58. 69. On Herodotus’ polemical use of orthōs, see Thomas 2000, 228–35. 70. On Herodotus’ use of atrekēs, see Becker 1937, 110–14; Fantasia 2007, esp. 99–107. 71. The second time in the Histories that Herodotus refers to his work, and the first time he calls it a logos, is 1.5.3: “…after I have pointed this one out [i.e., Croesus], I will proceed to the further part of my

account…” (…τοῦτον σημήνας προβήσομαι ἐς τὸ πρόσω τοῦ λόγου…). An example of the plural logoi is 5.36.4: “…as has been shown by me in the first [book] of my accounts” (…ὡς δεδήλωταί μοι ἐν τῷ πρώτῳ τῶν λόγων). 72. Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. σημαινω 1.2. 73. On Herodotus’ use of sēmainein, see Hartog 1988, 365–66; Nagy 1990, 165; Brock 2003, 8n.13; Hollmann 2011, 20–27. 74. The verb Herodotus uses to refer to Aristagoras’ physical—rather than metaphorical— “pointing to” his map is δεικνύναι: Herodotus interrupts Aristagoras’ discussion of the regions and peoples of Asia to note that Aristagoras “said this while pointing to his circuit of the earth” (δεικνὺς…ἔλεγε ταῦτα ἐς τῆς γῆς τὴν περίοδον, 5.49.5). On Herodotus’ interjection in this passage, Lateiner 1989, 19 comments that “Herodotus’ apodexis points to Aristagoras’ deixis.” Cf. Pelling 2007, 196. 75. Hollmann 2011, 9–10 notes, however, that for Herodotus the basic word for “sign” is not the Homeric σῆμα—which in the Histories only means “grave/tomb”—but rather σημήιον. 76. Burn 1984, 199 observes that Cleomenes’ only choice to end the conversation at this point was to remove himself from Aristagoras’ presence; Cleomenes could no longer forcibly eject him from Sparta. As Burn notes, Aristagoras had now assumed the position of a suppliant (5.51.1). Herodotus writes that “Aristagoras, after he took up an olive branch as a mark of supplication, went into Cleomenes’ house, and after he went inside, he was ordering Cleomenes to listen to him because he [i.e., Aristagoras] was a suppliant” (ὁ δὲ Ἀρισταγόρης λαβὼν ἱκετηρίην ἤιε ἐς τοῦ Κλεομένεος, ἐσελθὼν δὲ ἔσω ἅτε ἱκετεύων ἐπακοῦσαι ἐκέλευε τὸν Κλεομένεα). It is precisely through Aristagoras’ act of going inside Cleomenes’ house (and so presumably of crossing the house’s threshold) that Aristagoras goes from being a “guest” (ξεῖνος: 5.49.9, 50.3) to a “suppliant” (ἱκέτης); see Gould 1973, 92n.94a. 77. Cf. Rösler 2002, 88–90; Brock 2003, 13. On Herodotus and writing, see further Irwin and Greenwood 2007a, 33–40; Pelling 2007, 196–200. 78. On the possibility that Herodotus gave oral readings of his work, see chapter 2, 65. Rösler 2002 believes that Herodotus began as an oral lecturer, but made a conscious decision late in his life (late 430s) to commit to writing the vast amount of material he had learned and thereby to preserve it; the Histories was thus designed for future readers every bit as much as Thucydides’ own “possession for all time” (κτῆμα ἐς αἰεί, 1.22.4). 79. Cf. Henderson 2007, 302, who likens Cleomenes’ interruption of Aristagoras’ speech (5.51) to Herodotus’ interruption of his own narrative with his account of the Royal Road (5.52–54). 80. Although Aristagoras’ speech in 5.49 may be oral, his map, in and of itself, is tied to writing. Cf. Pelling 2007, 196–97. Indeed, the same Greek verb, graphein, is used both for “writing” and for “drawing” or “inscribing” a map. A pinax, moreover, could be both a writing tablet and an object on which a map was drawn. Cf. Anaximander’s pinax discussed earlier. See Jacob 1988, esp. 276, 283–89; Purves 2010, 109, 128. 81. Contra Pelling 2007, 194, who maintains that Aristagoras’ rhetoric in 5.49 is carefully crafted to appeal to a specifically Spartan audience. 82. As Pelling 2007, 184. Contra Purves 2010, 140, who contrasts Aristagoras’ failure to persuade with his map in Sparta (5.49–51)—within the confines of Cleomenes’ house—with Aristagoras’ success in Athens: “significantly, in Athens, he is able to persuade because he presents his map within the open, public space of the pnyx, 5.97.” 83. Indeed, there may be a further, cultural factor at work in Aristagoras’ decision to bring a map to Sparta, but not to Athens. Perhaps the landlubberly Spartans would have been more impressed by the map than the maritime Athenians, who would presumably have had a greater familiarity with Ionian-style maps, would have been. Cf. Prontera 2001, 135 (“Discussion” by Prontera); Purves 2010, 133. This is assuming that Aristagoras’ respective visits to Sparta and to Athens in c. 500 BCE are historical and that Herodotus has accurately portrayed the mindsets of Aristagoras’ audiences in both cities. If the episodes involving Aristagoras’ speeches are instead largely or wholly the inventions of Herodotus or of one of his sources, then the imagined Spartan and Athenian audiences for the two speeches may actually reflect the national characteristics of late, rather than early, fifth-century Sparta and Athens, perhaps the late 420s when Herodotus’ Histories was likely published. If this is the case, we may posit yet another reason why Herodotus does not present Aristagoras bringing a map to Athens in 5.97. (I owe the following suggestion

to Charlie Harper.) Perhaps Athenians would not have been favorably disposed to Aristagoras’ map because some late fifth-century Athenians, at least, associated maps with the (potentially subversive) research and teachings of the Sophists. Aristophanes plays upon the sophistic associations of maps for comic effect in Clouds 206–17 (a play that was first produced in 423, but later revised between 419–16: see Henderson 1998, 3). Indeed, Brumbaugh 1972, 217 (cf. Dover 1968, 123; Cole 2010, 206) writes: “There is throughout the play an intrinsic association of ‘new learning,’ atheism, and mechanical apparatus; and an audience is presupposed already familiar enough with that association to appreciate the grotesque properties hung about in the Phrontisterion, and the way Strepsiades misinterprets them.” Cf. Purves 2010, 114n.51: “The joke would only work if the Athenian audience was relatively map literate, at least more so than Strepsiades.” 84. Cf. the Lacedaemonians’ responses to an embassy of exiled Samians (3.46). First, the Lacedaemonians admit that they could not follow the end or even remember the beginning of the Samians’ speech that they have just heard (3.46.1). Second, the Samians try an appropriately laconic appeal for help, complete with a “sack” as visual aid. The Lacedaemonians criticize the Samians’ plea (“the sack needs grain”) (τὸν θύλακον ἀλφίτων δέεσθαι), however, for prolixity; the word “sack” was unnecessary, say the Lacedaemonians (3.46.2). On this episode, see Murnaghan 2001. 85. Cf. Cole 2010, 206: “The anecdote [involving Aristagoras’ encounter with Cleomenes] may have been told originally to reinforce the Spartan reputation for illiteracy, but it also shows the challenge of Cleomenes’ own unschooled sagacity.” 86. On the incompatibility of “time” and Aristagoras’ presentation of his map, see Purves 2010, 136. 87. Pelling 2007, 190, cf. 190–94 notes that by having Cleomenes say “sea,” and not perhaps the more expected word “Peloponnese” here, Herodotus hints that the Spartans are not such landlubbers and stay-athomes as their later Greek stereotype (as found especially in Thucydides’ History) would hold. Cf. Prontera 2001, 135 (“Discussion” by Luraghi). 88. Cf. Dewald 1985, 54: “Cleomenes forces Aristagoras to reveal the secret contained in the map…” See further Hollmann 2011, 214: “[Cleomenes] forces Aristagoras to reveal unwittingly the real relationship between the signifiers of the map (marks representing the coast of Asia Minor, Sardis, and Susa and their positions relative to each other) and the signified, the real cities and the real distances between them (three months from the sea to Susa!) (5.50.1–2).” 89. Cf. de Jong 2001, 98: “Upon reflection, it seems only logical to take ‘time’ as an important—perhaps the most important—structuralizing and unifying principle in a historical narrative.” That Aristagoras omits time in his account to Cleomenes, therefore, is particularly telling; Aristagoras is deficient in the very area in which an inquirer most needs to be proficient—that is, in exercising control over the temporal aspect of his narrative. And yet, somewhat ironically, de Jong 100 (cf. 2007, 3–8; Rood 2007, 129–30) argues that an important characteristic of Herodotus’ own work is that “the structure of the Histories [is] anachronical [emphasis added]; the chronological framework is frequently overturned through long and complex—but effective—anachronies.” 90. Cf. Macan 1895, 192: “That the road was well provided with guard stations [stathmoi]…would not have been a good argument to induce the Spartans to take to it; and so of the gates, rivers, etc.” 91. Cf. Hunzinger 1995, 70: “Just as Aristagoras of Miletus, who displays his map of the wonders of the world in order to trick the Lacedaemonians (5.49), Herodotus displays an enormous map, but it is a clever map that puts into perspective not only space, but also time” (Comme Aristagoras de Milet, qui déploie sa carte des merveilles du monde pour duper les Lacédémoniens (V, 49), Hérodote déploie une immense carte, mais c’est une carte intelligente, qui met en perspective non seulement l’espace, mais le temps). Somewhat differently, Cole 2010, 206 argues that in 5.52–54, Herodotus “calculates and reports the total distance [of the journey from Ionia to Susa], but converts distance to time, because he realizes that his audience understands the measurement of time more easily than the measurement of distance.” 92. In reviewing the different “devices” with which Herodotus draws his narratees (i.e., his readers) into the narrative of the Histories, de Jong 2004, 110 calls this “the ‘indefinite second person’ device.” 93. ἐσβάλλοντι (5.52.5), μεταβαίνοντι (5.52.6), ἀναβαίνοντι (5.52.6), διεξιοῦσι (5.53). This last dative, unlike all the rest of the datives that refer to the reader in this passage, is plural. de Jong 2004, 110 says such datives refer to “an anonymous witness with whom the narratees can…identify.” Rood 2006a, 295 links these datives to Herodotus’ use of a “proper geographical style” in 5.52–54, in contrast with Aristagoras’ less proper geographical account in 5.49. Indeed, Clarke 2003, 75n.17 says that Herodotus’ “language [in

5.52–54], using dative participles and second singular verbs for the traveller to whom the journey takes on its particular form, is strikingly similar to that employed by the authors of travel texts.” Cf. Nenci 1994, 233, who refers to διαβάντι δὲ ἐς τὴν Καππαδοκίην (5.52.2) as a periegetic expression (formula della periegetica). Smyth 1956, 345 (= Sm. 1497) classes such dative participles as datives of reference and remarks: “The participle of verbs of coming or going is commonly used in statements of geographical situation.” The use of such dative participles in geographical contexts goes back at least as far as Hecataeus of Miletus (FGrHist 1 F 169): Stephanus of Byzantium reports under the entry Καβασσός that “Hecataeus of Miletus says that Kabēssos is a city ‘for one crossing the Thracian Haemus’” (Ἑκαταῖος δ’ ὁ Μιλήσιος Καβησσὸν πόλιν εἶναί φησιν ‹ὑπερβάντι τὸν Θρᾴκιον Αἷμον›.). 94. Pelling 2007, 195 argues that whereas Aristagoras stresses the ease with which the Lacedaemonians could seize Persian lands, Herodotus, in 5.52–54, stresses how difficult, or even hazardous, a journey along the Royal Road would be; in the Histories, “boat-navigable rivers,” for example, are not always rivers that should be crossed (as Cyrus learns in the cases of both the Gyndes [1.189.1] and the Araxes [1.205.2]). 95. de Jong 2004, 110 situates such a use of τις by Herodotus in “passages featuring an anonymous interlocutor (often tis) with whom the narratees can identify.” 96. Cf. 1.139, in which Herodotus assures the reader that “if you search it out, you will find” (διζήμενος εὑρήσεις) that all Persian names end in the equivalent of the Greek letter sigma. On δίζησις (the abstract noun formed from the same root as δίζησθαι), Fowler 2006, 42n.14, cf. 32 (but see Mourelatos 1970, 67) concludes that “[i]n Herodotus, it is a less forceful word than historiē, denoting simple seeking for something lost, or desiring…It appears to be the ordinary Ionic word for ‘seek’.” 97. As a preface to his note on the absence of mules in Elis, Herodotus writes: “For from the start my account searched out additions (προσθήκας γὰρ δή μοι ὁ λόγος ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἐδίζητο, 4.30.1). After he has told of Croesus’ defeat by Cyrus, Herodotus says: “At this point our account seeks after” (ἐπιδίζηται δὲ δὴ τὸ ἐνθεῦτεν ἡμῖν ὁ λόγος) exactly who Cyrus was and how the Persians came to rule over Asia (1.95.1). 98. de Jong 1999, 228 argues that Herodotus’ use of ἐγώ (“I”) to refer to himself occupies a middle position between the clearly emphatic ἔγωγε and the nonemphatic indication of person merely by verbal ending; with ἐγώ Herodotus signals to his readers “that he is now speaking of himself” (que c’est maintenant de luimême qu’il parle) and not of the third-person characters in the Histories. On Herodotus’ use of the authorial “I,” see further Thomas 1993, 240–41; 2000, 235–48; Montiglio 2005, 127. 99. Lateiner 1989, 231n.20, cf. 10 similarly says that “ἀτρεκέως, λέγειν, πυθέσθαι, κτλ, then, mean to tell or learn something ‘straight’ [emphasis added].” Cf. Marincola 2007b, 16. 100. 1.95.1: Herodotus says that although he knows “three other paths of stories” (τριφασίας ἄλλας λόγων ὁδούς) about Cyrus, he will tell the one that seems to him most truthful. On Herodotus’ concept of the logōn hodos, see Becker 1937, esp. 114–16; Dewald 1987, 149, 166; Payen 1997, 334–38; Munson 2001b, 33; Murnaghan 2001, 71 (on 5.52–54); Purves 2010, 68–69, 122–23. Cf. 1.117.2: When Harpagus sees the cowherd to whom he had given the infant Cyrus being interviewed by Astyages, Harpagus “does not turn onto a false path [of stories] (οὐ τρέπεται ἐπὶ ψευδέα ὁδόν),” says Herodotus, but he tells Astyages the truth about his past actions. Cf. 2.20.1: While discussing theories about the Nile flood, Herodotus says that Greeks “told three paths [of stories] about this body of water” (ἔλεξαν περὶ τοῦ ὕδατος τούτου τριφασίας ὁδούς), all three of which, Herodotus claims, are incorrect. 101. On Herodotus’ metaphorical use of ὁδός (“way/path/road/route”), see Becker 1937, 101–38. Cf. the road (ὁδός) to truth in Parmenides’ poem; see Becker 1937, 139–50; Mourelatos 1970. 102. Darbo-Peschanski 1987, 114 notes that in 5.49–54 neither Aristagoras nor Herodotus claims that he had actually traveled the Royal Road. Similarly, Clarke 2003, 75n.17 says that “[a]lthough [Herodotus in 5.52–54] does not claim autopsy, he uses the terms of one who has actually travelled the route himself…” 103. Murray 2001a, 36 states that “documentary models lie behind” Herodotus’ account of the Royal Road (5.52–54). He approves of Lewis’ 1997 suggestion that Greeks working in the Persian bureaucracy were an important source for Herodotus’ work; any oral account of the Royal Road issuing from such a source, contends Murray, “would naturally follow the scribal mental forms of the table and list” (37) and so would appear to be derived from a written document. Cf. Nenci 1994, 231–32. 104. Aristagoras—ultimately unsuccessfully—invites Cleomenes to imagine himself as a traveler through the regions to which Aristagoras points on his map, and, more specifically, as a military invader and conqueror of these regions. The geographical dimension of Aristagoras’ speech at Sparta (5.49), therefore,

is for the purpose of a vividly designed military reconnaissance, showing Cleomenes what he himself would see if he invades Asia. Cf. de Jong’s 2001, 115 comment on why Herodotus describes Greek topographical and geographical features (e.g., in 7.109.1) during Xerxes’ invasion: “[I]t shows us the process by which this Persian king gradually gets to know Greece.” 105. Cf. Cole 2010, 206: “Aristagoras not only knows how to use a map, he is also ready to exploit a map to confuse his audience. His attempted ruse indicates his sophistication in recognizing the possibilities of representation. He is actually using a map in an extraordinary way: not to show Cleomenes the route to Susa, but rather, to deceive him about the distance.” Contra Flower 2000, 72, who argues that at the time that Aristagoras would have used his map, he may actually have intended to show Cleomenes just how far away Ionia was from Susa and so just how defensible Ionia would be for the Lacedaemonians from the threat of invasion by the formidable Persians. The motive that Herodotus attributes to Aristagoras’ use of his map—namely, to emphasize to Cleomenes how close Ionia was to Susa—says Flower, reflects the later fifth-century Greek interest in taking the fight to the unwarlike Persians by penetrating into the interior of the Persian Empire. 106. “…la miniaturisation de l’espace joue un rôle persuasif dans cette scène, puisqu’elle tend à démontrer qu’une expédition traversant l’Asie Mineure est aussi simple, aussi rapide, que le mouvement de l’oeil ou du doigt sur la carte.” Cf. Hartog’s 1988, 361 remark that with the map, Aristagoras tries to convince Cleomenes that “the concrete space really does correspond to the space of language,” that is, to Aristagoras’ list of Asian peoples who follow one after another without a break. 107. On the concept of sophiē (“intelligence”) in the Histories, see Munson 2001b, index s.v. sophie. On the importance of “practical” intelligence for characters in Herodotus’ work, see Dewald 1985. 108. On Herodotus’ use of diaballein, particularly as it applies to Aristagoras, see esp. Pelling 2007, 179–80, 183–87. Cf. van der Veen 1996, 92n.237; Harrison 2004, 258–59. Pelling (2007, 179) remarks that in Herodotus’ Histories the “words εὐπετής [“easy”] and διαβάλλειν are almost Aristagoras’ signature tunes.” Cf. Derow 1995, 40–41. 109. Powell 1938, s.v. divides the 29 examples of diaballein in the Histories into four categories: “traduce” (18), “fall out with” (4), “deceive” (7), and “cross over” (4). Cf. Pelling 2007, 179, 184, who translates diaballein as “put one across”; he notes (184) that the word often carries with it the additional meaning of “set at odds.” 110. Munson 2001b, 38 refers to such metanarrative interventions as “referential glosses.” She writes: “A referential gloss provides directions on how to receive the narrative by commenting not on the narrative itself but on the narrated…Referential glosses constitute the level of metanarrative that is closest to the narrative. For this reason, they fulfill their function indirectly and often in a subtler way than statements that identify a piece of text as coming from a certain source, as being Herodotus’ opinion, or as representing—or not—an accurate report.” 111. On sphallesthai, compare Pelling 2007, 184 (cf. Hollmann 2011, 214), who notes that the verb diaballein can be used as a “wrestling metaphor.” Therefore, one could say that in 5.49–51 Aristagoras engages in two wrestling matches, one (diaballein) with Cleomenes and one (sphallesthai) with to eon or “the truth,” and that Aristagoras ultimately loses both contests. On to eon, see chapter 1, 27–30 and chapter 2, 95. 112. Pelling 2007, 183 misses the mark when he writes: “Yet there is no suggestion here that Aristagoras says anything false; the falsity would only have come in if he had lied about the distances, as indeed Herodotus thinks he ‘ought’ to have done (5.50.2)—not a strong moralistic ‘ought’ there, of course, rather an indication of the sort of line that a consistent διαβάλλων would have been advised to take.” What Pelling leaves out of the discussion here is precisely what does lend a ‘moralistic’ tone to 5.50.2: to eon. Herodotus expressly contrasts that which Aristagoras is doing in regard to Cleomenes, namely diaballein or “deceiving,” with to eon, “the truth.” So even if, as Pelling argues, Aristagoras does not say anything in his speech to Cleomenes that is patently false, Herodotus still contrasts Aristagoras’ activities with “the truth.”

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CHAPTER 4 The Athenians “alone” at Marathon Prior to the Battle of Plataea, the Tegeans and the Athenians engage in a debate over which of the two of them should be awarded command of the allied Greek army's left wing (9.26–28.1). The assembled Lacedaemonian army—which already has command of the more prestigious right wing—acts as judge in the debate, listening as both the Tegeans (9.26) and the Athenians (9.27) stake their claim to command. In support of their respective claims, each side—Tegeans and Athenians—cites notable achievements from their city-state's past, and the Lacedaemonians end up awarding the command to the Athenians (9.28.1). During their winning speech, the Athenians mention the Battle of Marathon, in which they state that they fought “alone of Greeks” (μοῦνοι Ἑλλήνων, 9.27.5) against the Persians. In this episode, Herodotus presents the Athenian speakers (9.27) in a way similar to that in which he presented Aristagoras (5.49–54). The Athenian speakers serve as rival inquirers to Herodotus, just as Aristagoras does, and in both cases Herodotus contrasts the accounts of the rival inquirers with his own, more accurate account. Unlike Aristagoras, however, the Athenian speakers actually succeed in persuading their audience, the Lacedaemonian army. By contrast, Aristagoras fails both on an internal and external level of narrative: he cannot persuade his internal audience, Cleomenes, and he is portrayed to an external audience—the readers of Herodotus' Histories—as an inferior inquirer. The Athenian speakers, on the other hand, fail only in Page 151 → the latter respect; that is to say, they fail to persuade Herodotus' readers that at Marathon the Athenians “alone” had defeated the Persians. With its claim that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon, the Athenians' speech in 9.27.5 employs a characteristic topos of the Attic funeral oration (ἐπιτάφιος λόγος). Speakers of epitaphioi shaped their accounts of Athenian history to present Athens in the best possible light, stressing Athens' ἀρετή (courage or excellence) and her self-sacrifice as protector and defender of her fellow Greek states. An important part of such orations, performed at the funerals of Athenian war dead, was recounting the glorious military accomplishments of Athens—among them, the victory at Marathon. Epitaphic speakers consistently claimed that the Athenians had fought “alone” at Marathon, without any outside aid. This epitaphic version of Marathon, however, conflicts with Herodotus' own narrative of the battle (6.102–17). According to Herodotus, the Plataeans fought alongside the Athenians at Marathon in 490 BCE and helped repel the Persian landing.1 By relating the epitaphic version of Marathon, the Athenian speakers in 9.27.5 become rival inquirers for Herodotus within the text of the Histories. Both the Athenian speakers in 9.27.5 and Herodotus himself give accounts of a past historical event—the Battle of Marathon. Herodotus further underlines the partial resemblance between the Athenian speakers in 9.27 and himself as an inquirer by linking the words of the Athenians with his own words in the prologue of the Histories (1.1–5.4). In the latter passage, which immediately follows the proem or first sentence of the Histories, Persian logioi and Phoenicians give accounts of the various abductions of women in the Greek mytho-historical past (1.1–5.2). Once Herodotus has narrated the four events described by the Persians and Phoenicians, he states his aim (1.5.3–4) of moving on to an event that is closer to his own time—the career of the Lydian king Croesus. Similarly, the Athenian speakers state their aim (9.27.4–5) of shifting from four events in their ancient past to the more recent event of the Battle of Marathon. Thus, both Herodotus' comments in 1.5.3–4 and the Athenians' comments in 9.27.4–5 mark transitional points in their respective narratives. Regardless of the correspondence between Herodotus and the Athenian speakers in 9.27, the account of Marathon that Herodotus gives in his own voice as narrator in 6.102–17, which calls attention to the Plataeans' role in Page 152 → the battle, can be seen as a corrective to the epitaphic version of Marathon (as reflected in 9.27.5), which omits the Plataeans' role entirely. Herodotus expects readers to conclude that his own account of Marathon in 6.102–17 is based on the careful research that he has conducted as an inquirer, while the Athenians' account in

9.27.5 is based solely on the distorted view of history promulgated by epitaphioi. In the process, the superiority of Herodotus' method as an inquirer, along with his overall reliability, will be evident to readers. In addition, Herodotus expects readers to associate the Athenian speakers in 9.27 ultimately with the Persian logioi and the Phoenicians from the prologue (1.1–5.2). Just as the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue relate self-interested versions of Greek myths, designed to pass the blame for East-West enmity from the shoulders of the Persians or Phoenicians squarely onto those of the Greeks, so too do the Athenian speakers in 9.27.2–4—in their four ancient achievements—relate self-interested versions of Greek myths, designed to glorify the Athenians. Herodotus' readers would have learned from reading the prologue of the Histories to be suspicious of the selfserving aims of the stories that people tell. This didactic function of the prologue, moreover, would have given readers the confidence to question the validity of the self-serving claim the Athenian speakers make in 9.27.5 that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon.

Ancient vs. Recent Achievements in the Tegean-Athenian Debate (9.26–28.1) The Athenian speakers' claim in 9.27.5 that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon fits into the logic of the debate between the Tegeans and Athenians at Plataea (9.26–28.1) because both parties in this debate recount the achievements of their respective states both in the ancient and in the more recent past. It is in reference to the recent past that the Athenian speakers mention their achievement at Marathon in 9.27.5. Herodotus introduces the debate with the following words. ἐνθαῦτα ἐν τῇ διατάξι ἐγένετο λόγων πολλὸς ὠθισμὸς Τεγεητέων τε καὶ Ἀθηναίων· ἐδικαίευν γὰρ αὐτοὶ ἑκάτεροι ἔχειν τὸ ἕτερον κέρας, καὶ καινὰ καὶ παλαιὰ παραφέροντες ἔργα. [Then in the drawing up [of the army] there arose a great jostling of words [between] the Tegeans and the Athenians; for each of them Page 153 → thought it right that they themselves have [command of] the other [i.e., the left] wing, while citing both recent and ancient achievements.] (9.26.1) Not only does the concept of ἔργον (“achievement”) loom large in the debate as a whole (9.26–28.1), but also the antonymous adjectives “recent” (καινά) and “ancient” (παλαιά) in reference to the Tegeans' and Athenians' “achievements” (ἔργα) appear repeatedly in the debate.2 In their individual speeches, the Tegean speakers and the Athenian speakers even echo, if in slightly altered form, Herodotus' phrase “recent and ancient achievements” (καινὰ καὶ παλαιὰ…ἔργα) from 9.26.1: the Tegeans refer to “achievements…neither recent nor ancient” (ἔργα…οὔτ[ε]…καινὰ οὔτε παλαιά, 9.26.7); the Athenians to achievements both “ancient and recent” (παλαιά τε καὶ καινά, 9.27.1). In the first of the two speeches given at Plataea, Herodotus has the Tegean speakers eschew “recent” achievements (erga) and instead concentrate on one “ancient” ergon—the victory of their king Echemus over Hyllus, son of Heracles (9.26.2–7). The Tegean speakers state that, among the allies of the Lacedaemonians, they have always had command of the left wing in battle, ever since the Heracleidae tried to return to the Peloponnese upon the death of the Mycenaean king Eurystheus (9.26.2). At that time, say the Tegean speakers, when the Lacedaemonians and their allies had gathered at the Isthmus to block the passage of the Heracleidae into the Peloponnese, the “story” (λόγος) is that Hyllus, leader of the Heracleidae, issued a proclamation (9.26.3). Hyllus proposed that, rather than the two armies clashing in battle, he himself would “fight in single combat” (μουνομαχῆσαι) whomever the Peloponnesians deemed “best” (ἄριστον) from their own number. The Peloponnesians agreed to this proposal on the condition that if Hyllus won, the Heracleidae could return to the Peloponnese, but that if Hyllus lost, the Heracleidae would depart and wait a hundred years before trying again to return to the Peloponnese (9.26.4). “Willingly” (ἐθελοντής) chosen out of all the allies to fight Hyllus, the Tegean speakers claim, was their king and general, Echemus (9.26.5).3 In single combat (ἐμουνομάχησε), Echemus fought Hyllus and killed him. The concept of ergon (“achievement”) figures prominently in the conclusion of the Tegean speakers' words in 9.26. According to the Tegean speakers, it is “as a result of this achievement” (ἐκ τούτου τοῦ ἔργου)—namely,

Echemus' victory over Hyllus—that the Tegeans have always had Page 154 → command of the left wing of the allied Peloponnesian army (9.26.5). The Tegean speakers end their speech as follows. τοῦ δὲ ἑτέρου φαμὲν ἡμέας ἱκνέεσθαι ἡγεμονεύειν κατά περ ἐν τῷ πρόσθε χρόνῳ. 4 χωρίς τε τούτου τοῦ ἀπηγημένου ἔργου ἀξιονικότεροί εἰμεν Ἀθηναίων ταύτην τὴν τάξιν ἔχειν. πολλοὶ μὲν γὰρ καὶ εὖ ἔχοντες πρὸς ὑμέας ἡμῖν, ἄνδρες Σπαρτιῆται, ἀγῶνες ἀγωνίδαται, πολλοὶ δὲ καὶ πρὸς ἄλλους. οὕτω ὦν δίκαιον ἡμέας ἔχειν τὸ ἕτερον κέρας ἤ περ Ἀθηναίους· οὐ γάρ σφί ἐστι ἔργα οἷά περ ἡμῖν κατεργασμένα, οὔτ’ ὦν καινὰ οὔτε παλαιά. We assert that it is fitting that we have command of the other [wing], just as in earlier times. Apart from the achievement that has been described, we are more worthy of being preferred than the Athenians to have this station. For many, successful wars have been waged by us on your behalf, men of Sparta, and many also on others' behalf. In this way, then, it is just that we have [command of] the other wing rather than the Athenians; for they do not have achievements of the sort that we have achieved, neither recent nor ancient ones. (9.26.6–7) It is not just upon Echemus' achievement, which the Tegean speakers have just narrated (τούτου τοῦ ἀπηγημένου ἔργου), that the Tegeans stake their claim to command of the left wing (9.26.6). The Tegean speakers cite the Tegeans' many services to the Lacedaemonians and to others in war. The Athenians simply cannot boast of the kind of achievements (ἔργα) that the Tegeans have achieved (κατεργασμένα) (9.26.7). By applying to the Tegeans a form of the cognate verb κατεργάζεσθαι, the Tegean speakers further emphasize the Tegeans' connection to ἔργα. Conversely, one way that Herodotus has the Athenian speakers in their speech (9.27) undermine the Tegean claim to command is by linking the Tegeans not to “achievements” (ἔργα), but to “words” (λόγοι). Thus, the Athenian speakers in 9.27 exploit the logos/ergon antithesis that forms such a prominent part in Greek thought of the fifth and fourth centuries BCE.5 The Athenian speakers establish this strategy in the first sentence of their speech. “We had mistakenly supposed” (ἐπιστάμεθα), say the Athenian speakers, that the Greeks had gathered “for the sake of battle…not of Page 155 → words” (μάχης εἵνεκα…οὐ λόγων) (9.27.1). Whereas the Athenians are ready to fight and to achieve erga in battle, the Athenian speakers imply that all the Tegeans are prepared to do is talk and bandy about logoi. The Athenian speakers' statement recalls Herodotus' own reference to the “great jostling of words” (λόγων πολλὸς ὠθισμός, 9.26.1) that constitutes the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians.6 As their speech continues, the Athenian speakers in 9.27 further develop the Tegeans' connection with logoi and estrangement from erga. In the second sentence of their speech (9.27.1), the Athenian speakers say the following. ἐπεὶ δὲ ὁ Τεγεήτης προέθηκε παλαιά τε καὶ καινὰ λέγειν τὰ ἑκατέροισι ἐν τῷ παντὶ χρόνῳ κατέργασται χρηστά, ἀναγκαίως ἡμῖν ἔχει δηλῶσαι πρὸς ὑμέας ὅθεν ἡμῖν πατρώιόν ἐστι ἐοῦσι χρηστοῖσι αἰεὶ πρώτοισι εἶναι μᾶλλον ἢ Ἀρκάσι. [Since the Tegean has set as our task to speak of the good things, both ancient and recent, that have been achieved by each of us in all time, it is necessary for us to show you how it is ancestral for us, who are brave, always to be foremost rather than for Arcadians.7] (9.27.1) The Athenian speakers say that the Tegeans have established the rules for their debate. They are each to “speak of the good/useful things, both ancient and recent” (παλαιά τε καὶ καινὰ λέγειν…χρηστά) that they have accomplished. It is significant that the Athenian speakers omit the word that both Herodotus (9.26.1) and the Tegean speakers (9.26.7) use with the pair of adjectives παλαιά and καινά: ἔργα. So tenuous is the Tegeans' claim to having achieved ἔργα, the Athenian speakers imply, that even their talk (λέγειν) of their ἔργα amounts to nothing. With the verb form κατέργασται, the Athenian speakers echo the Tegean speakers' κατεργασμένα (9.26.7), but only when the Athenian speakers clearly admit the Athenians also (ἑκατέροισι), and not just the Tegeans, into the world of “achieving.” Although the Athenian speakers deny the Tegeans ἔργα in 9.27.1, they do give them λόγοι, in the form of the cognate verb λέγειν. Page 156 →

As narrator Herodotus himself links the Tegeans closer to logoi in the course of the debate than he does the Athenians. First, he has the Tegean speakers call their account of Echemus' victory a λόγος (9.26.3). Second, he uses the verb λέγειν in connection with the Tegeans, but not with the Athenians. Herodotus brackets the Tegean speakers' speech with the form ἔλεγον (“they said”): τοῦτο μὲν οἱ Τεγεῆται ἔλεγον τάδε (9.26.2), οἱ μὲν ταῦτα ἔλεγον (9.27.1). He brackets the Athenian speakers' speech, however, with verbs meaning “reply” or “answer” (ὑποκρίνεσθαι, ἀμείβεσθαι): Ἀθηναῖοι δὲ πρὸς ταῦτα ὑπεκρίναντο τάδε (9.27.1), οἱ μὲν ταῦτα ἀμείβοντο (9.28.1). By joining with the Athenian speakers in associating the Tegeans with λόγοι and dissociating them from ἔργα, Herodotus focuses readers' attention squarely on the Athenian claim to ἔργα. While the Athenians continue in the rest of their speech (9.27.2–6) to chip away at the Tegeans on the subject of erga, they also take up another important theme from the Tegean speakers' speech—namely, the idea of acting “alone.” In support of their bid for command, the Athenian speakers cite several episodes from Athens' past. Unlike the Tegean speakers, who concentrate on one “ancient” (παλαιόν) achievement, the victory of Echemus, the Athenians treat four “ancient” achievements and then end with one “recent” (καινόν) achievement—their victory at Marathon. First, the Athenian speakers tell of the aid that Athens gave to the Heracleidae when the latter, persecuted by Eurystheus, were turned away from each city in which they sought refuge. Not only did the Athenians “alone receive” (μοῦνοι ὑποδεξάμενοι) the Heracleidae, say the Athenian speakers, but together with the Heracleidae the Athenians also defeated in battle the Peloponnesians—including, apparently, Eurystheus (9.27.2).8 The Athenian speakers' claim that the Athenians “alone” (μοῦνοι) received the Heracleidae effectively matches the Tegean speakers' claim that the Tegean king Echemus “alone” fought (ἐμουνομάχησε, 9.26.5) the Heraclid Hyllus. But a significant difference between the two claims is that whereas the Tegean speakers speak of a singular “alone” in reference to the Tegeans' ancient king, the democratic Athenians stress the cooperative action of a plural “alone” that was evident even in Athens' distant past. The final three descriptions of ancient Athenian achievements (erga) that are related by the Athenian speakers in 9.27 are progressively briefer and less detailed. Second in the list of ancient erga is the Athenians' burial of Page 157 → Polynices and his Argive supporters—the famous Seven against Thebes—in their own territory of Eleusis (9.27.3). According to the Athenian speakers, the Athenians successfully went to war with the Thebans to recover the bodies, which lay unburied outside the walls of Thebes. Third, the Athenian speakers say that the Athenians can lay claim to another “successful achievement” (ἔργον εὖ ἔχον): their repulse of the Amazons who once invaded Attica (9.27.4). The phrase εὖ ἔχον (“successful”) matches the Tegean speakers' εὖ ἔχοντες (9.26.7). Whereas the Tegean speakers applied the phrase to the “wars” (ἀγῶνες) that the Tegeans have waged, the Athenian speakers pointedly apply the phrase to one of their own ἔργα. Fourth, and briefest of all, is the Athenian speakers' allusion to the Athenians' role in the Trojan War, in which the Athenians were “inferior to none” (οὐδαμῶν ἐλειπόμεθα, 9.27.4). The theme of ἔργα (“achievements”) that has formed such a big part of the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians reaches its culmination when the Athenian speakers move from the ancient achievements of Athens to a more recent achievement of hers (9.27.5–6). This more recent achievement, according to the Athenian speakers, is the Athenians' victory over the Persians at the Battle of Marathon. παλαιῶν μέν νυν ἔργων ἅλις ἔστω· ἡμῖν δὲ εἰ μηδὲν ἄλλο ἐστὶ ἀποδεδεγμένον, ὥσπερ ἐστὶ πολλά τε καὶ εὖ ἔχοντα εἰ τέοισι καὶ ἄλλοισι Ἑλλήνων, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἐν Μαραθῶνι ἔργου ἄξιοί εἰμεν τοῦτο τὸ γέρας ἔχειν καὶ ἄλλα πρὸς τούτῳ, οἵτινες μοῦνοι Ἑλλήνων δὴ μουνομαχήσαντες τῷ Πέρσῃ καὶ ἔργῳ τοσούτῳ ἐπιχειρήσαντες περιεγενόμεθα καὶ ἐνικήσαμεν ἔθνεα ἕξ τε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα. ἆρ’ οὐ δίκαιοί εἰμεν ἔχειν ταύτην τὴν τάξιν ἀπὸ τούτου μούνου τοῦ ἔργου; Now let that be enough of ancient achievements. If no other [achievement] has been displayed by us, [in as much] as many successful [achievements have been displayed by us] if by any other Greeks, at any rate from the achievement at Marathon we are worthy of having this honor and others in addition to this, we who alone of Greeks, while fighting in single combat with the Persian and while setting our hands to so great an achievement, survived and defeated forty-six nations. Do we not justly have this station from this achievement alone? (9.27.5–6)

Four times the word ἔργον appears in these lines (ἔργων, ἔργου, ἔργῳ, 9.27.5; ἔργου, 9.27.6), and it can be understood at least one more time as Page 158 → the subject of the verb ἀποδείκνυναι (ἐστὶ ἀποδεδεγμένον, 9.27.5).9 In this passage, the Athenian speakers reach the achievement (Marathon) upon which the Athenians essentially base their claim to command of the left wing. If the focus of the Tegean speakers' speech is Echemus' ergon, the focus of the Athenian speakers' entire speech is their ergon at Marathon (τοῦ ἐν Μαραθῶνι ἔργου). Culminating in this passage (9.27.5–6) as well is the theme of acting “alone.” As becomes clear, the Athenian speakers' earlier claim that the Athenians “alone” had aided the Heracleidae (9.27.2) is hardly their final answer to the Tegean speakers' claim that Echemus “alone” defeated Hyllus (9.26.5). By emphasizing the ergon the Athenians achieved while fighting “alone” at Marathon, the Athenian speakers seek to trivialize completely the paltry ergon Echemus achieved while fighting “alone” against Hyllus. Indeed, the Athenian speakers apparently attribute the status of “achievement” (ἔργον) to their momentous victory at Marathon largely because they had acted “alone” in defeating the Persians. The Athenian speakers stress (9.27.5) that at Marathon the Athenians “alone” (μοῦνοι) fought “alone” (μουνομαχήσαντες) against the Persians. Again, the democratic Athenians highlight group action, exchanging the singular ἐμουνομάχησε (9.26.5) used by the Tegean speakers of Echemus for the plural μουνομαχήσαντες used of the Athenian citizen body as a whole. And whereas the Tegean Echemus “alone” only defeated one man (Hyllus), the Athenians “alone” at Marathon defeated a far more numerous enemy: the Athenian speakers claim that “…we survived and defeated forty-six nations” (περιεγενόμεθα καὶ ἐνικήσαμεν ἔθνεα ἕξ τε καὶ τεσσεράκοντα, 9.27.5). How much greater, then, is the Athenian achievement than Echemus'! To further underline the connection in their account of Marathon between the theme of ἔργα and the theme of acting “alone” the Athenian speakers even apply the adjective μοῦνος to the noun ἔργον: should the Athenians not be awarded the command, the Athenian speakers ask, on the basis of the Athenians' “achievement” at Marathon “alone” (μούνου τοῦ ἔργου, 9.27.6)? When the Athenian speakers have finished speaking (9.27.6), the Lacedaemonian army responds favorably (9.28.1) to what the Athenian speakers have said. Indeed, not only do the Lacedaemonians award the command of the left wing to the Athenians, but also they appear to continue the overall Page 159 → derisive tone that the Athenian speakers used in their response (9.27) to the Tegean speakers' speech (9.26). Herodotus concludes the debate between the Tegeans and Athenians at Plataea with the following words. οἱ μὲν ταῦτα ἀμείβοντο, Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ἀνέβωσε ἅπαν τὸ στρατόπεδον Ἀθηναίους ἀξιονικοτέρους εἶναι ἔχειν τὸ κέρας ἤ περ Ἀρκάδας. οὕτω δὴ ἔσχον οἱ Ἀθηναῖοι καὶ ὑπερεβάλοντο τοὺς Τεγεήτας. [The [Athenians] answered [with] these words. But all the army of the Lacedaemonians shouted out that Athenians were more worthy of being preferred to have [command of] the wing than Arcadians. In this way the Athenians got [command of the wing] and overcame the Tegeans.] (9.28.1) Speaking in indirect discourse, the Lacedaemonian army repeats from the Tegean speakers' speech the adjective ἀξιόνικος (ἀξιονικοτέρους; cf. ἀξιονικότεροι, 9.26.6) and from the Athenian speakers' speech the noun Ἀρκάς (Ἀρκάδας; cf. Ἀρκάσι, 9.27.1). The Lacedaemonians pick up the rather unusual adjective ἀξιόνικος from the Tegean speakers and apply the term to the Athenians instead.10 In effect, the Lacedaemonians seem to mock the Tegeans by taking the word ἀξιόνικος and throwing it back at them. The Lacedaemonians follow the Athenian speakers in identifying the Tegeans by their home region and calling them “Arcadians” (Ἀρκάδες). In addition, both the Athenian speakers and Lacedaemonians use a form of Ἀρκάς in a comparison with the Athenians themselves (ἢ Ἀρκάσι, 9.27.1; ἤ περ Ἀρκάδας, 9.28.1). Only one other time in the Histories does someone other than Herodotus himself refer to “Arcadians,” and in that passage the appellation has a negative connotation: Aristagoras, tyrant of Miletus, asks the Spartan king Cleomenes whether the latter would prefer to win in battle the impoverished lands of Arcadians (Ἀρκάδας) or of Argives, rather than the wealthy lands of Asians (5.49.8).11 Perhaps the Athenian speakers in 9.27.1 join Aristagoras in alluding to the notorious backwardness of those Page 160 → who came from the mountainous region of Arcadia. If so, then the Lacedaemonian army in 9.28.1 dismisses the Tegeans derisively as “Arcadians,” just as the Athenian speakers do in 9.27.1.12 The end result is that the debate looks unfair, with the Tegeans having to contend not simply with the Athenians,

but with Herodotus and the Lacedaemonians as well. We saw, for example, that by associating the Tegeans with “words” (logoi) and with “speaking” (legein), Herodotus undercuts the Tegeans' claims to “achievements” (erga) and, conversely, supports the Athenians' claims to erga. It is an unfair fight, made even less fair, as Herodotus could expect his readers to realize, by the way the Athenian speakers in 9.27 exploit the epitaphic tradition in shaping their account of the Battle of Marathon. A very important point that should not be overlooked is that the Athenians win the debate; the Lacedaemonian army awards them, not the Tegeans, command of the left wing. The Lacedaemonian army, at any rate, does not appear to be critical of the Athenian speakers' speech in 9.27, nor of the epitaphic tradition that lies behind the speakers' speech. It appears that, since the Battle of Marathon is the focus of the Athenian speakers' speech, it is in large part because of the epitaphic tradition about Marathon that the Lacedaemonians are persuaded to award the command to the Athenians. With this episode (9.26–28.1), Herodotus implies that the epitaphic version of Athens' past, no matter how tendentious it may be, can still be quite persuasive. With the epitaphic tradition of Marathon arrayed against them, the Tegeans appear to stand little chance in the debate.

Herodotus on Marathon and Plataeans When readers of the Histories encounter the Tegean-Athenian debate in 9.26–28.1, they will have already read a different version of the battle—one narrated by Herodotus himself (6.102–17). According to Herodotus, while the Athenian army awaits the arrival of the Persians at Marathon, the Plataeans come to their aid with their entire military force (ἐπῆλθον βοηθέοντες Πλαταιέες πανδημεί, 6.108.1). The Athenians are arrayed on the right of the combined Athenian-Plataean battle line and command the right wing (τοῦ…δεξιοῦ κέρεος; κέρας τὸ δεξιόν), while the Plataeans are arrayed Page 161 → on and command the left wing (τὸ εὐώνυμον κέρας) (6.111.1). During the battle, although the Persians broke through the middle of the Greek line, “regarding each of the two [Greek] wings,” says Herodotus, “the Athenians and the Plataeans were victorious” (τὸ…κέρας ἑκάτερον ἐνίκων Ἀθηναῖοί τε καὶ Πλαταιέες, 6.113.1); the wings then closed in around and defeated the Persians who had broken through the middle (6.113.2). Herodotus explains exactly why the Plataeans brought aid to the Athenians at Marathon in 490 BCE by describing the history of the two peoples' relationship with each other. He begins 6.108 by noting that “when Athenians [at Marathon] had been drawn up at a precinct of Heracles, Plataeans came, bringing aid in full force” (Ἀθηναίοισι δὲ τεταγμένοισι ἐν τεμένει Ἡρακλέος ἐπῆλθον βοηθέοντες Πλαταιέες πανδημεί, 6.108.1). Immediately after this, Herodotus makes the following statement. καὶ γὰρ καὶ ἐδεδώκεσαν σφέας αὐτοὺς τοῖσι Ἀθηναίοισι οἱ Πλαταιέες, καὶ πόνους ὑπὲρ αὐτῶν Ἀθηναῖοι συχνοὺς ἤδη ἀναραιρέατο· ἔδοσαν δὲ ὧδε. [For in fact the Plataeans had given themselves to the Athenians, and Athenians had already undertaken numerous toils on their behalf. They gave [themselves] in the following way.] (6.108.1) Herodotus relates that (at some unspecified time in the past) the Plataeans, hard-pressed by the Thebans, “tried to give themselves” (ἐδίδοσαν…σφέας αὐτούς, 6.108.2) to king Cleomenes and the Lacedaemonians. The Lacedaemonians, however, refused the offer, saying that Lacedaemon is too far from Plataea. The Plataeans could be “enslaved” (ἐξανδραποδισθέντες) many times over, say the Lacedaemonians, before those in Lacedaemon would even hear of it. “But we advise you,” the Lacedaemonians continue, “to give yourselves to the Athenians” (συμβουλεύομεν δὲ ὑμῖν δοῦναι ὑμέας αὐτοὺς Ἀθηναίοισι), who live nearer to Plataea and are more than capable of aiding the Plataeans (6.108.3). Herodotus adduces nefarious motives for the Lacedaemonians' offering this advice: the Lacedaemonians want the Athenians to do battle with the Boeotians (the Thebans, above all). Nevertheless, the Plataeans follow the Lacedaemonians' advice in 6.108 and go to Athens. While “sitting as suppliants” (ἱκέται ἱζόμενοι) at the altar of the twelve gods in the Athenian agora, the Plataeans, says Herodotus, “tried to give themselves” (ἐδίδοσαν σφέας αὐτούς) to the Athenians (6.108.4). This time, the Plataeans are successful. When the Thebans learn of the Plataeans' overture to the Athenians, they begin to wage war against Page 162 → the Plataeans, but the Athenians come to the latter's aid (Ἀθηναῖοι δέ σφι ἐβοήθεον). The Athenians

eventually defeat the Thebans and even extend the boundary of Plataean territory at the Thebans' expense (6.108.5–6). “And so,” Herodotus concludes, “the Plataeans gave themselves to the Athenians in the way that I have described, and at that time [the Plataeans] had come to Marathon, bringing aid” (ἔδοσαν μὲν δὴ οἱ Πλαταιέες σφέας αὐτοὺς Ἀθηναίοισι τρόπῳ τῷ εἰρημένῳ, ἧκον δὲ τότε ἐς Μαραθῶνα βοηθέοντες, 6.108.6). The main unifying element in this episode is the phrase “to give oneself to someone” (διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι), which occurs no fewer than six times in 6.108. Of the twenty occurrences of the phrase “to give oneself to someone” (διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι) in Herodotus' Histories, the six in 6.108 are admittedly the only ones which involve a people “giving itself” to Greeks (i.e., the Athenians). In the other occurrences of the phrase, it is always a barbarian king (or people) or a god to whom someone “gives himself.”13 The phrase διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι seems to indicate, therefore, that an inferior party is entering into some sort of a relationship with another, superior party. In all cases in which human beings and not gods are involved, however, it does not follow that the relationship connoted by the phrase “to give oneself to someone” (διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι) is always one of political “slavery.”14 Had Herodotus believed that the relationship the Plataeans entered into with the Athenians in 6.108 was actually one of “slavery,” he had at his disposal a variety of δουλ- root words with which to describe this relationship. In fact, the general Greek word for “slave,” δοῦλος, and its many cognates, such as δουλοσύνη (“slavery /subjection”), occur far more often in the Histories in reference to political “slavery” than to actual chattel slavery.15 Greeks are political “slaves” (as indicated by a word containing the δουλ- root) to other Greeks in the Histories, however, only when Greek tyrants and despots are the “masters”: the tyrants Syloson (3.140.5), Aeaces Page 163 → (6.22.1), and Hippocrates (7.154.2); and the king Eurystheus (9.27.2). Thus, Herodotus never uses a δουλ- root word to refer to one Greek city-state “enslaving” another. That Herodotus chooses repeatedly in 6.108 to apply different (non-δουλ- root) terminology to the particular relationship between the Plataeans and the Athenians could, in fact, be seen as an attempt on Herodotus' part, with the phraseology he had at hand, to distinguish the Plataeans' dependence on Athens from any form of “slavery.”16 For his part, Thucydides terms the relationship that existed between the Plataeans and the Athenians in 490 an “alliance” (ξυμμαχία). In 3.68.5, Thucydides relates that the Lacedaemonians and Thebans took the city of Plataea (427) “in the ninety-third year after [the Plataeans] became allies of the Athenians” (ἔτει τρίτῳ καὶ ἐνενηκοστῷ ἐπειδὴ Ἀθηναίων ξύμμαχοι ἐγένοντο). Thucydides appears to use the term “alliance” for this relationship as a more technically precise alternative to Herodotus' rather vague expression “to give oneself to someone” (διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι). That this was how Thucydides understood Herodotus' expression can be seen from 3.55.1. In this passage, part of the Plataean Debate (3.53–68), Thucydides depicts the Plataeans defending themselves before the Lacedaemonians and the Thebans, who are threatening Plataea with destruction in 427. δεομένων…ξυμμαχίας ὅτε Θηβαῖοι ἡμᾶς ἐβιάσαντο, ὑμεῖς ἀπεώσασθε καὶ πρὸς Ἀθηναίους ἐκελεύετε τραπέσθαι ὡς ἐγγὺς ὄντας, ὑμῶν δὲ μακρὰν ἀποικούντων. Page 164 →[When we were asking for an alliance, when the Thebans were pressing hard upon us, you [i.e., the Lacedaemonians] refused and urged us to turn to the Athenians on the grounds that they were near [to us], while you lived far away.] (3.55.1) These words refer to the events described in Herodotus 6.108.2–3 and constitute, in effect, an abbreviated paraphrase of that passage. The main difference between the two passages, other than their respective lengths, is that Thucydides has substituted ξυμμαχία for Herodotus' διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι. Or to put it another way, Thucydides translates the Herodotean expression “to give oneself to someone” (in 6.108) as, essentially, “to form an alliance.” Accordingly, during his narrative of the siege and destruction of Plataea (2.71–78, 3.20–24, and 3.52–68), Thucydides repeatedly uses the terms “allies” and “alliance” to refer to the relationship between the Plataeans and the Athenians.17 Whatever the exact nature of the Plataean-Athenian “alliance,” as Thucydides describes it, most scholars accept Thucydides' calculation in 3.68.5 that upon the destruction of Plataea in 427 BCE, that “alliance” ended, ninetythree years after it began. Consequently, scholars date the beginning of the particular relationship that still prevailed between Athens and Plataea at the Battle of Marathon—as recounted by Herodotus in 6.108—to 519.18

Scholars disagree, however, as to when the relationship that Plataea had with Athens in 490 came to an end. Based on the events described in Thucydides 2.71.2, some scholars date the end of the relationship in question to 479, in the aftermath of the Battle of Plataea.19 Thucydides narrates that Plataean envoys recall to the Lacedaemonians, who are preparing to lay waste to Plataean territory in 429, the actions of the Spartan regent Pausanias. Following the battle in 479, say the Plataeans, Pausanias offered sacrifice to Zeus Eleutherios in the Plataean agora and, ξυγκαλέσας πάντας τοὺς ξυμμάχους ἀπεδίδου Πλαταιεῦσι γῆν καὶ πόλιν τὴν σφετέραν ἔχοντας αὐτονόμους οἰκεῖν, στρατεῦσαί τε μηδένα ποτὲ ἀδίκως ἐπ’ αὐτοὺς μηδ’ ἐπὶ δουλείᾳ· εἰ δὲ μή, ἀμύνειν τοὺς παρόντας ξυμμάχους κατὰ δύναμιν. Page 165 → [having called together all the allies, conceded to the Plataeans that they live in and hold their land and city as independent people, and that no one ever wage war against them unjustly or for the purpose of enslaving them; and if not, that the allies who were present defend [the Plataeans] with all their power.20] (2.71.2) According to this scholarly interpretation, in 479, the particular alliance that the Plataeans had had with the Athenians for some forty years (519–479) officially came to an end. Against this position, other scholars argue that Thucydides 2.71.2 does not refer to the Athenians at all. The purpose of Pausanias' proclamation, say these scholars, was to give back to the Plataeans their land and city—both of which had been seized by the Persians during the course of the war.21 Upon this reading, the events described in Thucydides 2.71.2 had no direct effect on the nature of the alliance that the Plataeans had with the Athenians in 479, which was the same basic alliance that the Plataeans had had with the Athenians in 490 and which they continued to have with the Athenians until the destruction of Plataea in 427. How then should we characterize the relationship that existed between the Plataeans and the Athenians, especially at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE, but also in the majority of the fifth century? Again, many scholars accept Thucydides' designation “alliance” for this relationship.22 Kurt Raaflaub (2004) cautions, however, that “it was anything but an ‘equal alliance’” (76). Plataea's relationship to Athens was a particular kind of symmachy, known elsewhere as well, in which a threatened polis secured the urgently needed support of another polis by surrendering unconditionally (didonai heautous) but voluntarily and by assuming stringent obligations and yielding part of its sovereignty but doing so in a contractual relationship that bound both sides. (78) Thus, even though Plataea was unquestionably the subordinate member in the alliance with Athens, she still was an “ally,” not a “slave” or “subject,” and she had not been completely subsumed into the Athenian state, either. Page 166 → Plataea was an independent polis—however much that independence might have been restricted due to her alliance with Athens—and so deserved mention in any account of Marathon as one of the two Greek poleis that fought against the Persians in that battle. The epitaphic claim that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon was simply not fair to the Athenians' independent allies—the Plataeans—nor was it true. Relevant to Plataea's independent status as a polis is the evidence that at some time either in the fifth or late sixth century BCE, the Athenians granted the Plataeans a form of Athenian citizenship. The two main sources for this grant of citizenship are Thucydides and [Demosthenes] 59—an oration often attributed by scholars to its speaker, the colorful fourth-century Athenian political figure Apollodorus.23 Thucydides implies that the Plataeans received the citizenship at the same time as they formed their “alliance” with the Athenians (i.e., in 519).24 Apollodorus, on the other hand, implies that the Plataeans only became Athenian citizens once their city was destroyed in 427.25 Faced with this discrepancy, some scholars take a middle position, proposing that the Plataeans received two grants of citizenship: the first, an honorary citizenship in gratitude for the Plataeans' service to the Athenians at Marathon; the second, an official citizenship devised to incorporate the dispossessed Plataeans of 427 into the citizen body of Athens.26

Whatever the exact date or the extent of the grant(s) of citizenship to the Plataeans, however, even in the fourth century BCE, decades (or perhaps over a century) after any grant of Athenian citizenship to the Plataeans, the Athenians still considered the Plataeans, and the Plataeans still considered themselves, a separate, recognized national group.27 For example, Aeschines pointedly identifies one of the unsavory associates of his political rival Demosthenes as “a certain Aristion, a Plataean” (τις Ἀριστίων Πλαταϊκός, 3.162). Lysias reports, moreover, that in the cheese market in the deme of Decelea Plataeans regularly gathered on the last day of each month Page 167 → (23.6). There remained in the fourth century a clear distinction between Athenians, on the one hand, and Plataeans, on the other. Throughout the fifth and fourth centuries, then, no matter how closely the Plataeans were allied to the Athenians or how much the Plataeans counted as Athenian citizens, the Plataeans were still separate from the Athenians. Thus, any honest account of the Battle of Marathon, for example—whether in a funeral oration or anywhere else—should have mentioned the Plataeans along with the Athenians. As narrator, Herodotus himself assigns a largely independent role to the Plataeans in relation to their Athenian allies both at the Battle of Marathon and at other battles—a role that contrasts sharply with the epitaphic tradition which omits the Plataeans from the Battle of Marathon. Regarding the 127 ships that the Athenians provided for the Battle of Artemisium in 480 BCE, for example, Herodotus says that “although they had no experience with naval matters, the Plataeans out of courage and zeal helped the Athenians man the ships” (ὑπὸ δὲ ἀρετῆς τε καὶ προθυμίης Πλαταιέες ἄπειροι τῆς ναυτικῆς ἐόντες συνεπλήρουν τοῖσι Ἀθηναίοισι τὰς νέας, 8.1.1). Herodotus marks the Plataeans out as independent actors by ascribing “courage and zeal” as their motivating force for sailing with the Athenians. There is no apparent compulsion placed on the Plataeans to participate in the Battle of Artemisium, no matter how inferior their status may have been in their “alliance” with the Athenians. The Plataeans sailed with the Athenians at Artemisium of their own accord. Similarly, the Plataeans fought alongside the Athenians at the Battle of Plataea in 479. Herodotus reports (9.28.6) that in the Greek battle line at Plataea, 600 Plataeans stood beside 8,000 Athenians, who (as a result of the debate in 9.26–28.1) held the left wing. Although the Plataeans thus participated in the fighting at Artemisium and at Plataea, they did not fight at Salamis. Herodotus relates that for the Battle of Salamis in 480, the Athenians provided 180 ships, but did so “alone” (μοῦνοι, 8.44.1). ἐν Σαλαμῖνι γὰρ οὐ συνεναυμάχησαν Πλαταιέες Ἀθηναίοισι διὰ τοιόνδε τι πρῆγμα· ἀπαλλασσομένων τῶν Ἑλλήνων ἀπὸ τοῦ Ἀρτεμισίου, ὡς ἐγίνοντο κατὰ Χαλκίδα, οἱ Πλαταιέες ἀποβάντες ἐς τὴν περαίην τῆς Βοιωτίης χώρης πρὸς ἐκκομιδὴν ἐτράποντο τῶν οἰκετέων. οὗτοι μέν νυν τούτους σῴζοντες ἐλείφθησαν. [For at Salamis Plataeans did not help Athenians in the sea battle because of the following matter. As the Greeks were departing from Page 168 → Artemisium, when they were off Chalcis, the Plataeans disembarked on the opposite shore of Boeotia and turned to the evacuation of their households. So [the Plataeans] were left behind while conveying these to safety.] (8.44.1) The Plataeans are here independent actors; they are free to direct their attention to moving their families out of harm's way, rather than to sailing with the Athenians at Salamis. Again, the Plataeans are not compelled by the Athenians to join in the fighting. Still, the close relationship between the Plataeans and the Athenians that was evident at Artemisium (8.1.1), at Plataea (9.28.6), and also at Marathon (6.102–17)—a relationship that stretches back to the Plataeans' “giving themselves” to the Athenians (probably) in 519 BCE (6.108)—is evident at Salamis (8.44.1) as well. In contrast to the Battle of Artemisium, where Herodotus notes that the Plataeans do help the Athenians man their ships (8.1.1), at the Battle of Salamis, the Athenians are “alone” (μοῦνοι, 8.44.1) in manning their 180 ships because the Plataeans specifically do not help them man their ships. Without the Plataeans, the Athenians are “alone.” By this logic, the very fact that the Plataeans come to the Athenians' aid in Herodotus' narrative of the Battle of Marathon (6.102–17) means that, in Herodotus' view, the Athenians do not fight “alone” at Marathon. The way that Herodotus describes the Plataeans' contributions to the Athenian cause in the battles of Artemisium and of Salamis, therefore, must be placed alongside his description of the Plataeans' contribution in the Battle of Marathon. Only at Salamis, where the Plataeans do not participate in the fighting, does Herodotus say that the

Athenians fight “alone.” This appears to be a conscious critique by Herodotus on the epitaphic claim that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon. Following Herodotus' narrative in 6.102–17, the Athenians (as in 9.27.5) cannot honestly claim to have fought “alone” at Marathon precisely because they had received such prominent aid from the Plataeans in that battle.28 In addition to stressing in his own narrative of Marathon (6.102–17) the Plataeans' role in the battle, Herodotus also indicates that, despite epitaphic indications to the contrary, the Athenian state itself recognized and even celebrated the Plataeans' contributions at Marathon. Herodotus mentions Page 169 → a special prayer in honor of the Plataeans given at the Great Panathenaea festival, held every four years in Athens. In the course of his narrative of Marathon, Herodotus makes the following report. ἀπὸ ταύτης γάρ σφι τῆς μάχης Ἀθηναίων θυσίας ἀναγόντων ἐς πανηγύριας τὰς ἐν τῇσι πεντετηρίσι γινομένας κατεύχεται ὁ κῆρυξ ὁ Ἀθηναῖος ἅμα τε Ἀθηναίοισι λέγων γίνεσθαι τὰ ἀγαθὰ καὶ Πλαταιεῦσι. [For since the time of this battle of theirs, when Athenians offer sacrifice at the religious gatherings that take place at the four-yearly festival, an Athenian herald prays that there be good things for Plataeans as well as for Athenians.] (6.111.2) This joint prayer for the Athenians and the Plataeans, instituted at the most important festival in the Athenian religious calendar, is hard to comprehend if, as Attic funeral orations would have us to believe, the Athenians universally overlooked the Plataeans' role at Marathon. Moreover, the prayer's significance as a memorial for the Plataeans' contribution at Marathon would have been hard for later Athenians to miss. Another public acknowledgement by the Athenians of the important role the Plataeans played at Marathon (not mentioned by Herodotus) was found among the paintings in the Stoa Poikile, the “Painted Stoa,” built around 460 BCE, and located in the Athenian agora.29 One of the paintings inside the stoa depicted the Battle of Marathon, as Pausanias describes in the following passage. τελευταῖον δὲ τῆς γραφῆς εἰσιν οἱ μαχεσάμενοι Μαραθῶνι· Βοιωτῶν δὲ οἱ Πλάταιαν ἔχοντες καὶ ὅσον ἦν Ἀττικὸν ἴασιν ἐς χεῖρας τοῖς βαρβάροις. [Those who fought at Marathon [occupy] the last [part] of the painting: of Boeotians those who hold Plataea and all who were Attic come to grips with the barbarians.] (1.15.3) This very painting is cited as proof of Plataean heroism at Marathon in [Demosthenes] 59. In the course of a long discussion on the Plataeans, Apollodorus makes the following statement. Page 170 → Πλαταιῆς γάρ, ὦ ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, μόνοι τῶν Ἑλλήνων ὑμῖν ἐβοήθησαν Μαραθῶνάδε…καὶ ἔτι καὶ νῦν τῆς ἀνδραγαθίας αὐτῶν ὑπομνήματα ἡ ἐν τῇ ποικίλῃ στοᾷ γραφὴ δεδήλωκεν· ὡς ἔκαστος γὰρ τάχους εἶχεν, εὐθὺς προσβοηθῶν γέγραπται, οἱ τὰς κυνᾶς τὰς Βοιωτίας ἔχοντες. [For Plataeans, men of Athens, alone of the Greeks came to your aid at Marathon…and still even today the painting in the Stoa Poikile displays memorials of their courage; for [of] the ones who wear Boeotian helmets, each one has been depicted coming to aid, as quickly as he could.] (94) Like their prominence in the prayer given at the Panathenaea, the prominence of the Plataeans in the painting of Marathon in the Stoa Poikile—a painting that Athenians might view on a daily basis—speaks to the importance that fifth-century Athenians, at least in non-epitaphic contexts, placed on the Plataeans' contributions at Marathon.

The Athenians “Alone” at Marathon: An Epitaphic Topos It is now time to position the Athenian speakers' claim in 9.27.5 to have fought “alone” at Marathon within the

context of Attic funeral orations (ἐπιτάφιοι λόγοι).30 Most scholars, following Felix Jacoby (1944), date the beginning of the formal institution of the funeral oration in Athens, which was delivered by a distinguished speaker at the public burial of the previous year's war dead, to the mid-460s BCE.31 In addition, scholars usually set some time in the 420s as the final publication date for Herodotus' work.32 As a result of his likely sojourn in Athens, therefore, Herodotus probably gained some familiarity with the general outlines, at least, of an epitaphios.33 The conclusion that Herodotus was familiar with epitaphioi is supported, as Page 171 → many scholars have noted, by the presence of several themes characteristic of funeral orations in the speech that the Athenians give in their debate with the Tegeans in 9.27.34 One section in surviving epitaphioi is typically devoted to recounting, in varying degrees of detail, glorious achievements from Athens' mythical and historical past.35 The Athenians' speech in 9.27 definitely exhibits this feature. There are even certain stock achievements, listed in a more-or-less fixed order, that appear in many epitaphioi. Again, the Athenians' speech in 9.27 follows the set pattern of achievements (erga) fairly closely. The help given to the Heracleidae against Eurystheus, the war with Thebes and burial of Polynices and his supporters, the repulse of the Amazons, the victory at Marathon: all show up in extant funeral orations.36 Only the Athenians' brief mention of the Trojan War in 9.27.4 is anomalous; speakers usually pass over this event in silence.37 Marathon, however, occupies a special place in epitaphioi. On the one hand, Marathon is the earliest purely historical achievement that is mentioned in most of the orations; on the other hand, as the epitaphic tradition developed over time, Marathon took on much of the trappings of myth. In the Athenian imagination, Marathon came to represent a further example, if not the prime one, of Athenian courage/excellence (arete) and of selfsacrifice.38 According to the presentation of history found in epitaphioi, the Athenians had displayed these same qualities time and again in their past as the benefactors and saviors of their fellow Greeks.39 They had rescued Page 172 → Greece from the Amazons, for example, no less than from the Persians at Marathon. Within the context of the epitaphios, then, the Plataean contribution to Marathon could not stand. The Plataeans simply had no place in a patriotic tale of Athenian courage, self-sacrifice, and benefaction to Greece. Once they had deprived the Plataeans of their role in the battle, the Athenian speakers of epitaphioi jealously guarded Marathon as the only Persian War victory that they did not have to share with Sparta, Corinth, or any other leading Greek polis. It is not surprising, then, that the Battle of Plataea, which was won with an unprecedented amount of cooperation among Greek poleis, barely receives mention in epitaphioi.40 Athenian claims about Marathon also reflect a larger epitaphic concern with identifying the Athenians as the “first” (πρῶτοι) or “only” (μόνοι; Ionic μοῦνοι) Greeks to perform a given feat.41 Thus, in Plato's Menexenus, Socrates recites an epitaphios in which the Athenians at Marathon are honored as “the first to set up victory monuments over the barbarians” (πρῶτοι στήσαντες τρόπαια τῶν βαρβάρων, 240d). Speakers (or writers) of epitaphioi variously associate the word “alone” (monos) with the Athenians at Marathon. In his epitaphios (oration 2), Lysias argues, with regard to Athenian military self-sufficiency, that one reason the Athenians did not wait for aid against the Persians at Marathon was because “they thought that they would not be able to defeat even with allies those whom they could not defeat alone” (ἠξίουν…οὓς μὴ μόνοι νικῷεν, οὐδ’ ἂν μετὰ τῶν συμμάχων δύνασθαι, 2.24). Speaking of the land battle at Marathon and the sea battle at Salamis, Demosthenes in his epitaphios (oration 60) says that “those men [i.e., the Athenians] alone twice drove away both on land and sea the expedition that came from all of Asia” (ἐκεῖνοι τὸν ἐξ ἁπάσης τῆς Ἀσίας στόλον ἐλθόντα μόνοι δὶς ἠμύναντο καὶ κατὰ γῆν καὶ κατὰ θάλατταν, 60.10). Despite the claims of the epitaphic tradition (as evidenced by Demosthenes 60.10), the Athenians had hardly acted “alone” in defeating the Persians at Salamis, just as the Athenians had not entirely acted “alone” at Marathon (but had received help from the Plataeans). We may safely conclude, then, that Herodotus is indeed referencing Attic funeral orations when the Athenians in 9.27.5 say they “alone” (μοῦνοι) Page 173 → fought against the Persians at Marathon. Even so, Herodotus is adapting the epitaphic topos of the Athenians fighting “alone” at Marathon for his own authorial purposes. That Herodotus is adapting this topos finds support in his adaptation of another topos that figures prominently in epitaphioi, the logos/ergon antithesis. Speakers of epitaphioi frequently contrast the logos of the funeral oration itself with both the erga of the achievements narrated in the oration and the ergon of the burial of the dead in

whose honor the oration is given.42 We have seen, moreover, that in 9.26–28.1, Herodotus makes the logos/ergon antithesis a fundamental part of the dialogue between the Tegeans and the Athenians, with the Athenians seeking to dismiss Tegean claims to erga as mere logoi. The idea that Herodotus adapts for his own purposes the topos of the Athenians fighting alone at Marathon finds further support in his use of the same topos elsewhere in the Histories. In 7.10, after Xerxes has announced to the Persians his plans to invade Greece, Artabanus tries to dissuade the King from committing himself to an unnecessary expedition against a distant nation of formidable warriors. οἱ γὰρ ἄνδρες λέγονται εἶναι ἄλκιμοι, πάρεστι δὲ καὶ σταθμώσασθαι, εἰ στρατιήν γε τοσαύτην σὺν Δάτι καὶ Ἀρταφρένεϊ ἐλθοῦσαν ἐς τὴν Ἀττικὴν χώρην μοῦνοι Ἀθηναῖοι διέφθειραν. [For the men [i.e., the Greeks] are said to be warlike, and one may even judge [this from the fact that] Athenians alone destroyed as large an army as that which came with Datis and Artaphrenes to Attica.] (7.10β1) In an analepsis, Artabanus cites the Persian expedition sent by Darius under the generals Datis and Artaphrenes, which ended in disaster at Marathon in 490 BCE, as an example of what could happen, if misfortune strikes, to Xerxes' own invasion. Just as the Athenian speakers in 9.27.5 have self-serving aims in adopting the epitaphic topos of the Athenians' fighting alone against the Persians at Marathon, so too does Artabanus in 7.10β1.43 The Athenians in 9.27 are trying to convince the assembled Greeks that they should be given command Page 174 → of the left wing of the army at Plataea; thus, claiming that their own forefathers single-handedly defeated the Persians helps the Athenians make their case that, based on their past contributions to Greece, they fully deserve the command. Artabanus, in 7.10, is trying to convince Xerxes not to follow his stated intention (7.8) of invading Greece, nor to accept too readily the words of Mardonius (7.9), who has assured Xerxes that the Greeks will easily fall to the Persians; thus, citing the Athenians' defeat of the Persians at Marathon helps Artabanus make his case that the Persians would be wise not to underestimate the Greeks.44 Herodotus has both the Athenians in 9.27.5 and Artabanus in 7.10β1, then, put their trust in the persuasive force of the epitaphic topos that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon.45 Regarding the claim that the Athenian speakers make in 9.27.5 about Marathon, it is likely that Herodotus himself—rather than whatever his source might be for the debate that he reports in 9.26–28.1—imported the claim into this passage. There can be little doubt, at any rate, that Herodotus is the source for Artabanus' claim in 7.10β1 that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon, both on logical—how would a Persian have heard an epitaphios? —and chronological—Artabanus' speech in 7.10 must date to the 480s BCE, the establishment of epitaphioi to the 460s—grounds. Similarly, since the Athenian speakers in 9.27 were speaking before the Battle of Plataea in 479, it is anachronistic for these Herodotean speakers in 9.27 to employ an epitaphic topos (about Marathon) a decade or so before the tradition of funeral orations even began in Athens. Moreover, it may very well be that the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians in 9.26–28.1 bears little resemblance to what really was said at Plataea. To apply Robert Fowler's (2003, 309) comments about the Constitutional Debate in 3.80–83 to the debate at Plataea in 9.26–28.1: [N]o one, I think, would regard it as a transcript of an actual conversation. It seems probable that, like much else in Herodotus, it is the Page 175 → creative expansion of a genuine report, or one Herodotus believed to be genuine; the speeches are what Herodotus believed would have been said on the occasion… Fowler's view of speeches in Herodotus' Histories is akin to Thucydides' description (1.22.1) of his own methods of recording speeches in his work. Herodotus puts into the Athenian speakers' mouths in the debate at Plataea (9.27) what he thought they would have said in that given situation. And it seems that Herodotus thought that Athenian speakers—in a situation such as the debate at Plataea that demanded persuasive, patriotic

rhetoric—would have appealed to epitaphic topoi such as that concerning the Athenians' fighting “alone” at Marathon. There is also a possibility, however, that a debate between the Athenians and the Tegeans at Plataea never took place at all. Michael Flower and John Marincola (2002) represent well scholarly ambivalence on the issue of the debate's historicity. On the one hand, they state (147) that “[t]here is no reason to doubt that this debate took place.” On the other, they count (29) the debate at Plataea as one of the episodes that his sources or Herodotus himself may have “elaborated (possibly even invented) to enhance the Athenians' contribution” to the victory, due largely to the Spartans, at Plataea. Most scholars argue that if the debate is historical, then Herodotus has inserted it in the wrong chronological frame: the decision on command of the left wing of the Greek army had to have already occurred, these scholars say, before the Greeks were arrayed on the Plataean battlefield, ready to face the Persians.46 Regardless of whether a debate at Plataea actually happened or not, the exact words spoken by the Tegeans and the Athenians in 9.26–27 are almost certainly Herodotus' own invention.47 That the “text” of the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians before the Battle of Plataea could be recorded differently by other writers can be seen in Plutarch's biography of the Athenian statesman Aristides. Just as Herodotus does, Plutarch relates that Tegeans and Athenians quarreled over command of the left wing at Plataea (Aristides 12). Although he quickly passes over what the Tegeans say in the debate, Plutarch strikingly agrees with Herodotus about the gist of the Tegeans' speech: the Tegeans cite past precedent that while the Lacedaemonians have commanded the right wing, they have always commanded Page 176 → the left; in addition, Plutarch says, they “praised their ancestors greatly” (πολλὰ τοὺς αὑτῶν προγόνους ἐγκωμιάζοντες, 12.1). Based on this close correspondence, as well as others, Plutarch's account of the debate between the Tegeans and the Athenians is probably based largely on Herodotus 9.26–28.1. When he comes to the Athenians' speech in Aristides 12, however, Plutarch breaks with Herodotus 9.27: Plutarch makes Aristides himself speak on behalf of his countrymen. The content of Aristides' speech has much in common with what the Athenian speakers say at the very end of their speech in Herodotus 9.27. Let us compare Herodotus 9.27.6 with the speech Plutarch attributes to Aristides. ἀλλ’ οὐ γὰρ ἐν τῷ τοιῷδε τάξιος εἵνεκα στασιάζειν πρέπει, ἄρτιοί εἰμεν πείθεσθαι ὑμῖν, ὦ Λακεδαιμόνιοι, ἵνα δοκέει ἐπιτηδεότατον ἡμέας εἶναι ἑστάναι καὶ κατ’ οὕστινας· πάντῃ γὰρ τεταγμένοι πειρησόμεθα εἶναι χρηστοί. ἐξηγέεσθε δὲ ὡς πεισομένων. [But since it is not fitting in such [a time] as this to quarrel over one's position [in the battle line], we are ready to obey you, Lacedaemonians, wherever it seems most appropriate that we be, to stand against whomever; for once we have been stationed in any place we will try to be brave men. So command us, because we will obey.] (9.27.6) Τεγεάταις μὲν ἀντιειπεῖν περὶ εὐγενείας καὶ ἀνδραγαθίας ὁ παρὼν καιρὸς οὐ δίδωσι· πρὸς δ’ ὑμᾶς ὦ Σπαρτιᾶται καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους Ἕλληνας λέγομεν, ὅτι τὴν ἀρετὴν οὐκ ἀφαιρεῖται τόπος οὐδὲ δίδωσιν· ἣν δ’ ἂν ὑμεῖς ἡμῖν τάξιν ἀποδῶτε, πειρασόμεθα κοσμοῦντες καὶ φυλάττοντες μὴ καταισχύνειν τοὺς προηγωνισμένους ἀγῶνας. ἥκομεν γὰρ οὐ τοῖς συμμάχοις στασιάσοντες, ἀλλὰ μαχούμενοι τοῖς πολεμίοις, οὐδ’ ἐπαινεσόμενοι τοὺς πατέρας, ἀλλ’ αὑτοὺς ἄνδρας ἀγαθοὺς τῇ Ἑλλάδι παρέξοντες· ὡς οὗτος ὁ ἀγὼν δείξει καὶ πόλιν καὶ ἄρχοντα καὶ ἰδιώτην ὁπόσου τοῖςἝλλησιν ἄξιός ἐστι. [The present occasion does not allow [us] to debate with Tegeans on birth and valor. But we say to you, Spartans, and all the rest of you Greeks that one's place [in the battle line] does not take away courage nor give it. Whatever position you grant us, we will try, while maintaining our good order, not to shame those [Athenians] who have contended [in] battles before [us]. For we have come not to quarrel with our allies, but to fight with our enemies, not for praising Page 177 → our fathers, but for showing [ourselves] to Greece [as] the same [kind of] brave men [as our fathers]. So will this battle show how much [each] city and commander and private soldier is worth to the Greeks.] (12.2–3)

Two clear thematic similarities emerge from the passages: the inopportuneness of the debate, and the promise by the Athenians to fight bravely no matter where they are stationed. Judging from these similarities, it appears that Aristides' speech consists mainly of an elaboration by Plutarch—or by his source for this story—of Herodotus 9.27.6.48 What is absent from Aristides' speech in Plutarch Aristides 12 is detailed discussion of Athens' past military glories. Both Herodotus' (9.26) and Plutarch's Tegeans talk of their ancestors' exploits, but Plutarch's Aristides decisively does not talk of the exploits of his Athenian ancestors. Aristides brings up the subject of ancient achievements, only to reject its relevance: he says that the Athenians have not come to Plataea to “praise our fathers.” By contrast, a significant part of the Athenians' speech in Herodotus 9.27 is taken up with recounting their past services to Greece. If Aristides' speech is based on Herodotus 9.27.6, then Plutarch (or his source) has deliberately excised the section of the Herodotean speech that deals with Athens' achievements. It may be that Plutarch found this section objectionable for some reason, or he may have wished to present Aristides in a specific way. Aristides does come across in his speech as especially noble, eschewing as he does any claims the Athenians might have to the command based on their past accomplishments and insisting that the Athenians will fight bravely no matter where the Lacedaemonians place them.49 According to Herodotus, however, not only do the Athenian speakers insist at the end of their speech (9.27.6) that the Athenians will fight bravely wherever they are placed in the line, but also the Athenian speakers answer the Tegean speakers' disquisition on Echemus' victory over Hyllus by recounting the Athenians' own achievements (9.27.2–5). Just as Plutarch consciously omits the latter section from Aristides' speech, Herodotus, it appears, consciously inserts it. The resulting epitaphic echoes that occur in the Athenians' speech in 9.27—including their claim to have fought “alone” at Marathon (9.27.5), then—represent deliberate verbal and thematic choices made by Herodotus. Page 178 → It is, in part, to counter the misleading epitaphic picture of Marathon—one that omitted the Plataeans' role in the battle—that Herodotus has constructed his own narrative of Marathon (6.102–17) in the particular way that he has.50 In 6.102–17, Herodotus pointedly stresses the Plataeans' contribution to the Athenians' victory at Marathon probably because the epitaphic tradition ignored the Plataeans' contribution. That Herodotus appears to have a larger goal of correcting misleading Greek traditions about the battles of the Persian War can be seen in the similar way that he constructs his narrative of the Battle of Thermopylae (7.175–77, 198–233).51 As Pietro Vannicelli (2007) has shown, Herodotus' stress on the Thespian contribution to the Greeks' last stand at Thermopylae seems designed to counteract the “Spartanocentric” tradition of the battle, which exclusively lionized the 300 Spartans under Leonidas' command, who all died trying to hold the pass against the invading Persian army. According to Herodotus, 700 men of Thespis also stayed to the end and perished fighting alongside Leonidas and his 300 Spartans. Just as Herodotus wants to correct the (Spartan) tradition about Thermopylae by putting the Thespians back into the story of that battle, so he wants to correct the (epitaphic and Athenian) tradition about Marathon by putting the Plataeans back into the story of that particular battle.

The Prologue (1.1–5) and the Athenian Speakers' Speech at Plataea (9.27) Through a double-pronged association of the words of the Athenian speakers in 9.27 with the prologue of the Histories (1.1–5), Herodotus involves readers themselves in the process of criticizing the epitaphic tradition of history as reflected in the Athenian speakers' claim about Marathon in 9.27.5. Herodotus wants to make the general point that the Athenian speakers in 9.27, as expounders of the epitaphic tradition, resemble Herodotus himself as an inquirer. Indeed, both the Athenian speakers in 9.27.5 and Herodotus himself give accounts of past historical events—in particular, the Battle of Marathon. With the connection between the Athenian speakers in 9.27 and himself as an inquirer in mind, therefore, Herodotus has the Athenian speakers in 9.27.4–5 echo his own words from 1.5.3–4, where Page 179 → Herodotus states his intention of moving (from ancient events) to the more recent historical figure of Croesus. And yet Herodotus finally distances himself as an inquirer—who is committed to reporting the truth to readers—from the Athenian speakers in 9.27 by associating the latter with the Persian logioi and the Phoenicians from 1.1–5.2. In the self-interested accounts of the past given by these figures in 1.1–5.2, Herodotus' readers have learned to read critically the stories that people tell. Thus, thanks to the didactic nature of the prologue, readers are able to detect the self-interest inherent in the Athenian speakers' claim

that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon (9.27.5).

1.1–5: Herodotus' Didactic Prologue Scholars have looked to the first sentence of the Histories (often called the proem) for a distillation both of the subject and of the purpose of Herodotus' work.52 The proem reads as follows. Ἡροσότου Ἁλικαρνησσέος ἱστορίης ἀπόδεξις ἥδε, ὡς μήτε τὰ γενόμενα ἐξ ἀνθρώπων τῷ χρόνῳ ἐξίτηλα γένηται, μήτε ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά, τὰ μὲν Ἕλλησι τὰ δὲ βαρβάροισι ἀποδεχθέντα, ἀκλεᾶ γένηται, τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι. [This is a display of inquiry of Herodotus of Halicarnassus, so that neither the things brought about by people may become faded in time, nor great and wondrous achievements, those displayed by Greeks and those by non-Greeks, may be without fame, both in all other respects and especially because of what offense they came to war with one another.] (proem) According to the proem, Herodotus' “inquiry” (ἱστορίη) has as its subject essentially all “achievements” (ἔργα) that have been “brought about” (τὰ γενόμενα) by human beings, whether Greeks or non-Greeks.53 Herodotus' inquiry, moreover, has a dual purpose: it records those achievements, Page 180 → thereby preventing them from being lost (ἐξίτηλα; literally, “faded”) in time, and it also commemorates the achievements by ensuring that they receive their proper “fame” or “glory” (κλέος, implied in the word ἀκλεᾶ).54 As David Asheri (2007c, 9) points out, the last words of the proem (τά τε ἄλλα καὶ δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι) serve as “a sort of appendix, ” which introduces the passage (1.1–5.2) that immediately follows the proem. This latter passage, often called the prologue, explores who is most to “blame” (cf. αἰτίην from the proem) for the enmity between the East and the West.55 Indeed, words with the root αἰτ- appear repeatedly in the prologue.56 If the proem serves to communicate, at least in part, the subject and purpose of the Histories, the prologue (1.1–5.2) acts as a further introduction to several of Herodotus' authorial concerns. One of Herodotus' concerns that figures prominently in the prologue is his interest in evaluating the sources for his work. Robert Fowler (1996, 86) argues that Herodotus separated himself from historiographical predecessors like Hecataeus of Miletus by “discover[ing] the problem of sources.” Herodotus was not the first Greek historiographer to recognize that some sources were more reliable than others; Hecataeus himself in the first sentence of his Genealogies (FGrH 1 F1) seems to acknowledge this fact about sources when he labels “the stories of the Greeks” (οἱ…Ἑλλήνων λόγοι) as “many and laughable” (πολλοί τε καὶ γελοῖοι). The real breakthrough that Herodotus made concerning his sources was that he tried to develop a systematic way to evaluate those sources. A characteristic feature of Herodotus' system of evaluating sources is involving the reader in the process; Herodotus discusses his sources with his readers. For example, he sometimes relates multiple versions of a given story and only then tells readers why he feels one version is more reliable than the others. At other times, Herodotus is noncommittal about which version of a story he prefers, but leaves it to the reader to decide between the different versions.57 The reader thus becomes a participant in the process of historiography. Herodotus uses the prologue (1.1–5.2) as a tutorial for readers on—at least some of—his methods for dealing with sources. The prologue is, therefore, absolutely essential for preparing readers of the Histories to look at Page 181 → sources in the Herodotean way. For example, in the prologue, Herodotus does, on one occasion, give two different versions of a story—namely, on the abduction of Io. In his remarks immediately after the prologue (1.5.3), however, Herodotus both refuses to decide directly between the two versions of Io's abduction and seeks to distance himself from all of these stories as a whole that he has just told. In the prologue, Herodotus relates various stories told by Persian λόγιοι and by (apparently) their Phoenician counterparts.58 These stories focus on the abductions of certain women in the mythical past: Io, Europa, Medea, and Helen. At the same time, the stories try to show who is to blame for initiating an East-West enmity that has ultimately led to the Persian War. As we have seen, Herodotus ends the proem by alluding to the Persian War: the aim of the Histories is in part to investigate “because of what offense they [i.e., Greeks and non-Greeks] came to

war with one another” (δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίην ἐπολέμησαν ἀλλήλοισι). Immediately after the proem, Herodotus turns to what Persian logioi have to say. According to these logioi, Phoenicians were “responsible” (αἰτίους; cf. the proem's αἰτίην) for beginning the quarrel between East and West by abducting Io, daughter of the king of Argos (1.1). Next, the Persians relate that Greeks sailed to Phoenician Tyre and themselves abducted a king's daughter, Europa (1.2.1). But then, the Persian logioi continue, the Greeks committed yet another act of wrongdoing: Greeks went to Colchis and abducted the king's daughter, Medea (1.2.2–3). Two generations later, Alexander, son of Priam, abducted Helen from Sparta (1.3). All demands from both sides for the return of the women abducted and for the payment of “reparations” (δίκας) for the individual women's abductions went unheeded. Once again, the Persians argue, the Greeks were “responsible” (αἰτίους) for raising the stakes of the quarrel (1.4.1). Instead of abducting another woman in retaliation for Helen's abduction, Greeks led an army into Asia and began the Trojan War. It is mainly from the Trojan War, say the Persians, that they trace their hostility toward the Greeks (1.4.4; 1.5.1). Herodotus concludes the prologue by noting that the Phoenicians disagree with the Persians on the subject of Io: the Phoenicians claim that they themselves did not abduct Io, but that she sailed away with Phoenicians of her own accord (1.5.2). Out of the interpretations that scholars have taken of the prologue, two main readings have emerged.59 Both readings focus on a distinctive feature Page 182 → of all the stories that the Persians and Phoenicians tell in 1.1–5.2, the lack of any divine or fantastic element. By contrast, in the traditional Greek versions of the myths of Io, Europa, Medea, and Helen, the gods play a large role in motivating and affecting the action of the characters.60 The world of the stories in the prologue, however, is mundane and ordinary; the characters act entirely on their own and with entirely human motivations. One group of scholars argues that Herodotus endorses, if not the content of the myths told in the prologue, at least their rationalized form.61 Herodotus chooses to report these myths after they have been cleansed of their mythic elements in an attempt to arrive at whatever truth lay behind the original tales. Another group of scholars sees Herodotus' presentation of the stories in the prologue as a parody of the rationalization of myths practiced by Hecataeus and other Greek investigators.62 With his humorous retelling of the myths, say these scholars, Herodotus demonstrates to his readers what he is not going to do in the Histories: rationalize obviously mythic tales in an attempt to arrive at whatever truth originally lay behind them. One of the most suggestive readings of the prologue belongs to Carolyn Dewald. Dewald (1999, 225–26; 2002, 270; 2006, 147) emphasizes the self-interested nature of the stories recounted by the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue: Persian stories justify Persian actions, while Phoenician stories justify Phoenician actions. The prologue serves as a warning to Herodotus' readers that they should approach with care the stories he reports in the Histories. Readers should try to ascertain the motives behind a source's telling of a story before accepting the story as trustworthy. Along with Dewald's thoughts on the stories told by the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue, I would argue that what is most striking is the very predominance of Greek myth in these stories. The stories in the prologue Page 183 → are the first ones Herodotus reports in the Histories. He could have started anywhere, reported any of a number of different types of stories, but chose stories drawn from myth. Moreover, the versions of the myths of Io, Europa, Medea, and Helen that appear in the prologue would have probably been novel to Herodotus' readers. With their intimate knowledge of the myths that suffused their culture, Greek readers would have readily understood that the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue had reshaped Greek mythic stories for their own selfinterested, nationalistic purposes.63 Lest they should miss this point, Herodotus selectively guides his readers through the stories in the prologue in order to bring out the stories' idiosyncracies.64 The most detailed of the four stories is the first one—that of Io. It is in this story that Herodotus offers his readers the most guidance, twice interjecting his own voice as narrator into the Persians' retelling of Io's myth. He notes that “just as Greeks also say” (κατὰ τὠυτὸ τὸ καὶ Ἕλληνες λέγουσι, 1.1.3), the Persians identify Io, daughter of Inachus, as the girl abducted from Argos. This brief note firmly roots Herodotus' readers in the world of myth, with its complicated and varied genealogies. Indeed, Herodotus may even mean that the Persians, in positing the name Inachus for Io's father, accepted the word of certain Greeks or of certain traditions over others. Apollodorus (2.1.3), for instance, argues that Io's father was Iasos; still other ancient authors opt for the name Peiren.65

Herodotus also indicates in the prologue where the Persians diverge from Greek tradition entirely. The Persians say that Io was carried to Egypt by the Phoenicians, “not as the Greeks” (οὐκ ὡς Ἕλληνες) say (1.2.1). According to Greek versions, Io was transformed by either Zeus or Hera into a cow and in this form wandered to Egypt, all the while chased by a gadfly that Hera had sent to torment her.66 The Persian version in the prologue Page 184 → obviously bears little resemblance to this tale. Nor, of course, does the Phoenician version that Herodotus mentions at the end of the prologue (1.5.2), in which an inconveniently pregnant Io willingly escapes to Egypt with the Phoenicians. While Herodotus inserts two more parenthetical notes into the next story in the prologue—that of Europa—he inserts none into the last two stories—those of Medea and of Helen. The Persians claim that “certain Greeks” (Ἑλλήνων τινάς, 1.2.1) abducted Europa from Tyre. Herodotus points out that the Persians are not any more specific than this “since they are unable to recount the name” (οὐ γὰρ ἔχουσι τοὔνομα ἀπηγήσασθαι) of the Greeks responsible.67 It would not surprise Herodotus' readers, however, that the Persians could not produce the guilty Greeks' names. According to the usual Greek version of the myth of Europa, Zeus himself, in the form of a bull, abducted Europa and carried her on his back over the sea to Crete. The detail of Zeus' final destination with Europa explains Herodotus' next comment. If, as the Persians claim, Greeks were involved in Europa's abduction, Herodotus implies in a suppressed protasis, “these [Greeks] would be Cretans” (εἴησαν δ’ ἂν οὗτοι Κρῆτες). Just as in the case of Io, Herodotus asks his readers to draw upon their acquaintance with myth to analyze the Persian account of Europa's story. Once he has established, with Io and Europa, that his readers should approach with a critical eye the versions of myths recounted by the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue, Herodotus provides less guidance in the case of the last two myths. The last two stories are also less detailed: in the story of Medea, for example, neither Jason nor the Argonauts—nor even the Argonauts' ship, the Argo—are referred to by name, and in the story of Paris and Helen there is no mention either of Menelaus or of the city of Troy. Moreover, at the same time that Herodotus' parenthetical remarks disappear, the particular slant that the Persians are putting on the myths in the prologue becomes more evident. As part of their strategy to depict the four mythical abductions of women as mercenary and trivial exercises, the Persians talk much about “reparations” (δίκαι) sought for the abducted Medea and Helen. The Persians finally make explicit both their disdain for those who abduct women and their utter disbelief that anyone (i.e., the Greeks) would be so foolish as to try to get revenge for women so abducted (1.4.2–3). In the Persians' hands, myth is a useful tool with which to criticize Page 185 → past Greek aggression and to vindicate their own role in past conflicts. According to the Persian presentation of Greek myth, the past actions of the Greeks make them, and not Asians, responsible for the present enmity between East and West. The main purpose of the prologue (1.1–5.2), then, is to alert Herodotus' readers that they should read critically the stories he reports in the Histories as a whole in order to detect the potential biases of the sources for his work. As we have seen, the set of biased stories Herodotus chooses for the prologue are all based on myths. There is scholarly debate about whether Herodotus distinguishes between a spatium mythicum and a spatium historicum, as well as whether he appreciates the “floating gap”—the nebulous middle period that often exists in oral societies between knowledge of the distant past, on the one hand, and knowledge of the recent past and present, on the other.68 Except for a few tantalizing hints, however, Herodotus does not seem to divide history up into different periods.69 Instead, he approaches past events in terms of their verifiability. His guiding principle appears to be, reasonably enough, that distant events are less likely to be verifiable than more recent ones.70 Herodotus' principle regarding the verifiability of past events is one of the reasons that he asserts in 1.5.3 that “concerning [the stories told by Persians and Phoenicians], I am not going to say that the things happened in this way or in some other way” (ἐγὼ…περὶ…τούτων οὐκ ἔρχομαι ἐρέων ὡς οὕτως ἢ ἄλλως κως ταῦτα ἐγένετο). According to his scheme of chronological verification, historical analysis of events from the remote past, such as the stories related in the prologue, may simply be rendered impossible by the passage of time. He can, then, as in 1.5.3, decline to speculate on such events. Page 186 → Another reason Herodotus refuses to offer his own judgment on the stories in the prologue, however, is that he

does not have to: his readers would have known the general outlines, at least, of the stories of Io, Europa, Medea, and Helen so well that he did not need to comment on them. Greeks would have been exposed to the stories from myth in a number of ways—including oral storytelling, choral and dramatic performances, and literary and artistic works. Before Greek readers ever encountered the prologue to the Histories, they would already in a certain sense be expert in myth, which from the Greek point of view was a rich source of information about the past.71 Thus, Greek readers, drawing upon their preexisting expertise with myth, would be able to recognize that the stories told by the foreign logioi in the prologue had been purposefully reworked to portray Persians or Phoenicians in a better light, and Greeks in a worse one. In addition to marking the end of the prologue itself, the passage that follows the prologue (1.5.3–4) serves as a bridge to a topic of prime importance to Herodotus in book 1: the career of Croesus. While he declines to comment on the stories related in the prologue, Herodotus says that he will point out (σημήνας) “the one whom I myself know first began unjust actions against the Greeks” (τὸν δὲ οἶδα αὐτὸς πρῶτον ὑπάρξαντα ἀδίκων ἔργων ἐς τοὺς Ἕλληνας) (1.5.3). Beginning with 1.6, Herodotus points the finger squarely at Croesus as the initiator of the injustices in question.72 The transition that Herodotus makes in 1.5.3 from the stories in the prologue to the story of Croesus can be read as a transition from ancient to more recent times. Croesus, king of Lydia c. 560–46 BCE, occupies a time period much closer to Herodotus' own than any of the abducted women in the prologue do. Herodotus therefore feels confident enough to state that he “knows” (οἶδα) something about Croesus; he trusts the evidence concerning a relatively recent figure such as Croesus as being more verifiable than whatever evidence has survived concerning an ancient figure like Io. If the purpose of the prologue is to train readers to analyze the stories Herodotus reports, the purpose of the transitional statement in 1.5.3 is to inform readers that in his work Herodotus will privilege, as a rule, the recent and more trustworthy over the ancient and less reliable. Page 187 →

Herodotus (1.5.3–4) and the Athenian Speakers (9.27.4–5) The Athenian speakers in 9.27 most take on the appearance of Herodotus immediately before they speak of Marathon. After they have recounted four ancient Athenian achievements, the Athenian speakers make the following statement. ἀλλ’ οὐ γάρ τι προέχει τούτων ἐπιμεμνῆσθαι· καὶ γὰρ ἂν χρηστοὶ τότε ἐόντες ὡυτοὶ νῦν ἂν εἶεν φλαυρότεροι καὶ τότε ἐόντες φλαῦροι νῦν ἂν εἶεν ἀμείνονες. παλαιῶν μέν νυν ἔργων ἅλις ἔστω. [But enough—for there is no profit at all in mentioning these things. For the ones who might have been brave in the past, the same ones might now be more cowardly, and the ones who might have been cowardly in the past might now be braver. Now let that be enough of ancient achievements.] (9.27.4–5) This statement marks the transition, then, between the Athenian accounts of their “ancient achievements” (παλαιὰ ἔργα) and the account of their “recent achievement” (καινὸν ἔργον): the victory at Marathon. On the one hand, the Athenian speakers' statement in 9.27.4–5 serves an analogous function to similar statements found both in epitaphioi and in other speeches that praise Athens.73 Speakers of such works often avowedly privilege more recent achievements over ancient ones; they mark the shift of their narrative of Athenian glories away from the distant past by criticizing remote events in some way. Pericles, in his Funeral Oration in Thucydides 2.34–47.1, immediately before launching into a description of the nature of contemporary Athens, says that he will “omit” (ἐάσω, 2.36.4) mention of the familiar, past military achievements of the Athenians.74 In his epitaphios (which dates to 322 BCE), Hyperides forswears recounting in detail the past deeds of Athens (4–6), citing a lack of time; he will therefore concentrate on the accomplishments of Leosthenes and his fellow soldiers in the Lamian War (323–22 BCE). While alluding to some of the famous exploits from Athens' mythical past, Socrates in Plato's Menexenus sees fit to “omit” (ἐᾶν, 239c) such exploits, claiming that they have already been

adequately lauded by poets, and instead moves on to the Athenians' role in the Persian War. According to Thucydides 1.73–78, Athenian ambassadors in a speech they Page 188 → give at Sparta also pass over mythical events in favor of the Persian War.75 In a possible echo of Herodotus 9.27.4–5, Thucydides' Athenians ask, “What need is there to speak of very ancient matters,” (καὶ τὰ μὲν πάνυ παλαιὰ τί δεῖ λέγειν), which are based on stories (λόγων) rather than eye-witness experience (ὄψις) (1.73.2)?76 On the other hand, the Athenian speakers' words in 9.27.4–5 themselves echo Herodotus' own from the prologue (1.5.3–4).77 After he recounts what Persians and Phoenicians have to say about the origins of the enmity between East and West (1.1–5.2), Herodotus writes the following words. ταῦτα μέν νυν Πέρσαι τε καὶ Φοίνικες λέγουσι. ἐγὼ δὲ περὶ μὲν τούτων οὐκ ἔρχομαι ἐρέων ὡς οὕτως ἢ ἄλλως κως ταῦτα ἐγένετο, τὸν δὲ οἶδα αὐτὸς πρῶτον ὑπάρξαντα ἀδίκων ἔργων ἐς τοὺς Ἕλληνας, τοῦτον σημήνας προβήσομαι ἐς τὸ πρόσω τοῦ λόγου, ὁμοίως σμικρὰ καὶ μεγάλα ἄστεα ἀνθρώπων ἐπεξιών. τὰ γὰρ τὸ πάλαι μεγάλα ἦν, τὰ πολλὰ αὐτῶν σμικρὰ γέγονε, τὰ δὲ ἐπ’ ἐμεῦ ἦν μεγάλα, πρότερον ἦν σμικρά. τὴν ἀνθρωπηίην ὦν ἐπιστάμενος εὐδαιμονίην οὐδαμὰ ἐν τὠυτῷ μένουσαν ἐπιμνήσομαι ἀμφοτέρων ὁμοίως. [Now Persians and Phoenicians say these things. Concerning them, I am not going to say that the things happened in this way or in some other way. But after I have indicated the one who I myself know first began unjust actions against the Greeks, I will proceed to the further part of my account, while going through small and great cities of men alike. For those that were great long ago, most of them have become small, and those that were great in my time, formerly were small. Therefore, since I know that human good fortune never remains in the same place, I will mention both of them alike.] (1.5.3–4) The person Herodotus “knows” (οἶδα, 1.5.3) to have first committed injustices against Greeks is Croesus, to whom his narrative turns immediately after this passage.78 Page 189 → There are several verbal and thematic correspondences between 1.5.3–4 and the Athenian speakers' words in 9.27.4–5. A pair of antonymous adjectives figures prominently in both passages: σμικρὰ…μεγάλα // σμικρὰ…μεγάλα // μεγάλα…σμικρὰ, 1.5.3–4; χρηστοὶ…φλαυρότεροι // φλαῦροι…ἀμείνονες, 9.27.4. Both passages display a similar view of history, with people/things that were once A becoming B, and people/things that were once B becoming A. The verb ἐπιμιμνῄσκεσθαι (“mention”) appears in both passages: ἐπιμνήσομαι, 1.5.4; ἐπιμεμνῆσθαι, 9.27.4. This word, moreover, refers in both passages to the recounting of past events: the Athenians say they will not mention any further Athens' ancient exploits (9.27.4), while Herodotus says that he will mention the historical development of great and small cities alike (1.5.4). Both passages occur at transitional points in Herodotus' and the Athenian speakers' respective narratives of the past, marking the shift from ancient events to more recent ones. With the abductions of Io, Europa, Medea, and Helen, Herodotus treats ancient achievements/events in the prologue. Similarly, the Athenian speakers in their speech first treat (9.27.2–4) ancient achievements/events (παλαιὰ ἔργα): their aid to the Heracleidae, their burial of the Seven against Thebes, their repulse of the Amazons, their fighting at Troy. Moreover, it is significant that in both passages (1.5.3–4 and 9.27.2–4), there are four achievements listed, and that the last one in both lists has to do with the Trojan War. In 1.5.3, Herodotus states his aim of moving from the ancient events in the prologue to the more recent reign of Croesus. The Athenian speakers, too, express their intention (9.27.4–5) of shifting from ancient achievements to a more recent (καινόν) one: their victory at Marathon.

Persian logioi/the Phoenicians(1.1–5.2) and the Athenian Speakers (9.27.2–4) However much Herodotus may associate himself as inquirer with the Athenian speakers in 9.27—especially through the verbal and thematic correspondences between 1.5.3–4 and 9.27.2–4—Herodotus finally distances himself from the Athenian speakers in 9.27 by associating these speakers instead with the Persian logioi and the

Phoenicians from the prologue (1.1–5.2). Readers have encountered in the prologue (1.1–5.2) the self-interested versions of myths told by Persians and Phoenicians. In 9.27.2–4, readers encounter a second set of self-interested versions of myths, this time told by the Athenian speakers at Plataea. Readers have seen in the prologue (1.1–5.2) Page 190 → that the Persians and Phoenicians altered Greek myths for their own nationalistic purposes. Similarly, in 9.27.2–4, readers see that the Athenian speakers have altered myths for the purpose of increasing the prestige of their city and, more specifically, of furthering the Athenians' claim for command at Plataea. Only Athenians, for example, would venture the claim, as the Athenian speakers imply in 9.27.4, that the contingent from Athens had played a major role in the Trojan War. The evidence from Homer does not support the Athenians' claim.79 Drawing upon their intimate knowledge of Homeric epic, no less than their knowledge of myth, Herodotus' Greek readers would have likely known that the Athenians had played little part at Troy and would thus have been suspect of the Athenian speakers' claims about the Trojan War in 9.27.4. Perhaps this would have led Herodotus' readers to look with suspicion at other statements made by the Athenian speakers in 9.27 about their city-state's past—especially the claim that follows immediately after their statement about Troy (9.27.4)—namely, that the Athenians had fought “alone” at Marathon (9.27.5). Indeed, it may be that Herodotus inserts the Athenians' claim about Troy into their speech in 9.27—a claim rare in extant epitaphioi—precisely to draw readers' attention to the biased, Athenocentric nature of such a claim. Herodotus then could expect his readers to criticize the Athenian speakers' version of the Athenians' role in the Trojan War in 9.27.4. Herodotus expects his readers to rely on their deep familiarity with myth to question the four self-interested versions of myths presented in the prologue (1.1–5.2) and, equally, the four self-interested versions of myths related by the Athenian speakers in 9.27.2–4. In an analogous way, Herodotus expects his readers to use the knowledge they have gained from reading the Histories—in particular, from reading 6.102–17 about the Battle of Marathon—and to reject the misleading picture of Marathon that the Athenians present in 9.27.5. In moving from the ancient affairs in the prologue to more recent history, Herodotus says that he “knows” (οἶδα, 1.5.3) certain details about Croesus; he has gained this knowledge presumably as a result of his own research. When Herodotus' readers encounter the Athenians' Page 191 → shift in 9.27.4–5 from their ancient erga to their ergon at Marathon, readers at the outset “know” something about the Battle of Marathon thanks to Herodotus' narrative of the battle in 6.102–17. If Herodotus has prepared his readers well, they are unlikely to miss, or approve of, the Athenian speakers' omission of the Plataeans from the Battle of Marathon.

Conclusion In 9.27.5, then, Herodotus raises the epitaphic claim that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon for one main reason: to criticize it. Or more precisely, he includes the claim in the Histories for his readers to criticize. Herodotus' readers could contrast his narrative of Marathon from 6.102–17, which stresses the Plataeans' aid to the Athenians at the Battle of Marathon, with the Athenians' account in 9.27.5, which completely omits the Plataeans' role in the battle. Readers also had the biased Persian and Phoenician stories from 1.1–5.2 with which to compare the biased stories, including that of Marathon, the Athenians tell in 9.27.2–4. By doubly discounting the Athenian speakers' version of Marathon in 9.27.5, readers would confirm the veracity of Herodotus' own account of Marathon against the self-interested Athenian account and against the epitaphic tradition that inspired the Athenians' misleading claim to have fought “alone” at Marathon. 1. Cf. Rood 2010, 67, who writes that “the battle of Marathon is itself invoked as a solo Athenian victory by Athenian speakers (9.27.5–6) in a way which recalls the tradition of Athenian patriotic oratory, yet runs counter to Herodotus' own account, which has mentioned the Plataeans' presence.” 2. On the concept of ἔργον (“achievement”) in Herodotus, see chapter 5, 219–21. 3. On the force of ἐθελοντής here, see Flower and Marincola 2002, 150. 4. I follow Flower and Marincola 2002, 151 (cf. Rosén 1997, 400) in rejecting as unnecessary Koen's emendation ἡμέας. 5. On the logos/ergon antithesis in Herodotus, see Parry 1981, 49–50. 6. Herodotus uses these same three words (λόγων πολλὸς ὠθισμός) of the Greek admirals' debate on

strategy before the Battle of Salamis: ὠθισμὸς λόγων πολλός (8.78). On the phrase ὠθισμὸς λόγων, see Immerwahr 1966, 274; Munson 2001b, 220. 7. Flower and Marincola 2002, 153 translate προέθηκε as “has set as our task”; they point out that this verb is “commonly used of ‘setting up’ contests.” Cf. How and Wells 1928b, 297 (προέθηκε: “has laid on us the task of”); Liddell and Scott 1968, s.v. προτίθημι 5. “appoint as a task or duty.” 8. Flower and Marincola 2002, 154 call this “a brilliant turning of the tables on the Tegeans,” as the Athenians and Heracleidae defeat the Peloponnesians, who had been championed by the Tegean Echemus. Cf. Bowie 2012, 282–84. 9. See Flower and Marincola 2002, 156–7. On Herodotus' historiographic interest in “displaying achievements” (ἀποδεικνύναι ἔργα), as evidenced especially by ἀπόδεξις/ἀποδεχθέντα in the proem, see Nagy 1987, 175–8; 1990, index apodeiknumai, apodeixis; Bakker 2002, 20–8. 10. Flower and Marincola 2002, 151 translate ἀξιόνικος as “more worthy of being preferred”; they note that the word can also mean “worthy of victory.” Cf. Grethlein 2010, 175n.84. The adjective ἀξιόνικος occurs once more in the Histories: Herodotus says that out of all the vast host of Xerxes' army, no one was “more worthy of being preferred to have the command” (ἀξιονικότερος…ἔχειν…τὸ κράτος) than Xerxes himself (7.187.2). 11. See chapter 3 passim for further discussion of 5.49–54. 12. Cf. Blakesley 1854, 440: “The use of this word [i.e.,Ἀρκάδας in 9.28.1] should not be overlooked. It seems to be substituted intentionally for Τεγεήτα by the Lacedaemonians. The Tegeans probably would not feel flattered by being massed together with the inhabitants of insignificant hamlets under this name.” 13. Besides the six examples in 6.108, the phrase διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι occurs in the following passages: 1.169.2 (Greek islanders to Cyrus); 2.30.2 (Egyptians to Ethiopian king); 2.113.2 (any οἰκέτης to Egyptian Heracles); 2.162.6 (Egyptians to Amasis); 3.19.3 bis (Phoenicians to Persians; Cyprians to Persians); 4.132.1 (Scythians to Darius, or so he believes); 4.159.4 (Libyans to Apries); 4.180.5 (Libyan Athena to Zeus); 5.13.2 (Paeonians to Darius); 7.130.3 (Thassalians to Xerxes); 7.132.2 (Greeks to Persians); 7.135.2 (Spartans to Xerxes: hypothetical); 7.139.2 (Athenians to Xerxes: hypothetical). 14. On the connotations of the phrase διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι, see Hammond 1992, 144; Crane 2001, 134–39; Raaflaub 2004, 76. On political slavery as a theme in the Histories, see chapter 2, 60n.18. 15. In the Histories, words containing the δουλ- root occur seventy-one times in reference to political “slavery,” but only eighteen times in reference to chattel slavery. Herodotus generally prefers other terms to refer to chattel slaves, including οἰκέτης (“domestic servant”; twenty-four examples) and ἀνδράποδα (“prisoners of war/slaves”; fourteen examples). 16. Contra Badian 1993, 116–23, who argues that the relationship the Plataeans had with the Athenians at the time of Marathon was precisely one of political slavery. Badian rests his argument mainly on Pausanias 1.32.3 (see further chapter 1, 38): Pausanius notes that there were two burial mounds on the plain of Marathon: one for Athenians, and “another for Plataeans in Boeotia and for slaves” (ἕτερος Πλαταιεῦσι Βοιωτῶν καὶ δούλοις). The archaeological remains of the tombs at Marathon—the mound of the Athenians, on the one hand, and the (so-called) mound of the Plataeans and the slaves, which was found in the Vrana Valley by S. Marinatos, on the other—unfortunately, do not add much to our investigation of Pausanias 1.32.3. For a brief archaeological account of these two burial mounds, see Mersch 1995. For a longer account of the Athenian mound only, see Whitley 1994. Hammond 1992, 147–50 accepts Marinatos' identification of the second mound (contra Raaflaub 2004, 77) and makes the mound an important part of his argument. According to Badian, the Plataeans were buried in the same tomb as the Athenian slaves because the Plataeans were for all intents and purposes Athenian “slaves.” Badian dismisses (118) the reasonable explanation proposed by scholars that the slaves reportedly buried in the mound with the Plataeans had been freed by the Athenians before the battle. (Pausanias himself suggests as much in 7.15.7.) Indeed, Raaflaub 2004, 77 argues that in place of Pausanias' “slaves” in 1.32.3 we should understand “freedmen,” and he suggests that the Plataeans and Athenian freedmen were buried together as two groups of free noncitizens of Athens. By contrast, Hammond 150, cf. 147 suggests that the slaves freed before Marathon were made citizens not of Athens, but of Plataea, and were accordingly buried with their fellow citizens after the battle. 17. Thucydidean speakers are identified in parentheses: 2.73.3: ξύμμαχοι, ξυμμαχίαν (Athenians); 3.55.1: ξυμμαχίας (Plataeans); 3.55.3: ξυμμάχους (Plataeans); 3.63.2: ξύμμαχοι (Thebans); 3.68.5: (Thucydidean

narrator); cf. 2.2.1: ξύμμαχοι (Thucydidean narrator). 18. Hornblower 1991, 464–66 argues in support of 519 and against alternate dates that have been proposed, such as 509 (e.g., Amit 1973, 71–2; Raaflaub 2004, 304 n. 75) and 506 (Shrimpton 1984). 19. Shrimpton 1984, 302. 20. Regarding 2.71.2, Hammond 1992, 145 suggests that because of the infinitives that depend on ἀπεδίδου (contra Hennig 1992, 20 n.11), “conceded” is a better translation for the verb here than “restored,” as many translators (e.g., Raaflaub 2004, 77) render it. Cf. Bétant 1843, s.v. ἀποδιδόναι (“dare, concedere”). 21. See Hammond 1992, 145; Raaflaub 2004, 77. 22. See Amit 1973, 73–4; Manville 1990, 201 n. 136 and 137, cf. 202 n. 141; Hammond 1992, 145; Raaflaub 2004, 76. 23. See Carey 1992; Kapparis 1999. 24. ξυμμάχους καὶ πολιτείας, 3.55.3; Ἀθηναίων ξύμμαχοι καὶ πολῖται, 3.63.2. On these two passages, see Hornblower 1991, 458. 25. See [Demosthenes] 59.104–106. Most scholars regard as spurious the text of the citizenship decree for the Plataeans that is preserved at 59.104: see Canevaro 2010. 26. Amit 1973, 75–78; MacDowell 1985, 319; Carey 1992, 139. There is much scholarly disagreement, however, on the issue of when and to what extent the Plataeans were granted Athenian citizenship. For further discussion, see Gawantka 1975, 174–78; Walters 1981, 208–11; Shrimpton 1984, 301–2; Hornblower 1991, 449–50; Hammond 1992, 146–47; Kapparis 1995. 27. See Walters 1981, 208–11. Cf. Kapparis 1995, 376–77. 28. Contra Steinbock 2013, 127–142, who argues that as early as the second half of the fifth century BCE the average Athenian probably no longer knew that the Plataeans had even aided the Athenians at Marathon, which, following the historical narrative found in funeral orations, had become an exclusive Athenian victory; instead, Athenians both associated Plataean aid to Athens with Xerxes' invasion in 480-79 (rather than with Marathon in 490) and contrasted the patriotic Boeotian Plataeans with their medizing Boeotian neighbors, the Thebans. 29. For general discussion of the Stoa Poikile, see Camp 1986, 66–72. For a more detailed attempt to reconstruct the appearance of the painting of Marathon, in particular, see Harrison 1972 (esp. 357, on Athenians and Plataeans in the painting). Among omissions in Herodotus' narrative of Marathon, Raaflaub 2010, 227n.19 notes the Marathon painting in the Stoa Poikile. 30. For general discussion of epitaphioi, see Kennedy 1963, 154–66; Walters 1980; Ziolkowski 1981; Pritchett 1985, 106–24; Loraux 1986; Thomas 1989, 196–237; Prinz 1997; Todd 2007, 149–53; Clarke 2008, 299–300, 309–12; Grethlein 2010, 105–25; Tzanetou 2012, 22–26; Steinbock 2013, 49–58. 31. Jacoby 1944, 294 (contra Gomme 1956, 94–98) argues for 464 BCE, after the battle at Drabeskos, as the beginning of the institution of the epitaphios. For further discussion, see Pritchett 1985, 112–24; Hornblower 1991, 292–93. 32. On the publication date for the Histories, see chapter 3, 119n.33. 33. On Herodotus' connection with and general view of Athens, see Fornara 1971b, 37–58; Forrest 1984; Ostwald 1991; Munson 2001b, index s.v. Athenians, Athens; Moles 2002; Fowler 2003. 34. See Meyer 1899, 219–22; Bury 1909, 63; Jacoby 1913, 464; How and Wells 1928b, 297; Solmsen 1944, 248–50; Jacoby 1944, 45n.33; Moles 2002, 37 and n.31; Steinbock 2013, 57, 130, 196–98. 35. The epitaphios best known to modern readers, Pericles' Funeral Oration in Thucydides 2.34–47.1, is unusual in the short shrift it gives to events from Athens' past (cf. Pericles' highly allusive remarks in 2.36) and in its almost exclusive concentration on contemporary Athens; see Loraux 1986, 123; Rusten 1989, 136; Hornblower 1991, 295. 36. On the Heracleidae in epitaphioi, see Ziolkowski 1981, 103n.6, 182; Loraux 1986, 57, 58, 67, 68, 69; Christ 2012, 128–29; Steinbock 2013, 155–210; cf. Tzanetou 2012, 73–104. On the Seven against Thebes, see Loraux 1986, 54, 69, 74, 84, 374 n. 312. On the Amazons, see Ziolkowski 184; Tyrrell 1984, 13–19, 114–16; Loraux, index s.v. Amazons. 37. According to Loraux, 69–72, speakers of epitaphioi avoid mentioning the Trojan War both because of the small role the Athenians traditionally played in the conflict and because the war was Panhellenic, and not exclusively Athenian in nature. 38. Thomas 1989, 222, 226.

39. When Herodotus asserts in 7.139.5 that “anyone who says that Athenians were saviors of Greece would not miss the truth (Ἀθηναίους ἄν τις λέγων σωτῆρας γενέσθαι τῆς Ἑλλάδος οὐκ ἂν ἁμαρτάνοι τἀληθέος), he may actually be arguing in support of the general epitaphic claim that throughout their history Athenians had repeatedly saved their fellow Greeks; in 7.139, however, Herodotus narrows the focus of this claim to Athens' contributions to the Greek cause in the Persian War. 40. Thomas 1989, 226. Raaflaub 2004, 77 notes that if Plataea had really formed part of the Athenian state during the Persian War, later Athenians would surely have claimed the victory in the Battle of Plataea for themselves, much as they did with Marathon and with Salamis, since all three battles would then have been fought in Athenian territory. 41. On “first” and “only” in epitaphioi, see Walters 1980, 3–5; Ziolkowski 1981, 121–23. 42. See Loraux 1986, index s.v. logos/ergon. 43. Grethlein 2009 misses the tendentious nature of Artabanus' claim in 7.10β1 that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon: Grethlein not only argues (201) that Artabanus' “references [to Marathon] also correspond closely to Herodotus' account,” but also refers to “Artabanus' Herodotus-like take on the past” (214). 44. On 7.8–11 (the so-called Persian Council Scene), see de Jong 2001, 104–12; Grethlein 2009, 197–205; Schellenberg 2009, 136–39. On Artabanus as an adviser to Xerxes in the Histories, see Pelling 1991. 45. Ironically, Artabanus' advice in 7.10 (initially, at least) fails to persuade Xerxes; instead, he strongly rebukes Artabanus for cowardice (7.11). Cf. Socrates' tongue-in-cheek comments about the transformative power of epitaphic rhetoric (Menexenus 234c-235c). On the effectiveness of the Menexenus' rhetoric, Carter 1991, 226 writes: “One cannot read this funeral oration without feeling overwhelmed by the fervor of Athenian nationalism, particularly in the whitewashing of its military history.” See Kennedy 1963, 158–64 for discussion of various interpretations of the Menexenus that have been proposed. On Plato's Menexenus as a parody of epitaphioi, especially of Pericles' Funeral Oration (Thucydides 2.34–47.1), see Allen 1984, 319–27. See further Prinz 1997, 325–28; Monoson 2000, 181–205; Todd 2007, 153–57. 46. Macan 1908b, 641; How and Wells 1928b, 296; Hignett 1963, 311–13; Burn 1984, 522–23. Green 1996, 250 calls the debate in 9.26–28.1 “ridiculous” and “grotesquely inopportune,” but cautions that it may still have happened. 47. As Hignett 1963, 313; Vandiver 1991, 66n.2. 48. On Plutarch's management of and adaptation of his sources, see Pelling 1995. 49. Solmsen 1944, 249–50 argues that Herodotus, for his part, has the Athenians recall their past achievements shortly before the Battle of Plataea so that he can contrast the great Athenian victory at Marathon with the (largely) Spartan victory to come at Plataea. 50. On Thucydides' criticism of the epitaphic tradition, see epilogue, 225–28. 51. On Herodotus' narrative of the Battle of Thermopylae, see chapter 5, 221–24. 52. On Herodotus' first sentence or proem, see Erbse 1956; Krischer 1965; Nagy 1987; 1990, 215–28; Lateiner 1989, 14–15, 232–33n.7–13; Munson 2001b, 30–32; Bakker 2002; Asheri 2007a, 72–73; 2007c, 7–9. 53. Similarly, Węcowski 2004, 156 remarks on the words τὰ γενόμενα ἐξ ἀνθρώπων in the proem: “[Herodotus’] proclaimed first aim is actually to record all the various kinds of human activity.” 54. On Herodotus' conferring of kleos, see Marincola 2006, 18. 55. Contra Asheri 2007a, 72 (cf. Węcowski 2004, 147n.28), who argues that although strictly speaking the term “proem” refers only to the first sentence of the Histories, the term could be extended to cover 1.1–5 as well. 56. On the connection between αἰτίην in the proem and words with the root αἰτι- in the prologue, see Krischer 1965, 160–62; Long 1987, 41–42. 57. On the various ways in which Herodotus deals with his sources, see Asheri 2007c, 20–23. 58. On logioi, see introduction, 14–15. 59. For discussion of scholarly interpretations of the prologue, see Lateiner 1989, 240n.74; Vandiver 1991, 114–24; Asheri 2007a, 73–74; Chiasson 2012, esp. 127–29. 60. As Asheri 2007a, 74. 61. See Benardete 1969, 213; Fornara 1971b, 20n.29; Gould 1989, 64. 62. See Drews 1973, 89; Flory 1987, 24–29; Lateiner 1989, 38, 240n.74; Pelliccia 1992, 74–80; Arieti

1995, 10–11; Dewald 1999; 2006, 145–47; Thomas 2000, 268; Węcowski 2004, 149–54; Feeney 2007, 242n.21; cf. Dewald 2012, 65–66. I join Jacoby 1913, 474—Griffin 2006, 47 chastises him in this context as “the stern Felix Jacoby”—in failing to see the humor in Herodotus' prologue. Similarly, I am unconvinced (as Fornara 1971a, 25–28; 1981, 153–55; West 2002, 13; Rood 2010, 64–65) of the supposedly close correspondence between Aristophanes Acharnians 523–29 and Herodotus' prologue. For the argument that Aristophanes is here parodying Herodotus' prologue, specifically, with the theme of the mutual abductions of women eventually leading to war, see Wells 1923, 167–82; Cobet 1977, 9–12; Sansone 1985; Olson 2002, liii-liv; Dewald 2006, 146; Hornblower 2006, 307. Of course, even if Aristophanes were parodying Herodotus' prologue, it would not necessarily follow that Herodotus himself intended for the Histories' prologue to be a parody of Hecataeus or of any other author. 63. Fowler 1996, 84–86 contends that the stories in the prologue represent a combination of actual Persian sources and Herodotean theorizing based on those sources (i.e., what the Persians would have said about Io et al. if they had argued that the abductions of women had led to East-West enmity). On Persians' exploitation of Greek myth for their own purposes, see Vandiver 1991, 124; Munson 2009, 467 and n.46; contra West 2002, 13. Cf. Asheri 2007a, 74, who draws attention to the “politicized” nature of the stories told in 1.1–5. Both Fehling 1989, 50–57 and Asheri, however, see the Persian and Phoenician sources cited in the prologue as pure Herodotean invention. On Persian propaganda in general directed toward Greece during the Persian War, see Kelly 2003. Tuplin 2010 tries to arrive at Persian views toward the Battle of Marathon in particular. 64. Bakker 2006, 98–101 explores, from a syntactical point of view, Herodotus' interweaving of several different voices—Persian, Phoenician, Greek, and Herodotus' own as narrator—in the prologue. 65. On the name of Io's father, see Gantz 1993, 198–99. 66. For a discussion of the variant versions of Io's myth, see Gantz 1993, 199–202. 67. Contra Asheri 2007a, 76, who dismisses this statement, claiming that “this unnecessary parenthetical sentence is simply an effective device of narrative art, tending to increase the author's credibility.” Cf. Fehling 1989, 53–54. 68. For discussion, see Cobet 2002, 405–11; Griffin 2006, 47; Feeney 2007, 72–76; Clarke 2008, 98–99; Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012a, 24–25; contra Harrison 2000, 196–207. On the “floating gap” in particular, see Thomas 2001. Cf. Asheri 2007b, 9, who argues that Herodotus “brushes off [the stories told by Persians and Phoenicians in 1.1–5] as mythical” [emphasis added]. Regarding general Greek views, Grethlein 2010, 110 writes that “it seems safe to say that the Greeks distinguished between myth and history, but not categorically as we do—they rather regarded them as ancient and recent past.” 69. For example, in 3.122.2 Herodotus says that “Polycrates was the first of the generation that is called human” (τῆς…ἀνθρωπηίης λεγομένης γενεῆς Πολυκράτης πρῶτος), as opposed to Minos and possibly others, to aim at establishing a thalassocracy. On the meaning of λεγομένης in 3.122.2, see Harrison 2000, 199n.64; Saïd 2012, 88–89. On 3.122.2, see further Baragwanath and de Bakker 2012a, 23–24; Munson 2012, 196. 70. If he thinks the evidence warrants it, however, Herodotus can offer his opinion about “mythical” figures, as exemplified by his discussion of Helen's whereabouts during the Trojan War (2.112–20). On this passage, see West 2002, 31–39. 71. Cf. Griffiths 2006, 131, who says that the myths told by the Persians and Phoenicians in the prologue are “what even Herodotus would have called ancient history.” 72. For example, Herodotus says in 1.6.2: “This Croesus was the first of the barbarians of those whom we know to have subdued some Greeks to the payment of tribute and to have attached others to himself as friends” (οὗτος ὁ Κροῖσος βαρβάρων πρῶτος τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν τοὺς μὲν κατεστρέψατο Ἑλλήνων ἐς φόρου ἀπαγωγήν, τοὺς δὲ φίλους προσεποιήσατο). 73. As Flower and Marincola 2002, 156. 74. On Pericles' treatment of the past in this speech, see Rusten 1989, 141–42. 75. On the Athenians' preference in Thucydides 1.73–78 for recent history, see Loraux 1986, 90. For further discussion of this passage, see epilogue, 227. 76. The contrast between logoi and opsis in Thucydides 1.73.2 is a variation of the logos/ergon antithesis, so common in epitaphioi. On opsis, see chapter 1, 37, 43. 77. Flower and Marincola 2002, 156; Grethlein 2010, 176–79; Wesselmann 2011, 6n.11.

78. Although Herodotus does talk briefly about Croesus in 1.6, he only treats him in depth beginning with 1.26. From 1.7–25, Herodotus telescopes back into the remote past, recounting the reigns of the Lydian kings (including Candaules and Gyges) who preceded Croesus and even relating the story of Arion (1.23–24). 79. On the (possibly interpolated) lines praising the Athenian leader Menestheus in the Homeric Catalogue of Ships (Iliad 2.552–55), see Kirk 1985, 206–7. The Athenian speakers' claim in 9.27.4 about the prominent role that Athenians had played in the Trojan War is not the only time Athenians make such a claim in the Histories: during the embassy that the allied Greeks sent to Syracuse during the Persian War, the Athenians refuse to yield command of the allied fleet to the Syracusan tyrant Gelon, based in large part on the (unnamed) Athenian Menestheus' contributions at Troy (7.161.3); see Bowie 2012, 281–82; Saïd 2012, 94.

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CHAPTER 5 Xerxes' “laughable” Spectacle Following the Greek defeat in the Battle of Thermopylae, the victorious Persian king Xerxes attempts to misrepresent the exact outcome of the battle by repositioning the bodies of the dead on the battlefield (8.24–25). Xerxes expects his sailors whom he invites to Thermopylae to create an account of the battle in their minds—based partly on what they see at the site, and partly on what they hear from Xerxes' herald, who issues the invitation to the sailors. In the account that the sailors are meant to construct as a result of their sightseeing, the Persian victory came much more easily than it actually did; according to Xerxes' misleading version of the battle, far fewer Persians than Greeks were killed. Although Xerxes' implied account of the battle largely depends on his arrangement of the corpses, his sailors do not find this arrangement at all convincing. So badly does Xerxes' ruse fail that Herodotus even describes it as “laughable” (γελοῖον, 8.25.2). By attempting to promulgate his own account of a past event with his spectacle involving the corpses at Thermopylae (8.24–25), Xerxes becomes a rival inquirer for Herodotus. We saw that Herodotus characterized Xerxes in his conversations with Demaratus (7.101–105, 7.209, 7.234–37), to some extent, as an inquirer-like figure. But it was Demaratus' role as a rival inquirer to Herodotus that was the primary focus of those episodes. Although Xerxes himself emerges as a rival inquirer in 8.24–25, he is a less successful Page 193 → inquirer than all of the rival inquirers previously discussed. Solon is ultimately able to convince Croesus (when the latter is on the pyre in 1.86) that his (i.e., Solon's) views on human fortune, if not his historical accounts, are correct; Demaratus is ultimately proven correct by the outcome of events; Aristagoras (5.49–51) is able to deceive Cleomenes at first; and the Athenian speakers at Plataea (9.26–28.1) successfully convince the Lacedaemonian army. Xerxes is the lone rival inquirer whose account of past events is rejected both by his internal audience (his sailors) and—thanks, in part, to Herodotus' explicit ridicule of the spectacle in 8.25.2—by the external audience (Herodotus' readers). In 8.24–25, Xerxes' historical account proves neither truthful nor convincing. Xerxes' spectacle and the account of Thermopylae it propounds in 8.24–25 not only conflict with, but also are just as tendentious as Herodotus' own account of Thermopylae. According to Herodotus' narrative of the Battle of Thermopylae (7.175–77, 198–233), the Greek forces under the Spartan king Leonidas, although they face an overwhelming mass of Persian troops, nevertheless manage to inflict extremely heavy casualties on the foreigners. With its focus on the small number of Persian dead, however, Xerxes' account of Thermopylae directly contradicts the account Herodotus gives as narrator. Xerxes tries with his spectacle to stress how decisively the Persians had won the battle, while Herodotus himself is at pains to depict the battle at Thermopylae as a moral victory for the Greeks. In order to buttress the authority of his own account of Thermopylae, Herodotus must persuade readers, therefore, that Xerxes' version of Thermopylae has no merit. Accordingly, Herodotus engages in polemic against what amounts to a historiographical rival by heaping ridicule on the spectacle that Xerxes engineered at Thermopylae.

The Preparations for Xerxes' Spectacle (8.24) It is when his fleet is resting at the Euboean town of Histiaea (8.23) that Xerxes turns to constructing his deceptive spectacle involving the corpses on the Thermopylean battlefield (8.24.1). According to Herodotus: ἐνθαῦτα δὲ τούτων ἐόντων, Ξέρξης ἑτοιμασάμενος τὰ περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς ἔπεμπε ἐς τὸν ναυτικὸν στρατὸν κήρυκα. προετοιμάσατο δὲ τάδε· ὅσοι τοῦ στρατοῦ τοῦ ἑωυτοῦ ἦσαν νεκροὶ ἐν Θερμοπύλῃσι Page 194 → (ἦσαν δὲ καὶ δύο μυριάδες), ὑπολιπόμενος τούτων ὡς χιλίους, τοὺς λοιποὺς τάφρους ὀρυξάμενος ἔθαψε, φυλλάδα τε ἐπιβαλὼν καὶ γῆν ἐπαμησάμενος, ἵνα μὴ ὀφθείησαν ὑπὸ τοῦ ναυτικοῦ στρατοῦ. [While [the sailors] were there [i.e., Histiaea], Xerxes, after he had the corpses gotten ready, sent a

herald to the fleet. [Xerxes] had the following things prepared: as many of his own army as were corpses at Thermopylae (and there were as many as 20,000 of them), leaving out about 1,000 of these, he buried the rest [in] trenches that he had dug, throwing leaves on [the trenches] and heaping up earth, in order that [the trenches] might not be seen by the navy.] (8.24.1)

Before the sailors arrived at Thermopylae, then, Xerxes “had the corpses gotten ready” (ἑτοιμασάμενος τὰ περὶ τοὺς νεκρούς)—that is, he had the bodies of the dead purposefully arranged on the battlefield.1 In his attempt to disguise just how many Persians had perished in the recent battle at Thermopylae, Xerxes has all but 1,000 of the 20,000 Persian dead buried in mass trenches that are then covered over by earth and leaves.2 In 8.24.2, Xerxes invites the sailors to come view the completed spectacle. Xerxes' herald goes to Histiaea and issues the invitation approximately two days after the battle at Thermopylae has taken place.3 Regarding the herald's invitation, Herodotus writes the following. ὡς δὲ διέβη ἐς τὴν Ἱστιαίην ὁ κῆρυξ, σύλλογον ποιησάμενος παντὸς τοῦ στρατοπέδου ἔλεγε τάδε· Ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι, βασιλεὺς Ξέρξης τῷ βουλομένῳ ὑμέων παραδίδωσι ἐκλιπόντα τὴν τάξιν καὶ ἐλθόντα Page 195 → θεήσασθαι ὅκως μάχεται πρὸς τοὺς ἀνοήτους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, οἳ ἤλπισαν τὴν βασιλέος δύναμιν ὑπερβαλέεσθαι. [When the herald had crossed over to Histiaea, he assembled all the navy and said, “Men of the allied force, King Xerxes grants permission to any of you who wishes, after you have left your station and gone [to the battlefield], to behold how he fights against those foolish persons who expected to overcome the King's power.”] (8.24.2) In his invitation, the herald reveals the basic message that Xerxes himself wishes his sailors to take away from their viewing of the corpses on the battlefield. Based on the relatively few number of Persian corpses that are to be seen by the sailors, the message of Xerxes' spectacle is that “foolish persons” (τοὺς ἀνοήτους τῶν ἀνθρώπων) such as the Greeks who dare defy the Persian king will be crushed by the King and his (vastly superior) army.

The Audience for Xerxes' Spectacle It is not immediately clear from 8.24.2, however, exactly whom Herodotus has the herald invite to Thermopylae, and so who the intended audience for Xerxes' spectacle is. First, the herald calls “an assembly of the entire navy” (σύλλογον…παντὸς τοῦ στρατοπέδου [ναυτικοῦ]). A preliminary conclusion, then, appears to be that the herald has been charged by Xerxes with inviting all the sailors to look at the arrangement of the corpses. Second, when the herald actually addresses the members of the navy, however, he refers to them collectively as “men of the allied force” (ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι).4 Since it is to the ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι (rather than to the παντὸς τοῦ στρατοπέδου) that the herald issues Xerxes' invitation in 8.24.2, this expression needs to be examined more closely. Herodotus uses the word σύμμαχοι (“allies”) in reference to several different political and military alliances. One is the so-called Peloponnesian League—as modern scholars term the long-lasting alliance of Sparta and her (primarily Peloponnesian) allies. Another alliance, and the most prominent in the Histories, is usually called by scholars either the Hellenic or Greek League. This is the one Page 196 → Athens, Sparta, and other Greek states form in order to fight off the Persian invasion of Greece in 480–79 BCE. It is in reference to precisely these two alliances that the other two examples of the combination andres symmachoi occur in the Histories.5 In their plea for support in restoring the tyrant Hippias to Athens, the Spartans address envoys from their allies as ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι (5.91.2). During the skirmish at Erythrae that preceded the battle at Plataea, the Megarians, hard-pressed by the Persian cavalry, send a herald to the generals of the allied Greek states to seek reinforcements. The herald addresses the generals as ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι (9.21.2). These two examples are similar to the other examples in the Histories of ἄνδρες plus a substantive (e.g., ἄνδρες Πέρσαι, ἄνδρες Ἀθηναῖοι, ἄνδρες Ἴωνες). In nearly every case, a speaker uses andres plus substantive to introduce a formal request; the speaker apparently chooses such an expression with andres for its rhetorical effect and relies on the expression to help him win the favor of his addressees.6 Similarly, Xerxes'

herald in 8.24.2 attempts to ensure a favorable reception for the spectacle involving the corpses by calling the sailors andres symmachoi.7 The request in the herald's message, however, in keeping with the deceptive nature of Xerxes' spectacle as a whole, is veiled.8 He implicitly asks the sailors to let his words be their guide (i.e., “behold how [Xerxes] fights…”) when they view Xerxes' arrangement of the dead at Thermopylae. But does the expression andres symmachoi point to who the target audience is for Xerxes' spectacle in 8.24.2? Some scholars have argued that andres symmachoi in this passage refers only to the Greek sailors serving in Xerxes' fleet.9 These scholars, however, confuse Herodotus' terminology Page 197 → for the free Greek states allied against Persia with those Greeks who are under Persian suzerainty (e.g., Ionians and islanders), whether they have been conquered by the Persians or have medized of their own accord. Herodotus regularly calls the free Greek states “allies” (σύμμαχοι), but appears hesitant to refer to the subject Greeks as (merely) Persian allies. On a number of occasions, Herodotus does mention “allies” of Persia.10 Like other Greeks, the Ionians, too, especially at the time of the Ionian Revolt (500/499–594/93 BCE), can both be and have symmachoi.11 During Xerxes' invasion of Greece, however, when Ionians and other Greeks make up part of the Persian forces, Herodotus chooses not to focus on their “alliance” with Persia. Instead, he stresses their Greek identity. What is more significant to Herodotus, and presumably to his readers, is not that these Greeks are Persian allies, but that they are Greeks fighting on the Persian side. For instance, while he notes that there were 300,000 “foreign” (βαρβάρων) troops in Mardonius' army at Plataea, Herodotus estimates that “Mardonius' Greek allies” (τῶν…Ἑλλήνων τῶν Μαρδονίου συμμάχων) who fought in the battle may have numbered 50,000 (9.32.2).12 Page 198 → Thus, if Xerxes' herald in 8.24.2 were inviting only the Greek sailors to come to Thermopylae by addressing them as andres symmachoi, Herodotus would likely call attention to this fact. That Herodotus makes no comment at all about this point in 8.24.2 argues against the Greek sailors' being the exclusive audience for Xerxes' spectacle. Besides, just as Greeks constituted a relatively small number of the soldiers in the Persian army, they also constituted a small number of the sailors in the Persian navy. Of the 1,207 triremes that Herodotus reports Xerxes had at his disposal on the eve of his invasion of Greece (7.89–95), only 307 belonged to Greeks—namely, to the Greeks of Asia and of the Cyclades.13 It does appear, then, that the ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι in 8.24.2 is the same group of sailors as the παντὸς τοῦ στρατοπέδου: Xerxes' herald invites all the sailors to Thermopylae, not just the Greek sailors.

The Viewing of Xerxes' Spectacle: Interpretive Problems In 8.25, Herodotus finally turns to the sailors' actual viewing of Xerxes' spectacle. Initially, at least, Herodotus drums up readers' interest in the forthcoming spectacle by underlining in 8.25.1 just how interested the sailors are to cross over to Thermopylae to tour the battlefield. ταῦτα ἐπαγγειλαμένου, μετὰ ταῦτα οὐδὲν ἐγίνετο πλοίων σπανιώτερον· οὕτω πολλοὶ ἤθελον θεήσασθαι. [When [the herald] had announced these things, after this, nothing was scarcer than boats, so many men wanted to gaze at [the spectacle].] (8.25.1) This promising beginning, with the sailors scrambling to get a look at Thermopylae, only makes the ultimate failure of Xerxes' spectacle all the more striking. Herodotus narrates the sailors' viewing of the battlefield as follows. διαπεραιωθέντες δὲ ἐθηεῦντο διεξιόντες τοὺς νεκρούς· πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο τοὺς κειμένους εἶναι πάντας Λακεδαιμονίους καὶ Θεσπιέας, ὁρῶντες καὶ τοὺς εἵλωτας. οὐ μὲν οὐδ’ ἐλάνθανε τοὺς Page 199 → διαβεβηκότας Ξέρξης ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ· καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ γελοῖον ἦν· τῶν μὲν χίλιοι ἐφαίνοντο νέκροι κείμενοι, οἱ δὲ πάντες ἐκέατο ἁλέες συγκεκομισμένοι ἐς τὠυτὸ χωρίον, τέσσερες χιλιάδες. ταύτην μὲν τὴν ἡμέρην πρὸς θέην ἐτράποντο, τῇ δ’ ὑστεραίῃ οἳ μὲν ἀπέπλεον ἐς Ἱστιαίην ἐπὶ τὰς νέας… [When [the sailors] had been conveyed across, they went through and gazed at the corpses. All

supposed that those [Greeks] lying dead were all Lacedaemonians and Thespians, although they were looking also at the Helots. But Xerxes, in having done those things concerning his own dead, did not deceive at all those [sailors] who had crossed over. For, in fact, it was absolutely laughable. Of the one side [i.e., the Persians] a thousand were seen lying as corpses, but all the others [i.e., the Greeks] lay collected all together in the same place, four thousand [of them]. This day [the sailors] were occupied with gazing at [the corpses], but on the next day they sailed back to the fleet at Histiaea…] (8.25)

At the same time that the sailors leave the battlefield of Thermopylae in 8.25.3 and sail back to Histiaea, so too do readers direct their gaze away from Xerxes' unsuccessful spectacle. There are several interpretative problems that arise for readers in 8.25 regarding both what Xerxes' sailors see and do not see at Thermopylae, and in what ways the sailors are deceived and are not deceived by Xerxes' arrangement of the corpses on the battlefield. Scholars have puzzled, for example, over the sentence πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο τοὺς κειμένους εἶναι πάντας Λακεδαιμονίους καὶ Θεσπιέας, ὁρῶντες καὶ τοὺς εἵλωτας in 8.25.1. The placement of καὶ Θεσπιέας, in particular, seems problematic. If the manuscript reading is accepted, Herodotus says that the sailors, although they see a conglomeration of Lacedaemonian, Thespian, and Helotic corpses, mistakenly suppose (ἠπιστέατο) that all the Greek corpses that Xerxes has gathered together belong to Lacedaemonians and Thespians alone.14 It is more plausible, scholars have argued, that the Persian sailors would have assumed that all the fallen Greeks were Lacedaemonians—the most notable fighters at Thermopylae—and not a mixture of Lacedaemonians and Thespians, the latter of whom presumably would have been little known to the non-Greek members of Xerxes' navy.15 Another problem, related to the Page 200 → first, is that Herodotus says that “all” (πάντες) the sailors made the same mistaken identification of the Greek corpses. Are we to infer from the word πάντες that even the Greeks who were serving in the Persian navy could not tell the difference between Lacedaemonians, Thespians, and Helots?16 The interpretative problems that the sentence πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο…τοὺς εἵλωτας (8.25.1) poses appear formidable.

The Plundering of the Battlefield Dead A solution to these particular problems in 8.25.1 is reached by considering the episode in the light of the practices of ancient Greek warfare. Following a battle, the victorious army had little time to celebrate. Immediate attention was required for the bodies of those who had been slain in the fighting. “After a few hours,” Victor Davis Hanson (2000, 204) observes, “…the very process of picking up or dragging the corpses off the battlefield became nearly impossible, especially in the heat of a Greek summer.” In those few hours, says Pamela Vaughn (1991, 51), the summer sun “could cook flesh…and consequently expand the corpses into grotesque caricatures of human beings.” Over the span of a few days, the bodies would have become “rotten, bloated, and decomposed to such a degree that they could not have been kept intact” (Hanson 205), and would have had to have been left (or buried) where they lay. While time and the elements worked against the victorious army's efforts to tend to the corpses, the defeated army had further obstacles to overcome, as Vaughn (47) explains. During the time the conqueror was collecting his own dead and viewing and plundering the bodies of the enemy, the defeated army would have regrouped and sent a herald to ask for a truce in order to collect its fallen. By the time the defeated force was allowed to retrieve its own men, virtually all tokens of any value—shields, helmets, cloaks and the like—would surely have been stripped by the Page 201 → other side; the dead, then, were usually returned to the losing army absolutely nude, and thus apparently without specific identifying markings (e.g., distinctive clothing, jewelry, personal documents).17 Even if the victors began the process of stripping the arms from the dead directly after the battle, before significant decay of the corpses had set in, they likely still had to struggle to unbuckle the armor from bodies stiffened by rigor mortis (Hanson 204).

Concerning the battlefield at Thermopylae, Herodotus tells us that the first thing the victorious king Xerxes did following the battle was “go through the corpses” (διεξήιε διὰ τῶν νεκρῶν, 7.238.1). In his anger at the Spartan general Leonidas, says Herodotus, Xerxes ordered Leonidas' corpse to be beheaded and the head impaled on a stake (7.238.1–2). Then Xerxes would have had to turn his attention to the thousands of Persian and Greek corpses that lay about the battlefield of Thermopylae. The battle took place in late summer 480 BCE, probably either in August or in September.18 Regarding the conditions that the fighters at Thermopylae would have faced, Paul Cartledge (2006, 141–42) writes the following. It was deep summer. At that time of year a haze of heat and dust often squats uncomfortably over the plain [of Thermopylae], and temperatures rise to the high 30s C (100°F). Water supply was not a problem, but the flies were. Thus, after the fighting at Thermopylae had ended, the summertime conditions would have made haste an imperative in whatever Xerxes was to do with the corpses. If the sailors did visit the site of Thermopylae two days after the battle, Xerxes had only about a day and a half to dispose of or arrange all the bodies: the remainder of the day of the battle—a battle which Herodotus implies (7.223.1) was over, perhaps, by midday—and the day that followed the battle. Herodotus reports (8.24.1, 25.2) that Xerxes had 20,000 Page 202 → Persian corpses to administer to, and 4,000 Greek.19 In the limited time in which Xerxes' men had to work, simply “shoveling” (to paraphrase Green 1996, 142) 19,000 Persian corpses into specially dug trenches was quite an accomplishment. As for the remaining 1,000 Persian corpses, Xerxes either has left them lying (κείμενοι, 8.25.2) where they fell on the battlefield or has had them moved to unspecified spots. Whatever the case, the clear implication is that the 1,000 Persian corpses remain scattered in some fashion over the battlefield. By contrast, the 4,000 Greek corpses have been “gathered together” (ἁλέες συγκεκομισμένοι) by Xerxes “into the same place” (ἐς τὠυτὸ χωρίον) (8.25.2).20 Presumably, Xerxes has had the Greek corpses mounded up on and around the hillock at which the Greeks made their last stand against the Persians (7.225.2–3).21 Before having the Greek corpses moved to one area, Xerxes—as a victorious Greek general in his position would surely have done—presumably ordered his men to strip the corpses of their arms and clothing. Xerxes' men would have had to have worked quickly before the corpses' decomposition made stripping or even moving them impossible. The end result of Xerxes' efforts would have been an enormous heap of Greek corpses—all of them nude and thus devoid of any distinctive paraphernalia.22 The victorious army's stripping of the corpses after battle is the solution to the problems arising from the sentence πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο τοὺς κειμένους εἶναι πάντας Λακεδαιμονίους καὶ Θεσπιέας, ὁρῶντες καὶ τοὺς εἵλωτας in 8.25.1. Xerxes' sailors cannot differentiate between Lacedaemonian, Thespian, and Helotic corpses because at the time when the sailors actually see the corpses, it had become nearly impossible to differentiate one corpse from another. Deprived of their equipment and clothing, all the corpses would have looked virtually the same. In addition, the corpses Page 203 → would have suffered the ill effects of being left out under the summer sun for two days. Of the Lacedaemonian corpses, the Spartan corpses alone, even when they had been stripped and had started to decay, might have had one feature that distinguished them from the others: their long hair.23 But it remains uncertain how many of the sailors, whether Greek or foreign, were familiar with this Spartan custom.24 Thus, even if the sailors noticed that some of the corpses had long hair, they might not have known that these particular corpses, and not others, belonged to Spartans.

Lacedaemonian and Thespian Hoplites and Helotic Psiloi The question that has most troubled scholars about the sentence πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο…τοὺς εἵλωτας in 8.25.1, however, is why Herodotus contrasts the Lacedaemonian and Thespian corpses as a group with the Helotic corpses. Again, the sentence may be translated: “All supposed that those [Greeks] lying dead were all Lacedaemonians and Thespians, although they were looking also at the Helots.” In order to understand the contrast Herodotus is making, we must consider ways in which the Lacedaemonians and Thespians were like each other, but were unlike the Helots. One thing that separated the Lacedaemonians and Thespians who fought at Thermopylae from the Helots was their different social and political status. The Lacedaemonians—the Spartans, in particular—and Thespians were free citizens of their respective states, whereas the Helots were, more or less,

serfs, under the domination and control of the Spartan state.25 Moreover, there is another potential difference between the Spartans and Thespians, on the one hand, and the Helots, on the other, that may be more significant for the purposes of our investigation: their different military equipment. Herodotus states repeatedly that at Plataea, at any rate, the seven Helots sent to accompany each of the 5,000 Spartans (Σπαρτιῆται) into battle were light armed (ψιλοί), while the Spartans were all hoplites (ὁπλῖται).26 Most Page 204 → scholars have estimated these light-armed Helots at Plataea of little military value.27 Hans van Wees (1995, 162–65) convincingly argues, however, that our sources for Greek history, Herodotus included, show a “hoplite bias”: the sources consistently either minimize or are silent about the impact that light-armed troops had on Greek warfare, focusing almost exclusively on the role that hoplites played in the fighting. The emphasis Herodotus places on the number and military preparedness of the light-armed Helots at Plataea is, thus, extraordinary. Herodotus is less forthcoming about either the numbers or employment of the Helots at Thermopylae.28 Besides 8.25.1, Herodotus mentions the presence of Helots at Thermopylae in only one other passage. In 7.229.1, the Spartan Eurytus, sent away from Thermopylae by Leonidas because of an eye malady, has “his Helot” (τὸν εἵλωτα) lead him back to help the Greeks make their last stand against the Persians.29 The Helot delivers the blinded Eurytus to Thermopylae and then flees. Here, the Helot is clearly a servant, such as each Spartan brought with him to battle in order to carry his weapons and to help him arm. Perhaps, then, the Helots that the Persian sailors in 8.25 see among the pile of Greek corpses at Thermopylae are merely the servants of the 300 Spartans who died in the battle. There is a strong possibility, however, that these Helots had been pressed into service by the Spartans as light-armed troops (ψιλοί), just as the 35,000 Helots were so employed at Plataea. If so, the Helots at Thermopylae would have indeed differed from the Spartans and Thespians in the type of military equipment they bore: the Helots would have been ψιλοί; the Spartans and Thespians ὁπλῖται. Page 205 → Xerxes' sailors in 8.25.2 think that all the Greek corpses are those of Lacedaemonians/Spartans and Thespians apparently because they assume that all the Greeks who fought at Thermopylae had been armed as hoplites. In addition, the Persian sailors had not fought directly against the Greek soldiers at Thermopylae; thus, unlike the Persian soldiers in this battle, the Persian sailors would not have known from firsthand experience exactly how the Greek soldiers at Thermopylae had been armed. Herodotus uses the designation “Lacedaemonians and Thespians” to refer to the hoplites at Thermopylae as a whole, therefore, because the Lacedaemonians (i.e., the 300 Spartans under Leonidas' command) and Thespians were the only contingents of hoplites to fight the Persian soldiers to the end and so perish in their entirety.30 His contrast of Lacedaemonians and Thespians to Helots in 8.25.1 is a contrast of hoplites to light-armed troops. When the corpses had been stripped of their arms, not even the Greeks who were serving in the Persian navy could have told the different types of soldier apart. Thus, in 8.25.1 “all” (πάντες) the Persian sailors—Greek as well as barbarian—make the same mistaken identification of the Greek corpses, mistaking the light-armed Helots for the hoplite Spartans and Thespians. In identifying the Helots as hoplites, the Persian sailors suppose in effect that the defeat at Thermopylae was more costly to the Greeks than it actually was. If, as many scholars think, the Helots at Thermopylae were 900 in number, and if, as the Persian sailors seem to think, these 900 had all been hoplites, then the Greeks would have lost an additional 900 hoplites, rather than the same number of light-armed Helots. Losing that many more hoplites would have been a serious blow to the Greek cause.31 Page 206 →

The Failure of Xerxes' Deceptive Spectacle Thus, Xerxes' pile of Greek corpses in 8.25.2, with each corpse stripped of its clothing and equipment, is inherently deceptive. It leads the sailors who visit the battlefield at Thermopylae to mistake rather expendable Helots for valuable hoplites, and so to make a mistaken judgment about the extent of the Greek defeat. There is

little in the text to suggest, however, that Xerxes deliberately misleads the sailors regarding the Greek corpses.32 Xerxes has no apparent intention of concealing the fact that many of the fallen Greeks were light armed. On the contrary, the sailors make an honest mistake; they come to the erroneous conclusion on their own that the Greek dead were all “Lacedaemonians and Thespians”—that is, hoplites. Xerxes has some success, then, in deceiving his sailors with his spectacle involving the corpses in 8.24–25, but the deception that succeeds is unintentional and concerns the wrong group of corpses. It is the numbers of Persian dead, not of Greek, that Xerxes wishes to misrepresent, and in this regard Herodotus is adamant that Xerxes is utterly unsuccessful. Immediately after Herodotus says that “Xerxes, in having done those things concerning his own dead, did not deceive at all those [sailors] who had crossed over” (οὐ μὲν οὐδ’ ἐλάνθανε τοὺς διαβεβηκότας Ξέρξης ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ), he adds, “For, in fact, it was absolutely laughable” (καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ γελοῖον ἦν) (8.25.2). As we will see, the sentence οὐ μὲν οὐδ’ ἐλάνθανε…τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ in 8.25.2 is set in juxtaposition to, and helps explain the significance of, the preceding sentence in 8.25.1 (regarding the sailors' mistaken identification of the corpses). 8.25.2: Part 1 Indeed, it is on the force of the combination οὐ μὲν οὐδέ in 8.25.2—and on the translation of οὐδέ in particular—that the precise interpretation of the sentence πάντες δὲ ἠπιστέατο…τοὺς εἵλωτας in 8.25.1 hinges. On οὐ μὲν οὐδέ, G. L. Cooper maintains that the three words taken together are adversative: they draw a contrast between the present sentence and the Page 207 → immediately preceding one.33 With οὐ μὲν οὐδέ, Herodotus thus contrasts what he is describing in 8.25.2 with what he he has just described in 8.25.1. Particularly important in 8.25.2 is the translation of οὐδέ. While citing this passage, Cooper (2002, 3067 [2.69.60.1Q]) notes that “[ο]ὐδέ as an emphatic negative not at all, certainly not even is confined to a few places in Herodotus.” Similarly, J. D. Denniston (1950, 363) takes οὐδέ in 8.25.2 as “an emphatic negative” and translates it as “not at all.” Denniston makes two additional comments regarding his interpretation of οὐδέ in 8.25.2. He argues both that we are to supply mentally “though [Xerxes] did deceive them about the enemy dead” (198), and that in 8.25.2 οὐδέ “seems to contrast what is untrue with what is true” (583). Johannes van Ophuijsen and Peter Stork (1999, 238), however, expressly disagree with Denniston's translation of οὐδέ in 8.25.2 and give to οὐδέ the more usual translation “not…either.” The translation of οὐδέ, in particular, in 8.25.2 indicates the exact contrast that Herodotus is drawing between the sailors' misidentification of the Greek corpses in 8.25.1 and Xerxes' failure to deceive his sailors regarding the Persian dead in 8.25.2. If Denniston is correct, then with οὐδέ, Herodotus is contrasting the truth in the previous sentence (8.25.1) with the untruth in the present sentence (8.25.2). The truth in the previous sentence (8.25.1) is that Xerxes did deceive the Persian sailors into believing that all the Greeks who perished at Thermopylae were “Lacedaemonians and Thespians,” or hoplites; the untruth in the present sentence (8.25.2) is that Xerxes did not deceive his sailors into believing that fewer Persian soldiers fell at Thermopylae than actually did. If van Ophuijsen and Stork are correct, then with οὐδέ, Herodotus is arguing that Xerxes did not deceive the sailors either with regard to the Persian corpses (8.25.2). This implies that Xerxes also had not deceived the sailors with regard to the Greek corpses (8.25.1).34 Of the two interpretations of οὐδέ in 8.25.2, that of Denniston (and Cooper) is more convincing than that of van Ophuijsen and Stork, but only with an important qualification. A significant factor that all three commentators (excluding Cooper) in their different ways fail to notice is that a deception Page 208 → did occur with regard to the identity of the Greek dead in 8.25.1 (contra van Ophuijsen and Stork), but that this deception appears to have been entirely accidental (contra Denniston). Thus, although Denniston rightly notes that a deception occurred involving the Greek corpses, he completely misses Herodotus' ironic stance on the deception. Herodotus implies that Xerxes is so inept at misrepresenting the events at Thermopylae that he succeeds in entirely unexpected ways and yet fails in his very objective: to convince his sailors that far fewer Persians died at Thermopylae than actually did. Denniston's (and Cooper's) translation of οὐδέ as “not at all,” however, fits the context well. Herodotus uses οὐδέ in 8.25.2 to emphasize that, while the sailors may have been accidentally deceived into mistaking the precise

identity of all the Greek corpses in 8.25.1, Xerxes deceived the sailors not at all, whether accidentally or intentionally, regarding the number and relative placement of the Persian dead in 8.25.2.35 Another interpretative problem in 8.25.2 is the exact applicability of the phrase ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ. Herodotus says that Xerxes did not deceive his sailors “in having done (πρήξας) those things (ταῦτα) concerning his own dead.” Both ταῦτα (“those things”) and πρήξας (“having done”) are intrinsically vague words. Just what are the things that Xerxes has done with the Persian corpses? As we have seen, Herodotus in 8.24.1 says that Xerxes did two different things with the Persian corpses: he left out around 1,000 of them (ὑπολιπόμενος τούτων ὡς χιλίους), and buried the other 19,000 in trenches. In the direct context of 8.25, however, Herodotus mentions only one of the two actions Xerxes took regarding the Persian corpses. From the sentence τῶν μὲν χίλιοι…τέσσερες χιλιάδες in 8.25.2, we are reminded that 1,000 Persian corpses are lying out (κείμενοι) for all to see. Judging from the close proximity of the phrase ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ to the sentence τῶν μὲν χίλιοι…τέσσερες χιλιάδες, which follows shortly after it, it seems certain that the sailors are not deceived by the position of the 1,000 Persian corpses, at any rate. But does the rather inexact expression ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ in 8.25.2 refer as well to a second thing that does not deceive the sailors—namely, Xerxes' burial of the 19,000 Persian corpses in trenches? Perhaps the sailors notice the conspicuously large, leaf-strewn trenches and Page 209 → recognize that these trenches are actually mass graves, whether for their fallen Persian compatriots or for some of the (enemy) Greek dead. After all, the sailors apparently spend a large part, at least, of one day (ταύτην…τὴν ἡμέρην πρὸς θέην ἐτράποντο, 8.25.3) gazing at the corpses, and so would have had time to walk around and possibly spot the trenches. With the phrase ταῦτα πρήξας περὶ τοὺς νεκροὺς τοὺς ἑωυτοῦ (8.25.2), then, Herodotus may imply that the Persian sailors are deceived by neither of the things Xerxes has done (8.24.1) with the Persian corpses, neither by the 1,000 corpses Xerxes has left out, nor by the 19,000 he has buried. 8.25.2: Part 2 The most significant statement in the entire episode (8.24–25), however, is Herodotus' assertion: “For, in fact, it was absolutely laughable” (καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ γελοῖον ἦν, 8.25.2). We therefore need to analyze this statement's constituent elements carefully. The combination καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί is particularly important. Of the four words in this combination, the first three, καὶ γὰρ δή, represent a strengthened form of the idiom, καὶ γάρ. Cooper (1998, 1353 [69.32.21]) translates καὶ γάρ as “for in fact” and suggests (1312 [69.17.5]) how the addition of δή subtly changes the idiom. Οὐ (μὴ) γὰρ δὴ (…γε) rejects an idea with a suggestion that anyone who entertains it is being unforgiveably naive (as) certainly not (at any rate)…The positive form is καὶ γὰρ δή. But this does not have quite the same presumptuous insistence which the absoluteness of the negative and the (presence of) γε in οὐ γὰρ δή (…γε) adds to that locution… The explanatory force of καὶ γάρ transforms, with the addition of δή, then, into almost a “presumptuous insistence.” Using καὶ γὰρ δή, a speaker would summarily brush aside any objections to the explanation being offered. Finally, the second καί in the combination καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί is a special use of adverbial καί, whereby καί attaches to and intensifies the word that follows it (Cooper 2002, 3015 [2.69.41.16C]). In 8.25.2, as Cooper points out, the word that follows—and is therefore emphasized by—adverbial καί is the adjective γελοῖον (“laughable”). In 7.236.1, Xerxes' brother Achaemenes uses the same combination καὶ Page 210 → γὰρ δὴ καί.36 Afraid that Xerxes may take Demaratus' advice to use Cythera as a base from which to attack the Peloponnese, Achaemenes makes the following statement. Ὦ βασιλεῦ, ὁρῶ σε ἀνδρὸς ἐνδεκόμενον λόγους ὃς φθονέει τοι εὖ πρήσσοντι ἢ καὶ προδιδοῖ πρήγματα τὰ σά. καὶ γὰρ δὴ καὶ τρόποισι τοιούτοισι χρεώμενοι Ἕλληνες χαίρουσι· τοῦ τε εὐτυχέειν φθονέουσι καὶ τὸ κρέσσον στυγέουσι. [King, I see that you are accepting the words of a man who begrudges you doing well or is even a

traitor to your affairs. For, in fact, Greeks delight in having just such ways as these: they are envious of good fortune and hate the stronger.] (7.236.1)

With καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί, Achaemenes intends to shatter any illusions Xerxes may have that Greeks like Demaratus can be trusted. Achaemenes' tone is polemical, as if he expects that Xerxes, and perhaps other Persians present, may disagree with him both about Demaratus and about Greeks in general. With the second καί, Achaemenes underlines τρόποισι τοιούτοισι (“just such ways as these”), the two latter words forming essentially one word unit. An exaggerated translation of the sentence beginning with καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί, which tries to capture something of the force of this combination of particles is: “For in fact ways just such as these Greeks delight in having.” Herodotus himself sounds a similar polemical note in 8.25.2 by using καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί. He is somewhat defensive, as if he expects some readers may doubt just how “laughable” (γελοῖον) Xerxes' deception at Thermopylae was. With καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί, Herodotus strives to eliminate any uncertainty regarding the ridiculousness of the attempted deception, making a point to underline γελοῖον with the second καί. An exaggerated translation of the sentence beginning with καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί in 8.25.2 is: “For in fact it was absolutely laughable.” Herodotus does not specify, however, precisely who finds Xerxes' ruse laughable in 8.25.2. The sailors themselves may seem to be leading candidates as the source for this pronouncement about Xerxes' deception.37 After Page 211 → all, the sailors are the agents in this part of the passage, and they are probably the ultimate sources anyway—if the episode is historical—for Herodotus' information about the episode.38 Just because the sailors were not fooled by Xerxes' arrangement of the corpses, however, does not mean that they would go so far as to term the arrangement “laughable.” Such harsh criticism on the sailors' part of an act of the Persian king—a criticism which seems to imply dissatisfaction with Xerxes' leadership in the war, or even with his rule in general—would be shocking.39 From his source for the story, whatever the source was, Herodotus may have gathered that Xerxes failed to deceive the sailors, but it does not necessarily follow that the same source judged the deception “laughable.” A much more likely candidate as the source for this laughter is Herodotus himself.40 As we saw in chapter 3, Herodotus clearly “laughs” once in the Histories—namely, in 4.36.2.41 Herodotus' laughter in 4.36.2 occurs in a highly polemical context, where Herodotus is criticizing the products of contemporary map-makers. He “laughs” (γελῶ, 4.36.2), says Herodotus, when he sees the overly schematic (with Okeanos encircling the earth) and overly symmetrical (with Asia the same size as Europe) maps that have been produced. The polemical laughter in 4.36.2 comes immediately before Herodotus himself gives his own account of the size and shape of the continents. Thus, Herodotus' polemic in 4.36.2 is directed at rivals in the field of geography (i.e., the map-makers), against whose work Herodotus is contrasting his own work in the Histories. Herodotus' laughter (γελοῖον, 8.25.2) at Xerxes' failed deception regarding the dead at Thermopylae similarly involves polemic against a rival. With his spectacle involving the corpses, Xerxes becomes a historiographical rival for Herodotus because the spectacle is accompanied by an (implied) account of a past event: the Battle of Thermopylae. Based on the arrangement of the corpses on the battlefield, Xerxes' sailors would need to reconstruct mentally the events of the battle in order for the position of the Persian and Greek corpses to make sense. The resulting account that Xerxes expects his sailors to construct overlaps with and conflicts with Herodotus' own narrative of the battle. Thus, with his polemical laughter in 8.25.2, Herodotus Page 212 → seeks to discredit Xerxes' implied account of the Battle of Thermopylae; in the process, Herodotus indirectly confirms the account of the battle that he himself gives in 7.175–77, 198–233.

The Verbal Component of Xerxes' Spectacle According to Herodotus' narrative, Xerxes' account of the battle at Thermopylae (8.24–25) consists of two components—a verbal and a visual. We have already discussed the visual component: Xerxes' arrangement of the corpses on the battlefield. The verbal component, however, is the speech that Xerxes' herald delivers to the fleet (8.24.2). As we have seen, by addressing the sailors with the respectful title ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι, the herald not only invites the sailors as a group, Greeks as well as non-Greeks, to visit the battlefield at Thermopylae, but also

attempts to win their favor and, thus, a more favorable reception for Xerxes' spectacle involving the corpses. The remainder of the opening words of the herald's speech (8.24.2) further serve to ingratiate the herald (and through him, Xerxes) to the sailors. Xerxes, says the herald, benevolently “allows” (παραδίδωσι) the sailors to go to Thermopylae.42 The herald begins his speech proper by identifying to whom the sailors owe this boon of visiting the site, “King Xerxes” (βασιλεὺς Ξέρξης). Xerxes will remain the primary focus of the herald's speech throughout. The king's invitation, continues the herald, is open “to any of you who wishes” (τῷ βουλομένῳ ὑμέων) to accept it. By the good will of their king, the sailors have a choice of whether to view the battlefield or not; traveling to Thermopylae is not compulsory. Xerxes, moreover, is allowing any sailor who so chooses to “leave his station” (ἐκλιπόντα τὴν τάξιν) and “go” (ἐλθόντα) to Thermopylae. In effect, Xerxes is giving his sailors the day off. Ostensibly, at least, the sailors can tour the battlefield at their leisure. Theāsthai and Thōma The herald's winning tone in 8.24.2 changes, however, with his speech's very next word (following ἐλθόντα), θεήσασθαι. With θεήσασθαι, the herald adopts a rhetorical strategy that will inform the rest of his speech; from this Page 213 → point on, he is interested not so much in ingratiating himself (and Xerxes) to the sailors as in subtly influencing how the sailors view the spectacle of the corpses at Thermopylae. As the word that signals the herald's shift in strategy, θεᾶσθαι is telling.43 In the Histories, theāsthai can almost invariably be translated as “to behold or gaze at (in wonder).”44 Besides the herald's use of theāsthai in 8.24.2, Herodotus himself uses the verb twice more in the episode: θεήσασθαι (8.25.1) and ἐθηεῦντο (8.25.1), and the related noun θέη (“gazing”) appears as well (8.25.3). Each time, the “gazing” refers to either the sailors' prospective or actual gazing at the corpses. In addition, when Herodotus next speaks of Xerxes' fleet in 8.66.1, he recalls the activity in which Xerxes' sailors were engaged when his narrative last dealt with them: “beholding the Laconian disaster” (θεησάμενοι τὸ τρῶμα τὸ Λακωνικόν) at Thermopylae. Herodotus often uses theāsthai to connote wide-eyed wonder on the part of the beholder.45 As such, theāsthai forms part of Herodotus' larger historiographic concern with θώματα, “wonders.”46 Presumably owing to the shared root of the two words, θεᾶσθαι and θῶμα seem inextricably linked in Herodotus' thought.47 At times, Herodotus makes the connection Page 214 → between theāsthai and thōma more explicit by using the two words in conjunction with one another.48 Given Herodotus' interest in thōmata, as evidenced, for example, by his statement in the first sentence of the Histories (the proem) that his work is meant, in part, to commemorate “great and wondrous achievements” (ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά), one would think that Herodotus would apply the verb theāsthai to his own eye-witness investigations as an inquirer. He certainly uses both θῶμα and θωμάζειν (“be amazed”) to refer to his own judgments, such as θῶμα δέ μοι (“It is a wonder to me,” 9.65.2) and θωμάζω ὦν (“I am therefore amazed,” 4.42.1). But the only time Herodotus uses theāsthai of himself is 2.148.5, when he is a member of a group—Herodotus uses the plural “we”—who together “behold” (θεησάμενοι) the upper chambers of the Egyptian Labyrinth.49 Why, then, does Herodotus not use theāsthai of himself as an individual inquirer? The reason is that he does not want to associate himself with an activity often performed by characters in the Histories, whereby one character uses theāsthai to invite others to “gaze at” something. Such a character exploits for his own purposes the connotations of theāsthai and its connection with thōma. The characters who use theāsthai in this way are, moreover, almost always kings. When kings use theāsthai, they invite the viewer to “behold” their possessions, power, or achievements in a state of “wonder” (thōma).50 More precisely, with theāsthai kings ask the viewer to Page 215 → behold their possessions, power, or achievements as wonders (thōmata). In the process, theāsthai becomes a tool with which to affirm a king's royal pride and magnificence.51 It is with this close relationship between θεᾶσθαι and θῶμα in mind, then, that Herodotus has Xerxes' herald at Histiaea invite the sailors to “gaze in wonder at” (θεήσασθαι, 8.24.2) the achievement of the Persian army at Thermopylae. Specifically, the herald summons the sailors “to behold how he [i.e., Xerxes] fights against those foolish persons who expected to overcome the King's power” (θεήσασθαι ὅκως μάχεται πρὸς τοὺς ἀνοήτους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, οἳ ἤλπισαν τὴν βασιλέος δύναμιν ὑπερβαλέεσθαι). With theāsthai, the herald asks the sailors to

consider as a thōma the entire clause introduced by ὅκως (“how”). Thus, the herald asks the sailors, even before they arrive at Thermopylae, to look upon as a thōma “how Xerxes fights” (ὅκως μάχεται)—that is, how the Persian army fought in the battle. So impressive was the victory won by Xerxes and the Persian army, implies the herald, that it should be counted an object of wonder (thōma). The herald's use of theāsthai in 8.24.2 is all part of his attempt, which continues in the clause introduced by ὅκως, to condition the sailors' response to the spectacle Xerxes has constructed with the corpses at Thermopylae. Xerxes and Self-Aggrandizement The sailors' “gazing” in 8.24.2, however, takes on an added significance because it occurs in connection with Xerxes. In the Histories, Xerxes is the champion of gazing.52 Of the forty-nine examples of θεᾶσθαι in Herodotus' work, fourteen refer to Xerxes. Nine times Xerxes “gazes at” his armed forces—whether they are at rest, on the move, or engaged in battle.53 David Page 216 → Konstan (1987, 62–66) argues that Xerxes' predilection for looking over his troops illustrates a trait shared by Herodotus' Persian kings in general—that of objectifying reality and of appreciating only the quantitative value of things.54 Moreover, Matthew Christ (1994, 171–75) shows that Herodotean kings often share with Herodotus an interest in enumeration; unlike Herodotus, however, these kings count things, including their own possessions, out of a desire for self-aggrandizement.55 In the invitation to visit the battlefield at Thermopylae (8.24.2), Herodotus has Xerxes' herald ask the sailors, in effect, to engage in an activity often reserved for Xerxes himself in the Histories: gazing at (theāsthai) and counting the king's possessions (i.e., his troops) for the purpose of glorifying the king. When Xerxes surveys and counts his troops, such as in 7.59.3–60.3, he is interested in determining, and in admiring, just how many men he has at his disposal. Quantity is usually what matters to Xerxes. At Thermopylae, however, Xerxes tries to convince his sailors in 8.24–25 how few men he lost in the battle, as only 1,000 Persian corpses are supposed to be visible to the sailors. Elsewhere, Xerxes takes pride in the number of troops under his command—such as in his words to Demaratus in 7.101–105—since he considers the size of his army a reflection of his power as king.56 The more troops Xerxes has, the more powerful a king he is. But in 8.24–25 Xerxes intends for his sailors at Thermopylae to attribute the apparent paucity of Persian losses in the battle, based on the number of corpses visible on the battlefield, to the martial prowess of his fighting men. Here, Xerxes stresses quality over quantity. According to his arrangement of the corpses, Xerxes implies that his troops succeeded at Thermopylae not because of their superior numbers, but because of their superior quality as soldiers.57 The superior fighting skill of his soldiers contributed both to fewer of them dying than the Greeks and, more importantly, to the Persian victory. The self-congratulatory message Xerxes wishes to convey to Page 217 → his sailors at Thermopylae, then, is not the more troops, the better the king, but the higher quality of troops, the better the king. In the continuation of the herald's speech to the fleet in 8.24.2, Herodotus brings out Xerxes' desire for selfaggrandizement even more clearly. With the set of clauses beginning with ὅκως (i.e., ὅκως μάχεται πρὸς τοὺς ἀνοήτους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, οἳ ἤλπισαν τὴν βασιλέος δύναμιν ὑπερβαλέεσθαι [“how (Xerxes) fights against those foolish persons who expected to overcome the King's power”]), the herald identifies Xerxes with his army. Further, he links Xerxes' “power” (δύναμις) to the military effectiveness of his soldiers. The more effective Xerxes can make his soldiers appear, then, the more effective and powerful he will appear as king. By severely minimizing the apparent Persian losses at Thermopylae, Xerxes tries to persuade his sailors that the Persian king and army are too mighty to be “overcome” (ὑπερβαλέεσθαι).58 In order to emphasize further Xerxes' and his army's superiority, the herald in 8.24.2 denigrates the Persians' Greek opponents at Thermopylae. The Greeks were “foolish” (ἀνοήτους), says the herald, to “expect” (ἤλπισαν) that they could oppose Xerxes. In the Histories, ἐλπίζειν (“expect”) is a word charged with meaning. Almost without exception in the Histories, ἐλπίζειν connotes either a mistaken belief for the present or a mistaken expectation for the future.59 Herodotus thus has the herald in 8.24.2 play with the negative connotations of the Herodotean narrator's own vocabulary to express how little hope, from the Persian perspective, the Greeks actually have in successfully resisting the advance of Xerxes and his army through Greece.

Both from the association of theāsthai elsewhere in the Histories with Page 218 → Xerxes' gazing at his troops and from the herald's emphasis on Xerxes' military might in 8.24.2, Herodotus puts the focus of the herald's message as a whole squarely on Xerxes. It is significant as well that, however much the Persian king and army may have been identified with one another in the minds of Xerxes' Persian subjects, Xerxes invites his sailors to come see how he, not his soldiers, “fights” (μάχεται) against upstarts like the Greeks. In preparing the spectacle of the corpses at Thermopylae and the implied account of the battle that the spectacle promotes, Xerxes in 8.24–25 has himself in mind much more than he has the sailors who come to view the battlefield.60 An underlying aim of Xerxes' charade involving the corpses is to repair his own kingly pride—a pride that had likely been damaged by the protracted nature of the Persian victory at Thermopylae. Persuading the sailors that the Persians had actually won a glorious victory at Thermopylae will lead them to conclude, Xerxes hopes, that he has lost none of his own glory and majesty as their king. Any effect that viewing the falsified results of the fighting at Thermopylae may have on the sailors personally, such as raising their spirits or improving their morale, is of comparatively little concern to the Xerxes that Herodotus depicts.61 Following the battle at Thermopylae, Xerxes is interested in what his sailors think of him, not in what they think of themselves as part of his armed forces.

The Lacedaemonians and the Battlefield of Marathon (6.120) Xerxes' aims for his spectacle involving the corpses at Thermopylae (8.24–25) come into sharper focus when we examine Herodotus' description of another tour of a battlefield, that of the Lacedaemonians at Marathon (6.120). The things that the Athenians receive from the Lacedaemonians as a result of this tour are the very things that Xerxes does not receive from his sailors as a result of their tour of the battlefield at Thermopylae. Herodotus describes the Lacedaemonians' visit to Marathon as follows. Λακεδαιμονίων δὲ ἧκον ἐς τὰς Ἀθήνας δισχίλιοι μετὰ τὴν πανσέληνον, ἔχοντες σπουδὴν πολλὴν καταλαβεῖν, οὕτω ὥστε τριταῖοι ἐκ Σπάρτης ἐγένοντο ἐν τῇ Ἀττικῇ. ὕστεροι δὲ ἀπικόμενοι Page 219 → τῆς συμβολῆς ἱμείροντο ὅμως θεήσασθαι τοὺς Μήδους· ἐλθόντες δὲ ἐς τὸν Μαραθῶνα ἐθεήσαντο. μετὰ δὲ αἰνέοντες Ἀθηναίους καὶ τὸ ἔργον αὐτῶν ἀπαλλάσσοντο ὀπίσω. [After the full moon, two thousand Lacedaemonians came to Athens. They had so much eagerness to reach [Athens] that on the third day [after leaving] Sparta they were in Attica. But although they arrived too late for the battle, they still wanted to gaze at the Medes. And [so] they went to Marathon and gazed at [the dead]. And afterwards, while praising the Athenians and their achievement, they went back home.] (6.120) In this passage, three words stand out. The first, which occurs twice in 6.120, is θεᾶσθαι. The Lacedaemonians desire “to gaze (in wonder) at” (θεήσασθαι) the Persian corpses lying on the battlefield at Marathon, and they do so (ἐθεήσαντο). They react to the Persian corpses at Marathon just as Xerxes wants his sailors to react to the Greek and Persian corpses at Thermopylae: the Spartans look upon the Persian corpses as θώματα. The second key word in 6.120 is αἰνέοντες, “praising.” This is another thing that Xerxes wants from his sailors in 8.24–25, (ἔπ)αινος, “praise,” both of himself and of his own army's “achievement” in the fighting at Thermopylae. The sailors, however, since they are not convinced by the account of the battle that Xerxes' spectacle implies in 8.24–25, apparently withold praise from their king. For his part, Herodotus not only witholds praise but even heaps ridicule on Xerxes, calling his spectacle at Thermopylae “laughable” (8.25.2). The third significant word in 6.120 is tied to both the first and the second, ἔργον, “achievement.” Herodotus indicates the importance of this word for the Histories as a whole with the phrase “great and wondrous achievements” (ἔργα μεγάλα τε καὶ θωμαστά) in the proem. For Herodotus, as Henry Immerwahr (1960) explains, ἔργον refers broadly to an “achievement” or “work” both abstract (= “deed”) and concrete (= “monument”).62 Immerwahr further states (269): In Herodotus, ergon has a tendency to mean the finished product of an activity. The effects of erga are not so much their historical consequences, but reputation, honors, or gifts accruing to the author of the work… Page 220 →

In 6.120, it is the ἔργον that the Athenians achieved at Marathon that elicits the Lacedaemonians' praise (αἰνέοντες). The Athenians' ergon at Marathon would long be a source of honor for them and would help establish the reputation of Athens in the fifth century BCE as a polis to be reckoned with.63 In 8.24–25, Xerxes rearranges the corpses on the battlefield at Thermopylae in the hope that his sailors will view the victory that he and the Persian army won there as an ergon. Moreover, Xerxes hopes that through his achievement of an ergon at Thermopylae, he will win honor and an increased reputation as king. A connection also exists in 6.120 between ἔργον and θεᾶσθαι because in the Histories ἔργα (“achievements”) are frequently linked to θώματα (“wonders”).64 At Marathon, the result of the Athenians' ergon, their victory over the Persian invaders, is the thōma that is to be seen by the Lacedaemonians: the spectacle of the Persian corpses that lie on the battlefield. So, too, Xerxes' sailors at Thermopylae are meant—by Xerxes, at any rate—to view (theāsthai) the spectacle of the Persian and Greek corpses as a thōma. Given the unconvincing account of the Battle of Thermopylae that Xerxes' spectacle conveys, however, it is unlikely that either Xerxes' sailors or Herodotus himself actually would award Xerxes' version of the battle the title of ergon, at least not in the restricted Herodotean sense of “achievement worthy of praise or remembrance.” Perhaps, though, Herodotus could have considered Xerxes' spectacle at Thermopylae an ἔργον in the broader sense of “deed” or “action,” especially with the opposition of ἔργον to λόγος (“word/speech”) in mind. Although not as prominent a part of Herodotus' thought as it is of Thucydides', the contrast between ἔργον and λόγος (or a near equivalent, such as ἔπος) does occur several times in the Histories.65 For example, the supposed deserter Zopyrus promises both to punish Darius for mutilating him and to aid the Babylonians against the Persians (3.156.3). When Zopyrus seemingly leads the Babyonians to victory over a detachment of the Persian army, the Babylonians believe wholeheartedly that Zopyrus “is offering deeds similar to his words” (τοῖσι ἔπεσι τὰ ἔργα παρεχόμενον ὅμοια, 3.157.3). Ironically, Zopyrus' deeds are similar to his words in a way the Babylonians do not Page 221 → realize: Zopyrus' deeds and words are equally deceitful. Following the battle at Salamis, Xerxes orders Mardonius “to do deeds similar to his words” (ποιέειν τοῖσι λόγοισι τὰ ἔργα…ὅμοια, 8.107.1)—namely, to stay behind in Greece with a part of the Persian army and to subdue the Greeks in battle, as Mardonius himself proposed to Xerxes in 8.100.5. Mardonius does not defeat the Greeks at Plataea, however, and so is unable to match his deeds to his words. Similarly, Xerxes' ἔργον—that is, his arrangement of the corpses on the battlefield at Thermopylae in 8.24–25, cannot live up to the promises made by his λόγος—that is, the speech his herald delivers to the fleet (8.24.2). Ironically, the proud boast of the herald, that the sailors would see at Thermopylae “how [Xerxes] fights” (ὅκως μάχεται), is realized in a way that Xerxes does not expect. The success of Xerxes' spectacle depends largely on the plausibility of the corpses' arrangement. The sailors, however, remain utterly unconvinced. It seems most unlikely to them that whereas the Persians, their corpses lying scattered, apparently died at numerous spots on the battlefield, the Greeks somehow managed to fall dead in one large pile. The implausibility of Xerxes' ergon immediately renders his logos suspect to the sailors. Xerxes' sailors do indeed see “how [their King] fights” at Thermopylae: Xerxes fights so ineffectually that he feels compelled to hide his losses in an effort to misrepresent the true course of the battle.

The Greek “Victory” at Thermopylae Up to this point, we have let Herodotus persuade us that the account of Thermopylae that he gives as narrator in 7.175–77, 198–233 is the “true” version of the battle, whereas the account of Thermopylae that Xerxes attempts to construct with his arrangement of the corpses (8.24–25) is the distorted, “untrue” version. It is time to consider an underlying reason why Herodotus is intent on persuading us of this. When scholars study the episode involving Xerxes' spectacle at Thermopylae, they tend to focus on its historicity—that is, whether the episode actually took place. Most scholars argue that the episode is unhistorical.66 For our purposes, what is more important Page 222 → than whether Xerxes' spectacle actually occurred is whether Herodotus believed that it occurred. And in his narration of 8.24–25, Herodotus shows no signs of doubting the episode's historicity. Thus, when Herodotus included in his Histories the story about Xerxes' spectacle at Thermopylae, he believed that the spectacle constituted a rival account that conflicted with his own narrative of the battle. As such, he seeks to

discredit Xerxes' account, saying that the Persian sailors were not at all deceived by this “laughable” version of Thermopylae. Behind Herodotus' confident laughter, however, we can detect uneasiness with Xerxes' version. Herodotus is troubled by the very purpose of Xerxes' spectacle. As we have seen, with the language he uses to describe the episode, Herodotus depicts Xerxes as primarily interested in self-aggrandizement when he invites his sailors to gaze at the fallen on the battlefield. Herodotus plays down, however, the more general purpose of the spectacle, which was to magnify the Persian victory. The thing that most threatens Herodotus about the episode is the way that Xerxes goes about magnifying the victory: Xerxes tries to convince the sailors that few Persians had been killed in the fighting. A cornerstone of Herodotus' own account of Thermopylae (7.175–77, 198–233), however, is the large number of Persians who died at the hands of the Greeks.67 In the first assault on the Greek defenders at Thermopylae, says Herodotus, “many” (πολλοί) Medes fell (7.210.2). This incident occasions one of Herodotus' most famous pronouncements. δῆλον δ’ ἐποίευν παντί τεῳ καὶ οὐκ ἥκιστα αὐτῷ βασιλέϊ ὅτι πολλοὶ μὲν ἄνθρωποι εἶεν, ὀλίγοι δὲ ἄνδρες. [[The Medes] made it clear to everyone and not least to the King himself that while there were many people [in the army], there were few men.] (7.210.2) The contrast in this passage between “many” (πολλοί) and “few” (ὀλίγοι) could be applied to Herodotus' entire narrative of the fighting at Thermopylae. When the Persians themselves take up the attack on the Greeks at Page 223 → Thermopylae in 7.211, they fare no better than the Medes. Herodotus says that Persians “countless in number” (πλήθεϊ ἀναριθμήτους) are tricked by the Lacedaemonians' feigned retreats and are slaughtered by the rallying Lacedaemonians; only a “few” (ὀλίγοι) of the Lacedaemonians die in the process (7.211.3). On the next day, Xerxes' soldiers think wrongly that things will go differently in battle, “since [the Greeks] are few” (ἅτε…ὀλίγων ἐόντων) and, the Persians “expect” (ἐλπίσαντες), are battered from the previous day's fighting (7.212.1). We saw earlier the force that the verb ἐλπίζειν normally carries in the Histories—that is, to indicate a mistaken expectation of some sort. Here, elpizein indicates the Persians' mistaken expectation regarding the fighting capabilities of the “few” Greeks. Before the Greeks who are holding the pass are surrounded, on the third and last day, by the Persians coming round the mountain path, “many” (πλήθεϊ πολλοί) foreigners are killed by the furious Greek onslaught; in the confusion and disorder “many” (πολλοί) of the foreigners fall into the sea, says Herodotus, “while still more by far” (πολλῷ δ’ ἔτι πλεῦνες) are trampled to death by one another (7.223.3). Herodotus adds that “many famous” (πολλοὶ καὶ ὀνομαστοί, 7.224.2) Persians died in the fighting at Thermopylae, including two sons of Darius. As we have seen, Herodotus reports in 8.24.1 that the Persian losses at Thermopylae amounted to 20,000 men, as opposed to 4,000 Greek casualties (8.25.2). According to Herodotus' presentation, the Battle of Thermopylae is almost a victory for the Greeks—so heroically do the Greeks fight, and so many Persians do they kill.68 By conceiving of the battle in this way, Herodotus participates in the construction of the “Thermopylae Legend,” which began to be formed soon after the Persian War ended by the accretion of mythical elements to the historical core of the battle's story.69 As the legend developed, the outcome of the battle came to be seen as essentially preordained, with Leonidas and the Greeks who died at Thermopylae having sacrificed themselves to ensure the eventual triumph of the Greeks in the war as a whole.70 However much Greeks, including Herodotus, looking Page 224 → back at Thermopylae with the knowledge of how the war with the Persians had turned out, wanted to fit Thermopylae into the overall scheme of Greek victory, the fact remained that Thermopylae, in the actual course of the war, had been a demoralizing defeat for the Greeks. Indeed, only the later victories at Salamis, Plataea, and Mycale prevented the defeat at Thermopylae from being a potentially crushing one for the Greek cause. By promoting a positive view of Thermopylae that reflects the legend, Herodotus glosses over the disquieting fact that the Greeks had actually lost the battle. In his narrative of Thermopylae (7.175–77, 198–233), Herodotus plays a sleight of hand game with readers, focusing their attention not on the outcome of the battle, but on how many Persians the Greeks manage to kill during the fighting. Although the Persians eventually take the pass at

Thermopylae, they do so, according to Herodotus, only through the treachery of a Greek guide and through the sheer weight of their numbers. With his spectacle involving the corpses at Thermopylae (8.24–25), Xerxes, in turn, seeks to turn a rather lackluster and protracted victory on the part of the Persians into a glorious one. According to Xerxes' arrangement of the corpses, the Persians were such good soldiers—and, by implication, their king such a good leader—that they lost only one man (= 1,000) in the fighting to every four of the Greeks (= 4,000).

Conclusion Each version of Thermopylae, then, whether Herodotus' (7.175–77, 198–233) or Xerxes' (8.24–25), is misleading and tendentious. The two versions, in addition, are wholly incompatible with one another. Therefore, in order to preserve the integrity of his own narrative of Thermopylae, Herodotus strives to discount Xerxes' account in the strongest possible terms. Herodotus tries to project his confidence in the superiority of his own inquiry to that of Xerxes by dismissing Xerxes' attempted deception of his sailors as “laughable” (γελοῖον, 8.25.2). At the same time, however, Herodotus hopes that readers will not detect his nervousness at the fundamental similarity of purpose—playing up the Persian victory or playing down the Greek defeat—behind the two respective accounts of the Battle of Thermopylae. 1. Cf. Cooper 2002, 2794 [2.68.33.4], who argues that τὰ περὶ τοὺς νεκρούς in 8.24.1 “may be a euphemistic equivalent of τοὺς νεκρούς the corpses, or it may be an allusive way of saying something like τὰ νομιζόμενα εἰς τοὺς νεκρούς the customary [funeral observances] for the corpses.” 2. The expression “throwing on leaves and heaping up earth” (φυλλάδα τε ἐπιβαλὼν καὶ γῆν ἐπαμησάμενος, 8.24.1) is likely a hysteron proteron: Xerxes first has the trenches filled with earth, then has leaves placed on top to conceal the newly turned earth. 3. At 8.15.1, Herodotus says that the sea battle at Artemisium was fought over the same three days as the land battle at Thermopylae. Herodotus later reports (8.23) that at dawn on the day after the battle at Artemisium, the Persian fleet sailed to Artemisium, waited there until midday, then sailed to Histiaea, which the Persians then captured. “While [the sailors] were there [i.e., Histiaea]” (ἐνθαῦτα…τούτων ἐόντων, 8.24.1), says Herodotus, Xerxes' herald came and issued his invitation to view the spectacle at Thermopylae. It is unclear whether the herald did this on the same day that the fleet reached and took Histiaea. If so, then the soonest the sailors could have visited Thermopylae would have been the next day—that is, two days after the final day of the battles both at Artemisium and at Thermopylae. This is because Herodotus implies (8.25.3) that the sailors spent an entire day at Thermopylae viewing the battlefield; see Masaracchia 1996, 169. Sacks 1976, 243 flatly states that the Persians visited the battlefield at Thermopylae two days after the completion of the battle. 4. On a combination such as ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι, Cooper 1998, 904 [57.1.0] notes: “When a substantive is used as an attribute of another substantive, the two go together to form a virtual compound. They are one idea expressed by two substantives.” On the use of ἀνήρ in such expressions, he further observes ([57.1.1]): “The tone with ἀνήρ is usually respectful…it comes close in this combination to constituting a title.” 5. Dickey 1996, 301 identifies twenty (cf. 182, “nineteen”) occurrences of the phrase ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι in Greek literature (from Herodotus to Lucian); incidentally, the phrase (in the form ἄνδρες ξύμμαχοι) occurs three times in Thucydides (1.120.1, 1.124.2, 5.9.9), just as it does in Herodotus. 6. An exception is 6.130.1, in which Cleisthenes, tyrant of Sicyon, uses ἄνδρες plus substantive more to conciliate than to persuade, when he is ready to announce whom he has chosen to marry his daughter. In addition, Gelon, tyrant of Syracuse, uses ἄνδρες plus substantive in a mock persuasive context: he speciously offers his aid to the Greek cause against the Persians in return for command of all or part of the Greek military force. Cf. the similar offer made by the Argives (7.148.4, 7.150.5). 7. Cf. Macan 1908b, 389, who says that in 8.24.2 “σύμμαχοι is polite.” 8. Other speeches that are introduced by ἄνδρες plus a substantive and that are also deceptive in some way are 4.139.2 (ἄνδρες Σκύθαι), 4.158.3 (ἄνδρες Ἕλληνες), 5.98.2 (ἄνδρες Παίονες), 8.22.1 (ἄνδρες Ἴωνες), 9.89.3 (ἄνδρες Ἴωνες), and 9.98.3 (ἄνδρες Θεσσαλοί).

9. Lateiner 1990, 233 speaks of Xerxes' “Greek sailors,” his “Greek naval allies,” and the “perceptive Greeks” who saw through Xerxes' ruse, while Shimron 1989, 66 speaks of “Xerxes' clumsy attempt to deceive his Greek subjects.” According to Masaracchia 1996, 169, the words ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι in 8.24.2 do not refer to all the sailors, “but only to the allies, that is, to the Greeks” (ma solo agli alleati, cioè ai greci). Contra Vannicelli 2007, 320, who refers to “the visit to the battlefield by the members of the Persian fleet (among whom were most likely a large number of Greeks).” 10. 3.37.1 (Πέρσας τε καὶ τοὺς συμμάχους), 5.32 (Περσέων τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων), 7.99.3 (πάντων…τῶν συμμάχων), 8.68γ (συμμάχων), 8.69.1 (πάντων τῶν συμμάχων), 8.89.1 (Περσέων καὶ Μήδων καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων), 8.113.3 (τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων), 9.67 (οἱ Πέρσαι καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων ὁ πᾶς ὅμιλος), 9.115 (Πέρσαι τε καὶ τῶν ἄλλων συμμάχων συχνὸς ὅμιλος). In addition, the possibility of the Athenians' medizing and becoming Persian σύμμαχοι (or forming an “alliance” [συμμαχίη] with Persia) is repeatedly alluded to: 5.73.2, 9.72α1, 9.9.2, 9.11.2; (συμμαχίη) 5.73.1, 5.73.2, 5.73.3. That the Persians have “allies” seems somewhat at odds with the recurring notion in the Histories (e.g., 7.39.1, 9.48.2), as well as in other Greek sources, that all Persian subjects are the King's “slaves” (δοῦλοι). On the latter topic, see Cook 1983, 132; Keaveney 1996, 38–48; Briant 2002, 302, 324–25, 327, 388, 491, 508; cf. 105n.1. 11. As a rule, Herodotus refers to the Ionians specifically as σύμμαχοι only when they are (or will soon be) free: before Croesus adds the Ionians to the Lydian Empire (1.22.4), during the Ionian Revolt (5.99.1, 5.103.2, 5.120, 6.15.2 [bis]), and just prior to the battle at Mycale, when the Greeks are on the verge of freeing Ionia from Persian rule (9.91.2; cf. συμμαχίη, 9.92). The related words συμμαχίη, συμμαχεῖν (“be an ally”), and συμμαχικόν (“body of allies”) also occur in reference to the Ionians during their revolt: συμμαχίη, 5.38.2, 5.103.1, 6.13.1; συμμαχεῖν, 5.103.2; συμμαχικόν, 6.9.3. On the dating of the Ionian Revolt, see chapter 3, 105n.1. 12. Cf. 9.67, in which Herodotus singles out the Thebans for discussion out of “all the rest of the Greeks who were on the King's side” (τῶν…ἄλλων Ἑλλήνων τῶν μετὰ βασιλέος). 8.19.1 is exceptional because it is the only time that the Ionians are referred to specifically as Persian “allies”: Themistocles, for apparent rhetorical effect, calls the Ionians and Carians “the best of the King's allies” (τῶν βασιλέος συμμάχων…τοὺς ἀρίστους). Themistocles' sentiment here is ironic given Herodotus' ambivalent view of the Ionians overall. On Herodotus' portrayal of the Ionians, see Immerwahr 1966, 230–33; Munson 2007. 13. At 7.185.1, Herodotus adds to the Persian fleet 120 more ships from the Greeks in Thrace and the islands nearby. Burn 1984, 330–32 cautions that the numbers Herodotus ascribes to the individual contingents of the Persian fleet probably represent not the actual strength of those contingents, but their potential strength—that is, if every state allied to the Persians had contributed the maximum number of ships possible. 14. Powell 1938, s.v. ἐπίσταμαι 3. “of mistaken knowledge, suppose.” 15. In 8.25.1, Macan 1908b, 389 either deletes καὶ Θεσπιέας altogether or places it after ὁρῶντες; Powell 1939, 87 suggests καὶ Θεσπιέας, thus making it directly correlative with καὶ τοὺς εἵλωτας. Vannicelli 2007 (see further chapter 4, 178) argues, however, that in his narrative of Thermopylae, Herodotus' stress on the important contribution that the Thespians play in the battle—even going so far as having the Persian sailors in 8.25.1 identify the Greek corpses as Lacedaemonians and Thespians, rather than just as Lacedaemonians—is a deliberate attempt on Herodotus' part to counteract the “Spartanocentric” tradition concerning Thermopylae; this tradition downplayed the contributions made by states other than Sparta, such as Thespis. 16. Macan 1908b, 389 finds it “strange” that “the Greeks in the king's navy” could not tell the Lacedaemonian, Thespian, and Helotic corpses apart. 17. According to Hanson 2000, 204, “[s]hields, greaves, helmets, spears, swords, and breastplates could be sold on the open market or, if in good condition, reemployed by any of the victors whose own equipment was either damaged or inferior.” The latter option may have benefited especially the Greeks who formed part of the Persian army, as most non-Greeks were neither outfitted nor trained as hoplites (cf. 9.62.3, 63.2; see further chapter 3, 115–17). 18. After discussing scholars' suggestions for dates for the Battle of Thermopylae—ranging from July to October—Sacks 1976, 243–45 proposes, based on a close reading of Herodotus' text, September 19 as the date on which the battle ended. Cartledge 2006, 142, however, opts for a date of August 17.

19. Most scholars (e.g., Macan 1908b, 388; Cook 1983, 120; Burn 1984, 424) think that 20,000 Persian dead is too high for Thermopylae, but Lazenby 1993, 148 allows that the number “is not impossible.” 20. Both Stein 1962b, 19 and Legrand 1953, 22 think something is missing in the Greek text of 8.25.2; both scholars suggest that the participle κείμενοι (“lying”), which describes the Persian corpses, needs some word/s to qualify it (e.g., “lying scattered”) in order for κείμενοι to be fully coordinate with ἁλέες συγκεκομισμένοι (“gathered together”), which describes the Greek corpses. 21. Stein 1962b, 19; How and Wells 1928b, 241; Legrand 1953, 22. 22. Among the distinctive gear that Xerxes would have stripped from the corpses were the characteristic red cloaks that were part of Spartan military dress. Hodkinson 2000, 224 writes: “…all of [Sparta's] hoplites, regardless of rank, wore a standard crimson uniform, the phoinikis, augmented by their long hair specially combed and garlanded on occasion of battle.” On the Spartans' red cloaks, see further Powell 1989b, 179; Hodkinson 233n.29–30. 23. On the Spartans' custom of wearing the hair long, see David 1992; Dillery 1996, 230–34; Hodkinson 2000, 226. On the Spartans' hair, see further chapter 2, 75–77, 82. 24. It was apparently customary, as well, for some Persians to have long hair. Herodotus relates an oracle given to the Milesians which refers to “long-haired men” (κομήταις, 6.19.2), and he provides the gloss that these are “Persians, who are long-haired” (τῶν Περσέων ἐόντων κομητέων, 6.19.3). On the long-haired Persians in 6.19, see Nenci 1998, 184. 25. On the status of Helots in Spartan society, see Ducat 1990; Birgalias 2002; Luraghi 2002; Luraghi and Alcock 2003. 26. 9.10.1 (7 Helots were “stationed” [τάξαντες] around each of the 5,000 Spartans); 9.28.2 (35,000 ψιλοί Helots “guarded” [ἐφύλασσαν] the 5,000 Spartans, seven “stationed” [τεταγμένοι] around each Spartan); 9.29.1–2 (of the 35,000 ψιλοί Helots, 7 were “stationed” [τεταγμένων] around each Spartan ὁπλίτης; each of these Helots “was prepared for war” [παρήρτητο ὡς ἐς πόλεμον]). Hunt 1997, 139 argues, however, that the Helots would not have been mere “ill-armed ψιλοί”; he says that “it is reasonable to assume that the Spartans arranged for the Helots to have effective weapons and protection, albeit less than a full hoplite panoply.” 27. See Hignett 1963, 330, 438; Hart 1993, 138; Lazenby 1993, 228; Green 1996, 266. For a similar view of the contribution of light-armed troops in general at Plataea, see Burn 1984, 521. Contra Hunt 1997; 1998, 33–39 (cf. Trittle 2006, 212–13), who, judging from Herodotus' presentation of the battle, maintains that the Helots played an active and valuable part in supporting the Spartan hoplite phalanx at Plataea. 28. At 7.202, Herodotus' list of Peloponnesian combatants at Thermopylae totals 3,100, among which were 300 Spartans. Yet at 7.228.1, Herodotus records an epigram that was inscribed at Thermopylae in which the number from the Peloponnese who fought in the battle is set at 4,000. Many scholars assume that the 900 Herodotus omits in 7.202 from the 4,000 were Helots. That would mean that were three Helots (= 900) to every one Spartan (= 300) at Thermopylae. See Burn 1984, 378–80; Pritchett 1985, 168–70; West 1985, 287–89; Hunt 1998, 31–33. 29. On 7.229.1, see chapter 2, 70. 30. Herodotus relates that when word reaches the Greeks at Thermopylae that the Persians will soon have them surrounded, either some contingents of the allied Greek force decide to depart (7.219.2) or Leonidas himself partially disbands the force (7.220–22), sending away all the allies except the 300 Spartans, 700 Thespians, and 400 Thebans. The Thebans, however, hand themselves over to the Persians at their first opportunity (7.233). On the Thebans' surrender to the Persians, see Hammond 1996, 19–20; Keaveney 1996, 38–48; Flower 1998, 371–72; Schellenberg 2009, 131–34. 31. If 900 Helots perished in addition to the 300 Spartans and 700 Thespians, the total number of Greek dead at Thermopylae would have been at least 1,900. But Herodotus says in 8.25.2 that Xerxes heaped up 4,000 Greek corpses. Even factoring in the Greeks from other city-states who fell in the fighting before Leonidas disbanded part of the force (7.222) and the few Thebans who were killed when they were in the act of surrendering (7.233.2), it seems impossible, given Herodotus' own narrative of the battle, to account for his total of 4,000 Greek dead. Most scholars conclude that Herodotus takes the epigram's (7.228.1) number for the Peloponnesians who fought at Thermopylae, 4,000, and mistakenly substitutes that for the number of Greeks who died there. For discussion of the numbers of Greeks who fought/died at Thermopylae, see Flower 1998; Vannicelli 2007.

32. Green 1996, 155, however, suggests that the Persian sailors, as they examined the corpses at Thermopylae, were “lectured by Xerxes' officers,” presumably, about—among other things—the identity of the Greek dead. 33. Cooper 1998, 1362 [69.35.1L, M] (cf. Bowie 2007, 116) writes: “In the other collocations where μέν without following adversative [e.g., δέ] is plainly emphatic, it fluctuates like δέ, between adversative and progressive force. So οὐ μὲν οὐδέ, which is confined to [Herodotus], may as a whole be either adversative [as in 8.25.2] or progressive.” Denniston 1950, 363, by contrast, remarks that the Herodotean combination οὐ μὲν οὐδέ is “certainly puzzling,” as it defies any uniform explanation in the various passages in which it occurs in the Histories. 34. Similarly, Stein 1962b, 19 translates οὐ μὲν οὐδέ in 8.25.2 as “however also not” (jedoch auch nicht). 35. Regardless of the exact translation of οὐδέ in 8.25.2, Herodotus makes the negative force of οὐδέ emphatic by using it in conjunction with another negative, οὐ (Cooper 1998, 1120 [67.11.0]). Cf. Cooper 2002, 2723 [2.67.11.3], where he terms such an emphatic combination of negatives “insistent anaphora.” 36. See chapter 2, 92 for further discussion of this passage. 37. Erbse 1992, 83 argues that Herodotus' narrative of Xerxes' spectacle at Thermopylae “is fashioned in such a way that in the Persian sailors' reaction criticism of their king's clumsy ineptitude comes to light” (…ist so gestaltet, daß in der Reaktion der persischen Matrosen die Kritik an der plumpen Ungeschicklichkeit ihres Königs zum Vorschein kommt). For a similar view, see Lateiner 1990, 233; van der Veen 1996, 116. 38. Asheri 2003, 224 posits “old Ionian sailors questioned by Herodotus” (vecchi marinai ioni interrogati da Erodoto) as the source for the story about Xerxes' spectacle in 8.24–25. 39. Cf. Green 1996, 155: “One wonders how [Herodotus] obtained his information: it is hard to imagine even the brashest Levantine sailor voicing open incredulity at the time.” 40. Shimron 1989: 66 states that “in his own name [emphasis added] Herodotus heaps ridicule on him [i.e., Xerxes] in 8.25.” 41. Chapter 3, 110–13. 42. Cf. Hohti 1976, 63: “The speech stresses the majestic aspect of the granting of permission…” 43. Throughout my discussion, I will use the Attic form θεᾶσθαι. Herodotus uses both θεᾶσθαι and the Ionic θηέεσθαι. See Powell 1938, s.v. θεῶμαι; McNeal 1986, 111, 112. 44. LSJ s.v. θεάομαι 1. “gaze at, behold, mostly with a sense of wonder.” Cf. Powell 1938, s.v. θεῶμαι: “see, watch from curiosity”; Chantraine 1970, s.v. θέα (on θεᾶσθαι): “look at/survey, with the two possible accessory nuances of admiration and of a spectacle that is offered” (“contempler avec les deux nuances accessories possibles de l'admiration et d'un spectacle qui est offert”). Occasionally in the Histories, the more neutral translations for theāsthai of Powell or of Chantraine may initially seem to work better, such as 8.116.2 (the sons of the king of the Bisaltae join Xerxes' campaign against Greece because they wish to “see the war” [θεήσασθαι τὸν πόλεμον]) and 6.67.2 (the deposed king Demaratus is “watching, looking at” [θεωμένου] the festival of the Gymnopaidiai in Sparta when Leotychides mocks him for no longer being king). In both cases, however, “wonder” may lie behind the seeing/watching. On 6.67.2, for example, Konstan 1987, 69n.21 argues for the significance of Herodotus' use here of θεᾶσθαι rather than of θεωρεῖν: the more common verb for a spectator at a festival. According to Parker's (1989, 149–50) reconstruction, moreover, the Gymnopaidiai would have been an impressive spectacle, surely deserving of “wonder.” 45. θεᾶσθαι occurs forty-nine times in Herodotus' text. By contrast, Thucydides uses theāsthai a mere three times (2.43.1, 5.7.4, 5.113). Both Bétant 1843, s.v. θεᾶσθαι and Mette 1961, 67 state that in Thucydides theāsthai simply means “look at” (Bétant: spectare; Mette: anschauen). In Thucydides 2.43.1, however, theāsthai could yield the translation “gaze at (in wonder)”: Pericles urges his fellow Athenians to “actually gaze (in wonder) at the power of the city every day and become her lovers” (τὴν τῆς πόλεως δύναμιν καθ’ ἡμέραν ἔργῳ θεωμένους καὶ ἐραστὰς γιγνομένους αὐτῆς). 46. On the concept of thōma in the Histories, see Barth 1968; Hunzinger 1995; Thomas 2000, 135–67; Munson 2001b, 232–65; Welser 2009, 372–82. Throughout my discussion, I will use the Herodotean form θῶμα instead of Attic θαῦμα. For the difficult orthography of θῶμα (or θωῦμα), see Chantraine 1970, s.v. θαῦμα Beekes 2010, s.v. θαῦμα. 47. Regarding the derivation of θεᾶσθαι and θῶμα, Chantraine 1970, 425 (cf. Beekes 2010, 535, 536) is more reserved: “A certain semantic link is perceived in Greek between θέα, etc., and θαῦμα, etc.” (Un

certain lien sémantique est senti en grec entre θέα, etc. et θαῦμα, etc.”). On the connection between theāsthai and “wonder” (thōma) in Homer, see Prier 1989, esp. 82, 85. On the same connection in Herodotus, see Mette 1961. Mette argues (65) that in the Histories “‘looking’ and ‘being amazed’ are frequently, as in old epic, only different aspects of the same event” (‘Schauen’ und ‘Staunen’ sind häufig, wie im alten Epos, nur verschiedene Aspekte desselben Vorganges.). He further observes (66) that “in numerous cases [in the Histories] the verb θεάομαι serves for the expression of an astonished, admiring gaze” (…dient das Verbum θεάομαι in zahlreichen Fällen zum Ausdruck eines staunenden, bewundernden Anschauens.). 48. In 7.128.2, Herodotus says that when Xerxes “gazed at” (ἐθεήσατο) the mouth of the river Peneus, “he was held in great wonder” (ἐν θώματι μεγάλῳ ἐνέσχετο). In 7.208.3, when the Persian horseman sent by Xerxes to spy out the Greek position at Thermopylae “beheld” the Lacedaemonians exercising and combing their hair, “he was amazed” (θεώμενος ἐθώμαζε); see further chapter 2, 75–77. The concatenation of θεᾶσθαι-θῶμα-(ἀπο)θωμάζειν (“be amazed”) in 1.68.1–2, when the Spartan Lichas “gazes at” a blacksmith at work in Tegea, is particularly striking: ἐθηεῖτο, θώματι, 1.68.1; ἀποθωμάζοντα, ἐθώμαζες, θῶμα, 1.68.2; cf. Welser 2009, 378n.56. 49. Herodotus' discussion of the Egyptian Labyrinth represents another example of his use of theāsthai and thōma in connection with one another: the monument that Herodotus and his group “gaze at” (θεησάμενοι, 2.148.5) is decidedly a “wonder” (θῶμα, 2.148.6) in Herodotus' opinion. On Herodotus' use of theāsthai in connection with thōma in 2.148, see Vernant 1987, 81; cf. Konstan 1987, 69n.21. On the Egyptian Labyrinth as a “wonder,” see Welser 2009, 375–76, and n.50; Purves 2010, 148. On the plural number in Herodotus' description of the Egyptian Labyrinth, see Purves 147. 50. Cf. Montiglio 2005, 132: “theāsthai is a self-congratulatory activity that reassures the spectator of his greatness by a review of his goods.” 51. Cf. Candaules' use of theāsthai (1.8.2, 8.3, 9.2, 10.1, 11.3), when he invites Gyges to “gaze at” the naked body of his wife, or Croesus' use of the verb (1.30.2, 86.5), when he invites Solon to “gaze at” the storerooms of his wealth; on 1.30.2, see further chapter 1, 51–52. On theāsthai in connection with Candaules and Croesus, see Branscome 2013. The king of the Ethiopians and Xerxes himself both use theāsthai in an attempt to overawe potential military opponents, the former trying to impress the Fish Eaters (3.23.4 bis, 3.24.1, 3.25.1) and Cambyses, the latter the Greeks (7.146.3, 7.148.1). Similarly, Oroetes—the only non-king to invite someone to “gaze at” his possessions—employs theāsthai to convince Maeandrius (3.123.2) and Polycrates that he has sufficient wealth to finance Polycrates' planned conquest of Ionia and the islands. 52. Cf. Immerwahr 1966, 182: “Of all the Oriental kings, Xerxes is the one who most wants to see and supervise everything for himself.” 53. The nine times Xerxes “gazes at” (theāsthai) his army, navy, or a combination of the two are 7.44 bis, 7.56.1, 7.100.1, 7.100.3, 7.212.1, 8.69.2, 8.86, and 8.88.2. In 8.86, each of Xerxes' sailors at Salamis only imagines that the King “gazes at” him fighting, a perception that spurs the sailors, says Herodotus, to fight better than they did at Artemisium. Other than his troops, Xerxes “beholds” both the citadel at Troy (7.43.1 bis) and the Peneus River (7.128.1, 7.128.2, 7.130.3). Darius similarly “beholds” the Pontus (4.85.1, 4.87.1) and the Bosporus (4.87.1). On Xerxes' and Darius' investigations of bodies of water, see Christ 1994, 178–80. 54. Konstan 1987, 63 maintains that “[t]he verb that specifically captures this disposition to gaze upon the outward signs of one's substance or situation is theaomai.” 55. Cf. Grethlein 2009, who connects Xerxes' gazing with “Xerxes' historicizing attitude towards the present” (212): “Xerxes' gaze is carried by the desire to freeze the present, give it the final status of the past, and thus deprive it of all the insecurity that threatens human life” (211). 56. On 7.101–105, see chapter 2, 55–75. 57. Cf. Grethlein 2009, 213: “With his manipulation [involving the arrangement of the corpses in 8.24–25], Xerxes retrospectively transforms the battle at Thermopylae into an act of great bravery.” 58. Immerwahr 1966, 177n.86 argues that in 8.24.2 Xerxes' pride as king is evoked by ὑπερβαλέεσθαι. 59. Cf. Myres 1949, 46; Asheri 2007a, 91. Powell's 1938, s.v. division of ἐλπίζειν into two categories: (1) “of present or past, suppose, implying error” (10 examples); and (2) “of future, expect” (29 examples), therefore, is misleading. The three exceptions to ἐλπίζειν's indicating a mistaken belief/expectation are

6.29.1, 7.168.3, and 8.60γ. In both 6.29.1 and 7.168.3, Herodotus expressly states that the expectations in question would have been realized, if only events had turned out differently. 8.60γ is the only passage in which what someone “expects” (ἐλπίζειν) to happen actually happens: Themistocles says that if, as he expects, the Greeks win at Salamis, the Persians will not attack the Isthmus and will advance no farther than Attica. Cf. Welser 2010, who argues that Herodotus similarly uses ὡς, with the future participle to express unfulfilled expectations or intentions. That Thucydides' general use of ἐλπίζειν differs from that of Herodotus is emphatically demonstrated in the very first sentence of his History (1.1), when Thucydides claims as narrator that he “expected that [the Peloponnesian War] would be great and more worthy of account than the [wars] that happened before” (ἐλπίσας μέγαν τε ἔσεσθαι καὶ ἀξιολογώτατον τῶν προγεγενημένων). Thucydides is far from implying here that he was somehow mistaken in his expectations about the greatness of the Peloponnesian War. 60. Sancisi-Weerdenburg 2002 convincingly argues that the personalities Herodotus attributes to each of the Persian kings are Greek inventions, resulting in part from a misunderstanding of the conventions of Persian kingship. 61. For the view that Xerxes' primary goal in repositioning the corpses at Thermopylae is to boost his sailors' morale, see Lateiner 1990, 233; Payen 1997, 262; Hunt 1998, 31. 62. Cf. Asheri 2007b, 8–9. 63. For the role that the victory at Marathon played in Athenian civic discourse, see chapter 4, passim. 64. Payen 1997, 117n.86. Examples of Herodotus' use of ἔργον in conjunction with θῶμα (or other θωμword) include 1.68.1–2, 1.93.1–2, 2.35.1, 2.148.1, 7.153.4. 65. See further chapter 4, 154–56, 160, 173, 188n.76. 66. Macan 1908b, 388: “…the anecdote seems to be part of the comic Nemesis which Greek anecdotemongers inflicted on Xerxes”; How and Wells 1928b, 241: “It is most unlikely that such an obvious fraud was ever attempted: the story is a Greek invention intended to bring Xerxes into contempt”; Asheri 2003, 224: “This macabre story has the appearance of a later invention of anti-Persian propaganda, in order to transform the defeat of Thermopylae into not only a moral, but also a military victory” (questa macabra storia ha l'apparenza di un'invenzione posteriore di propaganda antipersiana, allo scopo di trasformare la disfatta delle Termopili in vittoria non solo morale ma anche militare); Marincola 2003, 673n.10: “This story of Xerxes' ruse is very doubtful, and is probably meant rather to display the king's character.” Cf. Lateiner 1990, 233, who terms the episode an “improbable Greek tale;” Blösel 2001, 183n.16 calls it an “almost certainly fictional episode.” 67. On Herodotus' narrative of the Battle of Thermopylae, see Foster 2012, esp. 195–204. Foster (cf. Stadter 2012b, 46–48) analyzes Thucydides' Pylos narrative (4.3–41) in the light of both Homeric battle narratives and Herodotus' Thermopylae narrative. 68. For an opposing view on Herodotus' portrayal of Thermopylae—namely, that Herodotus condemns Spartan self-sacrifice in the battle—see Clarke 2002. Similarly, Stadter 2012a, 8–10 detects in Herodotus' Thermopylae narrative a criticism of Sparta's military strategies, especially Sparta's futile reliance on walls—whether at Thermopylae or at the Isthmus of Corinth—to hold back enemies. 69. On the importance of the Thermopylae Legend to Herodotus' view of the battle, see Immerwahr 1966, 261–62; Hignett 1963, 113–27, 371–78; Dillery 1996, 240–42. Criticising the argument that Herodotus was unduly influenced by the Thermopylae Legend, West 1985, 288 stresses instead Herodotus' own creative role in constructing his account of the battle. 70. The oracle reported by Herodotus in 7.220.4 supports this view of Thermopylae: at the war's beginning, the Spartans receive an oracle, saying that one of the two will fall to the Persians—either Sparta herself or one of her kings (i.e., Leonidas).

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Epilogue In order to highlight the distinctly Herodotean nature of his use of intratextual “rival inquirers” to further his authorial self-presentation, it is helpful to contrast briefly Herodotus' practice with that of his younger contemporary, Thucydides. Overall, Thucydides' authorial persona is much less agonistic than is Herodotus' persona.1 Thucydides presents himself to readers as an author much less concerned with having his authority undermined by competing authoritative voices than does Herodotus; as a result, Thucydides' exercise of control over his material seems rather effortless when contrasted with the struggles Herodotus undergoes to subdue his material to his will (as Dewald 1987 vividly imagines). A good example of the difference between Herodotus and Thucydides in this regard—and of their different use of intratextual characters in the service of their self-presentations—comes in their respective criticism of the epitaphic tradition of history. In chapter 4, we examined the complicated process by which Herodotus guides readers to question the Athenian speakers' epitaphic claim in 9.27.5 that the Athenians fought “alone” at Marathon and, at the same time, to favor his own anti-epitaphic account of Marathon (6.102–17). Thus, Herodotus criticizes an external source, the Page 226 → eptitaphic tradition, by contrasting his own views with those of an internal source, the Athenian speakers at Plataea in 9.27. Scholars have long noticed Thucydides' strong disapproval of the epitaphic tradition. Rosalind Thomas (1989, 228-29, 235, cf. 237), for instance, contrasts Lysias' treatment of the Corinthian defeat by an Athenian force made up of the old and young (2.49-53) with Thucydides' own treatment in the Pentecontaetia of the same event (1.105.3-106). In glowing terms, the Lysianic epitaphios (Lysias 2) describes how (c. 458 BCE) the Athenians, when the Corinthians invaded their land and took Geraneia near Megara, refused to recall their soldiers who were then on campaign. Instead, the Athenians sent off, under Myronides as general, men either past serviceable age or yet to reach it. This band routed the Corinthian invaders in Megarian territory and set up a victory monument (τρόπαιον) to commemorate their feat. Thucydides, however, tells a far less glorious story. According to the historian, the battle between the Corinthians and the young and old of Athens ended in a draw, although the Athenians fared slightly better in the conflict. Accordingly, the Athenians set up a tropaion and then retired to Megara. Several days later, the Corinthians returned to set up a rival tropaion, but the Athenians sallied out from Megara and routed them. Part of the Corinthian army in retreat was cut off and became trapped in a patch of land surrounded by a deep ditch. With no means of escape, the Corinthians were summarily stoned to death by the Athenians. It is hardly surprising that Lysias, and the epitaphic tradition behind his account, leaves out this last detail from a stirring tale that features the successful cooperation of two generations of Athenians—the one with “courage” (ἀρετή) gained by “experience” (ἐμπειρία); the other, with courage endowed by “nature” (φύσις) (2.51). Thomas maintains that Thucydides is consciously writing his account of the Corinthian “disaster” (πάθος, 1.106.2) at Megara in response to the whitewashed and selective epitaphic version of the event. Nicole Loraux (1986) comes to a similar conclusion regarding Thucydides' critical view of epitaphioi. She writes that “Thucydides challenges the topoi of the [funeral] oration, and in writing the history of the Peloponnesian War he no doubt intended to put an end to the narcissism of all previous Athenian histories of Athens” (290).2 In the Funeral Oration Page 227 → (2.34-47.1), Thucydides has Pericles eschew the epitaphic tradition of history altogether: Pericles says that he will “omit” (ἐάσω, 2.36.4) recounting the past military glories of Athens—glories that would surely have included the Athenians' fighting “alone” at Marathon.3 When characters in Thucydides' text do reference the epitaphic tradition, however, they do so to criticize that tradition in some way. Athenian ambassadors, who happen to be present in Sparta at a debate among Sparta's allies in 432 BCE about whether to declare war on Athens (1.67-88), try to impress upon the Lacedaemonians the greatness of Athens and the resulting seriousness of going to war with her. The Athenians mention their achievement at Marathon: “For we affirm that at Marathon we alone, before [other Greeks], risked battle with the barbarian)” (φαμὲν γὰρ Μαραθῶνί τε μόνοι προκινδυνεῦσαι τῷ βαρβάρῳ…, 1.73.4).4 And yet the Athenian ambassadors imply that Athenian epitaphic claims have grown unpleasant for others—and perhaps even for themselves—to hear; they admit that, although they must speak about events, including the Persian War, that the Lacedaemonians know well, “it will be

rather troublesome for us [to do so] since we are constantly bringing them up” (δι’ ὄχλου μᾶλλον ἔσται αἰεὶ προβαλλομένοις, 1.73.2). There are two later examples in Thucydides' History where Athenians even more emphatically reject the epitaphic tradition. In the Melian Dialogue (5.84-111), the Athenians say that they will not claim that “we rule justly because we overthrew the Mede” (δικαίως τὸν Μῆδον καταλύσαντες ἄρχομεν, 5.89.1). Similarly, in his speech to the assembly at Camarina (6.81-87), the Athenian Euphemus says that he will not claim that “we naturally rule because we alone took down the barbarian” (τὸν βάρβαρον μόνοι κατελόντες εἰκότως ἄρχομεν, 6.83.2). As the Peloponnesian War dragged on, the Athenians—like Thucydides himself—increasingly seem to lose faith in the value of tired epitaphic claims.5 Thus, Thucydides' own use of intratextual characters as a means of questioning the value of the epitaphic tradition of history differs sharply from Page 228 → Herodotus' own use of such characters in the furtherance of his authorial self-presentation. Thucydides criticizes an external source, the epitaphic tradition, by having multiple internal sources, the Athenians in 1.73, 5.89, and 6.83 (and, less directly, Pericles in 2.36.4), criticize that external source for him. Far from these intratextual characters being rival inquirers for Thucydides, they instead act as allies for Thucydides in arguing against the epitaphic tradition. 1. See Moles 1993; Dewald 1999; Rood 2006b. 2. Cf. Strasburger 2009, who argues that speakers in Thucydides largely avoid familiar epitaphic claims, especially claims regarding the Athenians' roles as liberators and defenders of their fellow Greeks; instead, Thucydidean speakers—both Athenian and non-Athenian—highlight Athens' role as a tyrant city, bent on or driven to enslaving Greece. According to Flory 1990, moreover, Thucydides is referring (with the phrase τὸ μυθῶδες) to the type of pleasure-giving patriotic/chauvinistic rhetoric that characterizes Athenian funeral orations, when Thucydides cautions that readers may find his work less pleasurable precisely because it omits τὸ μυθῶδες (1.22.4, cf. 1.21.1). 3. See further chapter 4, 171–72. 4. Thucydides combines in the Athenians' declaration about Marathon in 1.73.4 the epitaphic concerns of identifying Athens as “first” (προ-) and as “only” (μόνοι). On these concerns in epitaphioi, see further chapter 4, 172. 5. Contra Rood 1999, 145, who argues that, “while the refusal of later speakers to speak of Athenian achievements in the Persian Wars is pointed, it is part of another story: not (as often supposed) a story about the decline of moral appeals in wartime, but a story about how different situations call for different rhetoric.”

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General Index Achaemenes, 86, 91–94, 96, 209–10 Adrastus, 48 Adurmaxidai, 123 Aeaces, 162 Aeschines, 166 Africa, 110 agora, Athenian, 161, 169 agora, Plataean, 164 Alexander, 181 altar (of the twelve gods), 161 Amasis, 48n.53, 162n.13 Amazons, 157, 171–72, 189. See funeral orations/epitaphioi Anacreontic vases, 132n.61 analepsis, 25–26, 173. See narratology (narrator/narratee) Anaximander, 108–11 Andros, 122n.39 Apollo, 42, 51 Apollodorus (mythographer), 183 Apollodorus (son of Pasion), 166, 169 Apries, 162n.13 Araxes (river), 141n.94 Arcadia/Arcadians, 126, 155, 159–60 Argo, 184 Argonauts, 184 Argos/Argives, 10–11, 25, 40–43, 126, 159, 181, 183, 196n.6 Arion, 17, 43, 188n.78 Aristagoras, 23, 27–29, 105–50, 159, 193

Aristides, 175–77 Aristion, 166 Aristodemus, 70–71 Aristophanes, 29n.9, 111n.15, 115, 129n.56, 137–38n.83 Aristotle, 11n.19 Armenia/Armenians, 122, 125, 128 Artabanus, 87n.76, 118n.32, 173–74 Artaphrenes, 122n.39, 173 Artemisia, 17 Artemisium, Battle of, 167–68, 194n.3, 215n.53 Asbustai, 123 Asia/Asians, 22, 27–28, 105–6, 110–15, 118, 124, 126, 127n.52, 128nn.53–54, 130, 133–34, 138–39, 144n.104, 145, 148, 159, 172, 181, 185, 198, 211 Asia Minor, 145 Astyages, 143n.100 Athena, 162n.13 Page 248 → Athens/Athenians, 9–10, 19–20, 22–23, 31–32, 34–38, 40, 51, 98–102, 117, 118n.30, 129, 131–33, 137, 150–79, 187–91, 196, 197n.10, 213n.44, 218–20, 225–28 Attica, 98, 100, 157, 173, 217n.59 Atys, 48 Babylon/Babylonians, 126n.46, 220 Babylonian map, 112n.20 bias, 8–9 Bisaltae, 213n.44 Black Sea, 8 Boeotia/Boeotians, 161, 163n.16, 168 Bosporus, 215n.53 bronze/brazen, 105, 108–9, 110n.14, 125–26, 127n.49. See metals (precious)/money Camarina, 227

Cambyses, 18, 61n.20, 119, 215n.51 Candaules, 188n.78, 215n.51 Cappadocia/Cappadocians, 122–23, 128, 140 Carians, 197n.12 Caunians, 63n.25 Chalcis, 168 Chilon, 90 Choaspes (river), 122 Colchis, 181 Cicero, 11–12 Cilicia/Cilicians, 122–23, 125, 128 Cissia, 122, 128 Cleisthenes (tyrant of Sicyon), 196n.6 Cleobis and Biton, 21, 25–26, 31n.12, 33n.21, 36, 39–43, 45–47, 49n.56, 53 Cleomenes, 23, 27–29, 105–50, 159, 161, 193 cloaks, red (of Spartans), 202n.22 compulsion, 67–68 Constantine, 37n.33 Constitutional Debate (3.80–83), 65n.31, 74n.56, 84, 95n.88, 174 Corinth/Corinthians, 19, 34, 172, 226 Crete/Cretans, 184 Croesus, 21–22, 24–53, 54, 72n.50, 124n.42, 126n.48, 142n.97, 151, 179, 186, 188–90, 193, 197n.11, 215n.51 Cyclades/Cycladic, 122n.39, 198 Cydippe, 41n.40 Cylon, 31–34 Cyprus/Cyprians, 122, 128, 162n.13 Cypselids, 20 Cypselus, 19 Cyrene, 123

Cyrus, 49, 72n.50, 141n.94, 142n.97, 143n.100, 162n.13 Cythera, 90–92, 96 Darius, 18, 54n.1, 62n.24, 67, 84, 95n.86, 119, 162n.13, 173, 215n.53, 220, 223 Datis, 173 Decelea, 166 Delphi/Delphic oracle, 17, 37, 40, 42n.42, 43, 124n.42 Demaratus, 18n.43, 22, 54–106, 192–93, 210, 213n.44, 216 Demeter, 101–2 Demosthenes, 166, 172 Dicaeus, 22, 54, 97–104 Dionysius of Halicarnassus, 11n.19 Dorians, 60 Doriscus, 55, 68 dress (barbarian), 125, 132n.61 dress/equipment, military (barbarian), 114–19, 125n.44, 130–33 dress/equipment, military (Greek), 116–17, 200–206 Ecbatana, 126n.46 Echemus, 153–54, 156, 158 Egypt/Egyptians, 5–6, 8, 123, 162n.13, 183–84 electrum, 122n.27. See metals (precious)/money Eleusinian Mysteries, 54, 97–102 Eleusis, 31, 33, 33n.25, 37–39, 40, 98–102, 157 Elis, 142n.97 Ephesus, 108n.8, 128, 139 Page 249 → epichoric sources, 34–36 epitaphic tradition. See funeral orations/epitaphioi Eridanus (river), 13 Erythrae, 196

Ethiopia/Ethiopians, 119 Ethiopian king, 162n.13, 215n.51 ethnography/ethnology, 54–149 Euboea, 122n.39 Euphemus, 227 Europa, 181–84, 186, 189 Europe, 109–13, 211 Eurystheus, 153, 156, 171 Eurytus, 70, 204 Eusebius, 32n.20 fable, 31, 57–58n.7 Fish Eaters, 215n.51 flattery, 29–30 funeral orations/epitaphioi, 23, 151–52, 160, 166–78, 187, 190–91, 225–28 gazing, 212–20 Gelon, 190n.79, 196n.6 geography, 22, 105–49, 211 Geraneia, 226 Getae, 63n.25 Giligamai, 123 Glaucus, 20, 48n.54 gold, 122n.27, 125–26, 127n.49. See metals (precious)/money Gorgo, 120, 126 Greece/Greeks, 9–10, 18, 23, 55–56, 58–60, 62n.24, 64–65, 68, 75–76, 79–87, 90, 92–93, 96–97, 102, 117–19, 143n.100, 143n.103, 144n.104, 150–52, 154, 157, 162, 167, 171–74, 176–77, 179–81, 183–86, 188, 190, 192–94, 197–98, 203–7, 210, 212, 213n.44, 215n.51, 216–17, 221–24 guest/guest-friendship, 95–96, 120n.36, 136n.76 Gyges, 188n.78, 215n.51 Gymnopaidiai, 213n.44 Gyndes (river), 141n.94

hair (of Lacedaemonians/Spartans), 75–77, 81–82, 100–101, 202n.22, 203, 214n.48 Halicarnassus, 11n.19, 14n.29, 179 Halys River, 140 Harmodius and Aristogeiton, 35n.30 Harpagus, 143n.100 Hecataeus of Miletus, 5, 9n.15, 12, 109–12, 180, 182 Helen, 181–84, 185n.70, 186, 189 Hellenic (or Greek) League, 195–96 Helots, 199–200, 202–6 Hera, 25, 40–42, 183 Heracles, 153, 161, 162n.13 Heraclidae, 153, 156, 158, 171, 189. See funeral orations/epitaphioi Herodotus and Athenian democratic ideology, 71n.49 and audience/readers, 1–3, 6–11, 16–17, 21–22, 26–27, 30, 53, 76–78, 124, 126, 136, 140–42, 147, 150–52, 156, 160, 178–80, 182–85, 193, 198, 210, 224 authorial self-presentation, passim, 3–6 on continents, 112–13 date of Histories, 119n.33, 137n.83, 170 and demonstratives, 27, 102n.98, 129n.56 and direct/indirect discourse, 31, 53, 54n.1, 66, 133, 160 and genre, 11–16 on “hard” and “soft” peoples, 58, 111 on imperialism, 111 and inquiry, 11–16, 28, 53, 56, 87, 98, 135, 141–42, 146, 179–80, 224 and inscriptions, 8 and irony, 121, 147 literary nature of work, 136–37 as narrator, 3–5, 9n.16, 13, 14n.29, 15n.34, 16n.37, 17–20, 26, 31, 33–36, 40–41, 43, 47, 51, 52n.63, 53, 54n.1, 60, 66, 67n.37, 76, 77n.60, 78–79, 83, 87n.76, 94n.85, 95, 103n.99, 106, 115, 119, 127, 130–31, 133n.66, 147, 151, 156, 160, 167, 183, 193, 198, 217, 221 (see narratology [narrator/narratee]) Page 250 →

and past/history, 31–34, 185–86, 188n.78, 189 and polemic, 112–13, 193, 210–12 public readings of work, 65–66, 136–37 and “rival inquirers,” passim, 2–3, 16–21, 25–26, 28, 30–31, 34, 36, 41–44, 53–54, 56, 66–67, 87, 98, 106, 150–52, 191–92, 211–12, 222, 224–28 and sources/source citations, 7–8, 34–36, 41, 108n.3, 132n.62, 180, 211, 225–26 on space and time, 139–40 and superlatives, 124 and truth, 6–11, 28–30, 66–67, 124, 179, 182 (see truth/truthfulness) and wonder, 213–15, 219–20 (see gazing) Hipparchus, 35n.30 Hippias, 19, 35n.30, 196 Hippocratics/medical writers, 17, 58n.10, 65n.31, 87, 134 Histiaea, 193–94, 199 Histiaeus, 95n.86 Homer/Homeric, 5, 12–14, 57n.7, 136n.75, 190, 213n.47, 222n.67 Hyllus, 153, 156, 158 Hyperboreans, 112 Iakchos (god/cry), 99, 101 Iasos, 183 imperative (mood), 81–83, 91 Inachus, 183 India/Indians, 18, 63n.25, 124 Indus River, 18 Io, 181–84, 186, 189 Ionia/Ionians, 22, 27–28, 57n.6, 105, 111, 114, 119–23, 127–28, 134, 136, 138–39, 144n.105, 145, 197, 215n.51 Ionian Revolt, 27, 105, 118, 120–21, 130, 197 islands/islanders, Greek, 162n.13, 197, 198n.13, 215n.51 Istanbul, 37n.33 Isthmus (of Corinth), 91, 153, 217n.59, 223n.68

Jason, 184 Kerameikos, 38n.38 kings in Histories, 18–19, 74, 162, 214–16 krater (at Exampaeus), 7 Labyrinth, Egyptian, 214 Lacedaemon/Lacedaemonians, 19, 27–28, 59–65, 67–72, 75–86, 88–91, 93, 96–97, 100, 106, 108, 111, 114–17, 118n.32, 121, 124, 126, 135, 137, 138n.84, 139, 140n.91, 144, 150, 153–54, 158–61, 163–64, 175–77, 199–200, 202–3, 205–7, 214n.48, 218–20, 227 Laconia, 90 laconicity (of Spartans), 137–38 Lamian War, 187 laughter in Histories, 61, 65, 73–75, 77–78, 81, 83, 111, 113, 210–11, 219, 222 Leonidas, 178, 193, 201, 204, 205nn.30–31, 223, 223n.70 Leosthenes, 187 Leotychides, 20–21, 48n.54, 213n.44 Libya/Libyans, 112, 122–24, 162n.13 Lichas, 214n.48 logos/ergon antithesis, 154–56, 160, 173, 188n.76, 220–21 Lycurgus (orator), 69n.39 Lydia/Lydians, 41–42, 122–23, 125, 128, 140, 186 Lysias, 166–67, 172, 226 Maeandrius, 215n.51 map/maps, 22, 27, 105–49, 211 Marathon, Battle of, 22–23, 38, 117, 150–52, 156–57, 160–79, 183n.63, 187, 189–91, 218–20, 225, 227 Marathon, tombs at, 38, 163n.16 Mardonius, 57n.7, 92n.82, 116, 118n.32, 174, 197, 221 Matiene/Matienoi, 122, 128 Medea, 181–84, 186, 189 Mede/Medes, 98, 106, 115–18, 131, 222–23, 227 medism, 10, 197

Megara/Megarians, 33, 40, 99, 196, 226 Page 251 → Menelaus, 1, 184 Menestheus, 190n.79 Messenians, 126 metals (precious)/money, 122, 125–27 Methymna, 43 Miletus/Milesians, 5, 9n.15, 12, 108–10, 128, 130, 132, 140n.91, 141n.93, 159, 180, 203n.24 Minos, 185n.69 mules, 142n.97 Mycale, Battle of, 197n.11, 224 Myronides, 226 narratology (narrator/narratee), 4n.5, 25–27, 29, 53, 103n.99, 119–21, 150–51, 154, 164, 173, 193, 217n.59 Naxos, 122n.39 Nile flood, 143n.100 Odysseus, 5–8 Okeanos/River Ocean, 13, 111–12, 211 Olympic games, 31, 32n.20 oracles, 203n.24, 223n.70. See Delphi/Delphic oracle Oroetes, 215n.51 Otanes, 74n.56, 95n.88 Paeonians, 162n.13 Panathenaea, Great, 169–70 Pantites, 70–71 parasangs, Persian, 139–40 Parmenides, 28n.6 Paros, 122n.39 Pasargadae, 126n.46 Pausanius (Spartan general and regent), 164–65

Pausanius (travel writer), 38, 163n.16, 169 Peiren, 183 Peloponnese/Peloponnesians, 60, 90n.80, 91–92, 100–101, 126, 139n.87, 153, 156, 204n.28 Peloponnesian League, 195 Peloponnesian War, 90n.80, 217n.59, 226 Peneus River, 214n.48, 215n.53 Persephone, 101–2 Persepolis, 126n.46 Periander, 19 Pericles, 171n.35, 174n.45, 187, 213n.44, 227–28 periplous, 110, 128n.53 Persia/Persians, 5, 10, 23, 56, 60, 62–65, 68, 71, 84, 90, 92–93, 96–98, 100, 102–3, 105–6, 111, 114–17, 119–21, 122n.39, 124, 126n.47, 131, 142n.97, 144n.105, 150–52, 157, 160–61, 162n.13, 165–66, 171–75, 181–84, 186, 188–94, 196n.6, 197, 198n.13, 199, 202, 203n.24, 205n.30, 208, 210, 217n.59, 218, 220, 222–24 Persian Empire, 106, 118, 144 Persian War, 5, 9–10, 37, 90–91n.80, 99, 119–20, 171n.39, 178, 183n.63, 187–88, 190n.79, 223, 227 Phoenicia/Phoenicians, 23, 151–52, 162n.13, 179, 181–84, 186, 188–91 Phrygia/Phrygians, 122–23, 125, 128, 140 Pisistratus, 31–34, 35n.30 Plataea/Plataeans, 23, 117, 118n.30, 151–52, 160–70, 172, 178, 191 Plataea, Battle of, 22, 37, 70, 116, 150, 152, 159, 164, 167–68, 172, 174–75, 177, 189–90, 193, 196–97, 203–4, 221, 224, 226 Plato, 172, 174n.45, 187 Plutarch, 31n.11, 41n.40, 70n.44, 116n.28, 175–77 pnyx, 137n.82 Polycrates, 48n53, 185n.69, 215n.51 Polynices, 157, 171. See Seven against Thebes Pontos, 215n.53 Prexaspes, 18 Priam, 181 Proteus, 1

Pylos, 222n.67 Road, Royal, 22, 108n.8, 114, 127–29, 133–34, 136, 137n.79, 139–44, 149 roads, Roman, 127n.52 Sakas, 115 Salamis, 33, 100–101, 103 Page 252 → Salamis, Battle of, 37, 97–98, 167–68, 172, 215n.53, 217n.59, 221, 224 Samos/Samians, 138n.84 Sardis, 49, 127–28, 139 Scythia/Scythians, 8, 62–63n.24, 119, 162n.13 Serpent Column, 37 serpents, winged, 7 Seven against Thebes, 157, 189. See funeral orations/epitaphioi shield, of Achilles, 14, 110n.13 Sicyon, 196n.6 silver, 109n.8, 122n.27, 125–26. See metals (precious)/money slavery/slaves (chattel or political), 60, 71–72, 114, 125, 161–63, 165, 197n.10 Socles, 19–21 Socrates, 111n.15, 129n.56, 172, 174n.45, 187 Solon, 20–22, 24–54, 66, 105–6, 193, 215n.51 Sophists/Sophistic, 31n.12, 58, 137–38n.83 Sparta/Spartans, 20, 60, 70–71, 77n.59–61, 81n.69, 82, 86n.79, 88–90, 96n.90, 99, 105, 108, 111, 120, 124, 126–27, 129–30, 131n.60, 133, 135, 137–38, 139n.90, 144n.104, 145, 172, 175–76, 178, 181, 188, 195–96, 199n.15, 203–5, 213n.44, 219, 223n.68, 223n.70, 227 spear-bearers, royal (Persian), 65, 68 stades, Greek, 139, 142 Stephanus of Byzantium, 141n.93 Stoa Poikile, 169–70 Strepsiades, 111n.15, 137n.83 supplication/suppliant, 120, 136n.76, 161

Susa, 22, 27, 29, 106, 111, 114, 119, 122, 125, 126n.46, 127–28, 129n.56, 134, 136, 138–39, 141–42, 144–45, 148 Syloson, 162 Syracuse, 190n.79, 196n.6 Taenarum, 43 Tegea/Tegeans, 22, 150, 152–60, 171, 173, 175–77, 214n.48 Tellus, 21, 25–27, 30–47, 49n.56, 53 Tenos/Tenians, 37 Thebes/Thebans, 157, 161–63, 168n.28, 171, 197n.12, 205nn.30–31 Themistocles, 72n.50, 197n.12, 217n.59 Thermopylae, Battle of, 23, 55, 70–71, 79, 86, 88, 94, 117n.29, 178, 192–224 Thermopylae, Greek camp/wall at, 75–82, 85, 87, 100 Thermopylae Legend, 223 Thespis/Thespians, 178, 199–200, 202–7 Thessaly/Thessalians, 71, 75, 162n.13 Thrace, 198n.13 Thriasian Plain, 98, 102 Thucydides, 12–13, 16, 32n.18–20, 33n.22, 35n.30, 72n.50, 87, 137n.78, 139n.87, 163–66, 171n.35, 174n.45, 175, 178n.50, 187, 196n.5, 213n.45, 217n.59, 220, 222n.67, 225–28 Thurii, 14n.29 treasure houses, royal, 45, 52, 125–26, 215n.51 Trojan War, 157, 171, 181, 185n.70, 189–90. See funeral orations/epitaphioi Troy, 184, 189–90, 215n.53 truth/truthfulness, 6–11, 21–22, 27–30, 40, 53, 56–57, 65–67, 73–75, 79–80, 83–88, 93–97, 102–3, 105–6, 124, 143–49, 179, 182, 193, 207 tyranny/tyrant, 19, 114n.24, 162–63 Tyre, 181, 184 venality, Spartan, 116 wealth (of Asia), 124–27, 159 “wise adviser” motif, 24, 48, 87n.75, 126n.48; cf. 103, 174n.44 Xenophon, 127n.52

Xerxes, 18, 22–23, 54–104, 115–16, 126n.47, 144n.104, 159n.10, 162n.13, 173–74, 192–224 Xerxes' herald (8.24), 192–96, 198, 212–13, 215–18, 221 Xerxes' scout (7.208), 75–80, 82, 168n.28, 214n.48 Zeus, 122, 126, 162n.13, 164, 183–84 Zopyrus, 220–21

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Index of Greek Words and Phrases ἀγαθός, 87 ἀγών, 54, 80 αἰνέοντες, 219–20 αἰτίην/αἰτίους, 180–81 αἰχμή, 131n.60 ἀκλεᾶ, 180 ἀληθείη, 28, 30, 66, 79, 86–87, 94 ἀναγκαίη, 67–68; cf. 9–10, 17 ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι (andres symmachoi), 195–96, 198, 212 ἀξιόνικος, 159 ἄπιστος, 84–85 ἀποδεικνύναι, 158 ἀρετή (aretē), 57–59, 62, 72, 151, 171, 226 ἀτρεκής, 134, 142–44, 149 βάρβαροι, 115, 117 γελοῖον, 78, 180, 192, 209–11, 224 γῆς περίοδος/περίοδος γῆς, 108–109, 111 δεικνύναι, 136n.74 δεσπότης, 60, 71 διαβάλλειν (diaballein), 146, 148n.111–12 διαβάλλων εὖ, 145–47 διδόναι ἑαυτόν τινι, 161–64 δίκαι, 181, 184 δίζησθαι, 141–42, 149 δόρυ, 131n.60 δοῦλος, 162, 197n.10 ἔλπεσθαι, 93–94

ἐλπίζειν (elpizein), 47, 217, 223 ἐξίτηλα, 180 ἐπικαλέειν, 50 ἐπιμιμνῄσκεσθαι, 189 ἐπιστρεφέως, 44 ἐπιτάφιοι λόγοι (epitaphioi logoi/epitaphioi), 23, 151–52, 170, 187, 190, 226 ἔργον (ergon), 153–58, 160, 173, 179, 189, 191, 219–21 ἐς λόγους ἐλθεῖν, 50 ἔχεσθαι, 123 ἠπίως, 74 θεᾶσθαι (theāsthai), 212–20 θῶμα (thōma), 213–15, 219–20 Page 254 → ἱστορίη, 14, 16, 21, 107n.2, 135, 179 ἵστωρ (histōr), 1, 4, 14–15, 124n.42 καὶ γὰρ δὴ καί, 209–10 κατήκειν ἐπὶ θάλασσαν, 123 κλέος, 180 κυρβασίαι (kyrbasiai), 115, 132n.61 λέγεται, 35–36, 41–42 λέγουσι, 35 λόγιος/λόγιοι (logios/logioi), 14–15, 23, 151–52, 179, 181, 186, 189 λόγος/λόγοι (logos/logoi), 1, 4, 21, 30, 35–36, 39–44, 53, 133n.66, 135–36, 142, 149, 153–56, 160, 173, 180, 188, 220–21 λόγων ὁδός, 143 λόγων ὠθισμός, 155 μάστιξ, 64 μοῦνοι/μόνοι, 150, 156, 158, 167–68, 172, 227n.4 νέμεσις, 47–48 νηυσιπέρητος, 141

νόμος/νόμοι (nomos/nomoi), 55, 57–59, 62, 62n.24, 64n.27, 69–71, 74–75, 82, 131 ξεῖνος, 95, 120n.36, 136n.76 ξυμμαχία/συμμαχίη, 163–64, 197nn.10–11 ὅδε, (hode), 129 ὁδός (hodos), 143 οἶδα, 186, 188, 190 ὄλβιος (olbios), 25–26, 30, 35–36, 39, 44–47, 49, 52 ὄλβος (olbos), 48–49, 52 ὀλίγοι, 222–23 ὁπλῖται, 203–4 ὀρθῶς (orthōs), 134, 141, 148 (οὐ μὲν) οὐδέ, 206–8 ὄψις (opsis), 37, 39, 43, 188; cf. 7n.10 πάντες, 200, 205 παραινέειν, 103 πενίη, 57, 58n.7 πίναξ (pinax), 108, 137n.80 πολλοί, 222–23 προετρέψατο, 45 πρόρριζος, 48–49 πρῶτοι, 172; cf. 227n.4 πυνθάνεσθαι, 56, 87 σῆμα, 135–36 σημαίνειν, 135–36, 186 σοφίη, 57–59, 146 σοφός, 145–46 σταθμάεσθαι, 94 σταθμοί, 139 στέργειν, 67

σύμμαχοι (symmachoi), 195, 196n.7, 197. See ἄνδρες σύμμαχοι; ξυμμαχία/συμμαχίη σὺν θεῷ, 49–50, 52 σφάλλεσθαι, 27, 145, 148 τάφος, 38 τεκμαίρεσθαι, 87–88, 94 τις, 141 τὸ ἐόν (to eon), 27–30, 53, 66, 79, 94–95, 145–46, 148. See ἀληθείη τρόπος, 63, 92, 210. See νόμος τῶν ἐγὼ οἶδα/τῶν ἡμεῖς ἴδμεν, 123–25 (ὑπο)δειμαίνειν, 69, 71–72 (ὑπο)θωπεύειν, 29, 53 φάτις, 54n.1 φλυηρέειν, 73–74 φύσις (physis), 58, 64, 71n.48, 226 χρήσασθαι, 66 ψιλοί, 203–4

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Index of Citations Aeschines 3.162: 166 Apollodorus 2.1.3: 183 Aristophanes Acharnians 523–29: 182n.62 639: 29n.9 Clouds 206: 111n.15, 129n.56 206–17: 111n.15, 129n.56, 137n.83 207: 129n.56 209: 129n.56 211: 129n.56 212: 129n.56 214: 129n.56 Wasps 610: 29n.9 Aristotle Poetics 9.1451a-b: 11n.19 Cicero de Legibus 1.1.5: 11, 12n.23 Demosthenes 60.10: 172 [Demosthenes]

59.94: 170 59.104: 166n.25 59.104–6: 166n.25 Dionysius of Halicarnassus ad Pompeium 3: 11n.19 3.1: 11n.19 Eusebius Chronicle (Armenian version) 92 Kaerst: 32n.20 Hecataeus of Miletus FGrHist 1 F 1: 9n.15, 180 FGrHist 1 F 169: 141n.93 Herodotus proem: 14, 14n.29, 16, 135, 151, 158n.9, 179–81, 214, 219 1.1: 181 1.1.3: 183 Page 256 → 1.1–5: 23, 178–79, 180n.55, 183n.63, 185n.68 1.1–5.2: 151, 179–80, 182, 185, 188–91 1.1–5.4: 151 1.2.1: 181, 183–84 1.2.2–3: 181 1.3: 181 1.4.1: 181 1.4.2–3: 184 1.4.4: 181 1.5.1: 181 1.5.2: 181, 183

1.5.3: 135n.71, 181, 185–86, 188, 190 1.5.3–4: 151, 178, 186–89 1.5.4: 189 1.6: 186, 188n.78 1.6.2: 186n.72 1.7–25: 188n.78 1.8.2: 215n.51 1.8.3: 215n.51 1.9.2: 215n.51 1.10.1: 215n.51 1.11.3: 215n.51 1.14.2: 9n.16 1.22.4: 197n.11 1.23–24: 17, 17n.41, 43, 188n.78 1.24.8: 43 1.26: 188n.78 1.29–33: 21, 24, 26, 28–30, 31n.11–12, 36n.31, 43–44, 47–49, 51–54, 105 1.29.1: 51 1.30.1: 45, 52 1.30.1–2: 52 1.30.2: 25–26, 36, 52, 215n.51 1.30.3: 25–28, 30, 44, 47, 53 1.30.3–5: 25–26, 30–39, 43–44, 53 1.30.3–31: 25, 53 1.30.3–32: 26 1.30.4: 36n.32, 42, 44 1.30.4–5: 20, 26, 44, 53 1.30.5: 31, 33, 36n.31, 66 1.31: 25–26, 31.n.12, 39–43, 53

1.31.1: 25, 45 1.31.2: 41–42 1.31.3: 25 1.31.5: 43 1.32: 24, 44, 46, 49, 53 1.32.1: 46 1.32.2: 36n.31 1.32.4: 24 1.32.9: 25, 47, 48 1.33: 25, 29, 44, 46–48 1.34: 48 1.34–45: 48 1.34.1: 47–48 1.42.2–3: 48 1.47.3: 123n.41, 124n.42 1.57.1: 87n.76 1.57.2: 87n.76 1.59–64: 32 1.68.1: 214n.48 1.68.1–2: 214n.48, 220n.64 1.68.2: 214n.48 1.75–85: 48 1.85.4: 126n.48 1.86: 22, 26, 44, 49, 52–53, 193 1.86.3: 49, 50nn.57–58, 52 1.86.4: 50, 51n.61, 72n.50 1.86.4–5: 51 1.86.5: 51–52, 215n.51 1.86.6: 72n.50

1.87.1: 41–42 1.87.2: 50 1.93.1–2: 220n.64 1.95.1: 142n.97, 143n.100 1.117.2: 143n.100 1.139: 141n.96 1.169: 118n.30 1.169.2: 162n.13 1.173.1: 63n.25 1.189.1: 141n.94 1.205.2: 141n.94 2.23: 13, 16, 112n.20 2.30.2: 162n.13 2.33.2: 87n.76 2.35.1: 220n.64 2.56.1: 9n.16 2.75.1: 7n.10 2.106.5: 9n.16 2.112–20: 185n.70 2.113.2: 162n.13 Page 257 → 2.123.1: 11n.18 2.148: 214n.49 2.148.1: 220n.64 2.148.5: 214 2.148.6: 214n.49 2.156.2: 9n.16 2.162.6: 162n.13 3.9.2: 11n.18

3.15.3: 94n.85 3.17–25: 119 3.19.3: 162n.13 3.23.3: 9n.16 3.23.4: 215n.51 3.24.1: 215n.51 3.25.1: 215n.51 3.35.1–4: 18 3.37: 61n.20 3.37.1: 197n.10 3.38.2: 94n.85 3.40.3: 48nn.53–54 3.46: 138n.84 3.46.1: 138n.84 3.46.2: 138n.84 3.80–83: 65–66n.31, 74n.56, 84, 95n.88, 174 3.80.1: 65–66n.31, 84 3.80.3: 95n.88 3.94.2: 124 3.100: 63n.25 3.115.2: 13, 16 3.122.2: 185n.69 3.123.2: 215n.51 3.140.5: 162 3.156.3: 220 3.157.3: 220 4.1: 119 4.18.3: 9n.16 4.30.1: 142n.97

4.32–36.1: 112 4.36: 111n.15 4.36.2: 110–13, 211 4.37–45: 112–13 4.41: 112 4.42.1: 112, 214 4.44.1–3: 18 4.45.1: 112 4.45.2: 112 4.58: 94n.85 4.81.2: 7.n.10 4.81.2–6: 7 4.83–102: 119 4.85.1: 215–16n.53 4.87.1: 215–16n.53 4.96.2: 63n.25 4.118–42: 119 4.132.1: 162n.13 4.139.2: 196n.8 4.158.3: 196n.8 4.159.4: 162n.13 4.168.1: 123 4.168–99: 122, 124 4.169.1: 123 4.170: 123 4.180.5: 162n.13 4.187.3: 9n.16 4.195.2: 9n.16 4.195.4: 9n.16

4.200–205: 124 5.13.2: 162n.13 5.24.1: 123n.41 5.31: 122n.39 5.32: 9n.16, 197n.10 5.36: 110n.14 5.36.2–3: 110n.14 5.36.4: 135n.71 5.38.2: 197n.11 5.49: 108, 110, 111n.15, 112–14, 117, 119, 122, 126, 128, 129n.57, 131, 132nn.61–62, 132n.64, 133n.67, 137, 140n.91, 141n.93, 144n.104 5.49.1: 108, 111, 114n.24 5.49.2–8: 124, 138 5.49.3: 115, 119, 125n.44 5.49.3–4: 114–19, 133 5.49.4: 115, 119, 125, 131, 132n.61 5.49.5: 108, 111, 123–25, 136n.74 5.49.5–7: 122, 124–25, 129, 133, 147, 149 5.49.6: 123, 125 5.49.7: 126 5.49.8: 115, 126, 159 5.49.9: 138 Page 258 → 5.49–51: 22, 27–30, 105–7, 113, 119, 121, 127, 137n.82, 142, 144, 146–49 5.49–54: 105, 124n.43, 134, 143n.102, 144, 159n.11 5.50.1: 119, 139 5.50.2: 22, 27–28, 114, 120, 139, 144–45, 147–48 5.50.3: 27, 120, 135, 139 5.51: 127, 130, 137n.79 5.51.1: 120, 136n.76

5.51.2: 120, 126 5.51.3: 120, 127, 135–36 5.52: 127 5.52–53: 139 5.52–54: 22, 106, 107n.2, 114, 127–29, 133, 137n.79, 141nn.93–94, 142, 143nn.102–3, 149 5.52.1: 127, 140 5.52.2: 140, 141n.93 5.52.3: 141 5.52.4: 141 5.52.5: 141n.93 5.52.6: 141 5.53: 127, 139, 141n.93 5.54: 139 5.54.1: 22, 28, 106, 114, 128, 134–35, 139, 141–42, 145, 148–49 5.54.2: 128, 139, 142 5.71: 32–34 5.71.2: 31–32 5.73.2: 197n.10 5.88.1: 9n.16 5.91.2: 196 5.92: 19–21 5.92β-ε: 19 5.92ζ-η: 19 5.93: 19 5.97: 99n.93, 131n.59, 132nn.61–62, 132n.64, 133n.67, 137, 137–38n.83 5.97.1: 130–33 5.97.1–2: 129 5.97.2: 99, 132–33, 146 5.98.2: 196n.8

5.99.1: 197n.11 5.103.1: 197n.11 5.103.2: 197n.11 5.106.4: 95n.86 5.107: 95n.86 5.120: 197n.11 5.125: 110n.14 6.9.3: 197n.11 6.13.1: 197n.11 6.15.2: 197n.11 6.19.2: 203n.24 6.19.3: 203n.24 6.29.1: 217n.59 6.56–58: 62 6.57.1: 62 6.67.2: 213n.44 6.82.1: 9n.16 6.86: 20–21 6.86α-δ: 20 6.86δ: 48n.54 6.102–17: 23, 38, 151–52, 160, 168, 178, 190–91, 225 6.108: 161–62, 164, 168 6.108.1: 161 6.108.2: 161 6.108.2–3: 164 6.108.3: 161 6.108.4: 161 6.108.5–6: 162 6.108.6: 162

6.111.1: 161 6.111.2: 169 6.112.3: 117, 118nn.30–31 6.113.1: 161 6.113.2: 161 6.120: 218–20 6.123.2: 9n.16 6.130.1: 196n.6 6.137.3: 35 6.137.4: 35 7.3: 54n.1 7.3.2: 54n.1 7.5.3: 57n.7 7.8: 174 7.8α2: 57n.7 7.8γ1: 126n.47 7.8–11: 118n.32, 174n.44 7.9: 174 Page 259 → 7.9β: 118n.32 7.9β2: 92n.82 7.10: 173–74 7.10β1: 173–74 7.11: 174n.45 7.16γ2: 87n.76 7.39.1: 197n.10 7.43.1: 215–16n.53 7.44: 215n.53 7.56.1: 215n.53

7.59.3–60.3: 18, 216 7.61–80: 115, 118 7.61.1: 115, 117n.29, 118 7.64.2: 115 7.83.2: 116 7.89–95: 198 7.97: 91n.81 7.99.1: 17 7.99.3: 197n.10 7.100.1: 215n.53 7.100.3: 215n.53 7.101.1: 56, 87 7.101.1–3: 56 7.101.2: 18, 83 7.101.3: 56, 66–67, 72–73, 80, 87, 102 7.101–4: 73n.53, 80n.65 7.101–5: 18n.43, 22, 54–55, 57–58n.7, 60n.17, 61n.20, 62n.24, 66, 67n.35, 74–75, 78–80, 82–89, 92–94, 96, 103, 105, 192 7.102.1: 57–60, 66–67, 73, 80, 84 7.102.1–3: 60, 62, 72, 74 7.102.2: 60 7.102.2–3: 57, 59–60 7.102.3: 60, 81 7.103: 62n.23 7.103.1: 62, 65, 74, 78, 84–85 7.103.1–2: 60–62, 63, 65n.30, 85 7.103.1–5: 60–61 7.103.2: 62 7.103.3: 18, 63, 83 7.103.3–4: 63, 72

7.103.4: 63–64, 67, 69, 71n.48, 72, 92 7.103.4–5: 64–65 7.103.5: 65, 68, 73, 85 7.104.1: 66–67, 73, 80 7.104.1–5: 65, 67, 72, 74 7.104.2: 67, 81 7.104.3: 68 7.104.4: 69, 70n.40, 71–72, 82–83 7.104.4–5: 68–69, 72 7.104.5: 70, 73 7.105: 73–74, 78, 84–85 7.109.1: 144n.104 7.128.1: 215n.53 7.128.2: 214n.48, 215n.53 7.130.3: 162n.13, 215n.53 7.135.2: 162n.13 7.139: 9–10, 10n.17, 67n.36, 90n.80, 171n.39 7.139.1: 9, 11, 16, 67 7.139.2: 162n.13 7.139.5: 9–11, 16, 171n.39 7.146.3: 215n.51 7.148.1: 215n.51 7.148.4: 196n.6 7.148–52: 10 7.150.5: 196n.6 7.152.3: 10–11, 16 7.153.4: 220n.64 7.161.3: 190n.79 7.168.3: 217n.59

7.175–77: 23, 178, 193, 212, 221–22, 224 7.185.1: 198n.13 7.187.2: 159n.10 7.198–233: 23, 178, 193, 212, 221–22, 224 7.202: 77n.59, 204n.28 7.205.2: 77n.59 7.208: 75–76 7.208.1: 75 7.208.2: 77 7.208.2–3: 76 7.208.3: 77, 82 7.208–9: 79n.64, 85n.73 7.209: 22, 54, 75, 78, 80, 82, 84–89, 92, 94, 96, 100–101, 103, 105, 192 7.209.1: 75, 77–79, 100 7.209.1–2: 78 7.209.2: 22, 54, 79–82, 84–85 7.209.2–4: 79 7.209.3: 80–83, 85 7.209.4: 82–83, 85 Page 260 → 7.209.5: 83–85 7.210.2: 222 7.211: 223 7.211.3: 117n.29, 223 7.212.1: 215n.53, 223 7.214.2: 94n.85 7.219.2: 205n.30 7.220–22: 205n.30 7.220.4: 223n.70

7.222: 205n.31 7.223.1: 201 7.223.3: 223 7.224.2: 223 7.225.2–3: 202 7.228.1: 204n.28, 205n.30 7.229.1: 70, 204 7.230: 70n.43 7.231: 70–71 7.232: 71 7.233: 205n.30 7.233.1: 9n.16 7.233.2: 205n.30 7.234–37: 22, 54, 85–88, 97, 103, 105, 192 7.234.1: 87n.75, 88–89, 93–94 7.234.2: 88–89 7.234.3: 86, 89–90 7.235: 90n.80 7.235.1–3: 89–91 7.235.4: 91 7.236: 91 7.236.1: 91–92, 209–10 7.236.2: 92 7.236.3: 92–93 7.237: 96 7.237.1: 93, 96 7.237.2: 94–96 7.237.2–3: 95 7.237.3: 96

7.238.1: 201 7.238.1–2: 201 7.239.2: 67n.37 8.1.1: 167–68 8.8.2: 9n.16 8.8.3: 9n.16 8.15.1: 194n.3 8.19.1: 197n.11 8.22.1: 196n.8 8.23: 193, 194n.3 8.24: 193 8.24–25: 23, 192–93, 206, 209, 211n.38, 212, 216, 218–19, 221–22, 224 8.24.1: 193–94, 201, 208–9, 223 8.24.2: 195–96, 198, 212–13, 216–18, 221 8.25: 198–99, 204, 208, 211n.40 8.25.1: 198–200, 202, 204–8, 213 8.25.2: 23, 192–93, 201–2, 205–12, 219, 223 8.25.3: 194n.3, 199, 209, 213 8.44.1: 168 8.60γ: 217n.59 8.65: 22, 54, 97, 100–101, 103–4 8.65.1: 98–99, 101 8.65.2: 99–100 8.65.2–3: 100 8.65.2–4: 100 8.65.4: 101 8.65.4–5: 101–2 8.65.5: 102 8.65.6: 98, 103

8.66.1: 213 8.68γ: 197n.10 8.69.1: 197n.10 8.69.2: 215n.53 8.77.1: 9n.16 8.82.1: 36, 37n.33 8.86: 215n.53 8.88.2: 215n.53 8.89.1: 197n.10 8.100.5: 221 8.107.1: 221 8.113.3: 197n.10 8.116.2: 213n.44 9.7α1: 197n.10 9.9.2: 197n.10 9.10.1: 203n.26 9.11.2: 197n.10 9.21.2: 196 9.26: 150, 153, 159, 177 9.26–27: 175 9.26–28.1: 22, 150, 152–53, 160, 167, 173–74, 175n.46, 176, 193 Page 261 → 9.26.1: 153, 155 9.26.2: 153, 156 9.26.2–7: 153 9.26.3: 153, 156 9.26.4: 153 9.26.5: 153–54, 158 9.26.6: 154, 159

9.26.6–7: 154 9.26.7: 153–55, 157 9.27: 22–23, 150–52, 154, 156, 159–60, 171, 173–79, 187, 189–90, 226 9.27.1: 153, 155–56, 159–60 9.27.2: 156, 158 9.27.3: 157 9.27.2–4: 152, 189–91 9.27.2–5: 177 9.27.4: 157, 171, 189–90 9.27.4–5: 151, 178, 187–89, 191 9.27.5: 22–23, 150–52, 157–58, 168, 170, 172–73, 178–79, 190–91, 225 9.27.5–6: 151n.1, 157–58 9.27.6: 157–58, 176–77 9.28.1: 150, 156, 158–60 9.28.2: 203n.26 9.28.6: 167–68 9.29.1–2: 203n.26 9.32.2: 197 9.48.2: 197n.10 9.62: 116n.28 9.62–63: 116 9.62.2: 116 9.62.3: 116, 116n.28, 201n.17 9.63: 116n. 28 9.63.2: 116, 116n.28, 201n.17 9.65.2: 214 9.67: 197n.10, 197n.12 9.71.2: 70 9.71.3: 70

9.81.1: 37n.33 9.89.3: 196n.8 9.91.2: 197n.11 9.92: 197n.11 9.98.3: 196n.8 9.115: 197n.10 Homer Iliad 2.552–55: 190n.79 18.501: 14 Hyperides Epitaphios 4–6: 187 Lycurgus Against Leocrates 129: 69n.39 Lysias 2.24: 172 2.49–53: 226 2.51: 226 23.6: 167 Pausanius 1.15.3: 169 1.32.3: 38, 163n.16 Plato Menexenus 234c-235c: 174n.45 239c: 187 240d: 172

Plutarch Agesilaos 30.2–4: 70n.44 Aristides 12: 175–77 12.1: 176 12.2–3: 176 Moralia 108 F: 41n.40 873f-874a: 116n.28 Solon 27.1: 31n.11 Solon 27: 36n.31 Thucydides 1.1: 217n.59 1.20.2: 35n.30 1.21–22: 16 1.21.1: 226n.2 1.22.1: 175 1.22.4: 137n.78, 226n.2 Page 262 → 1.67–88: 227 1.73: 228 1.73–78: 187–88 1.73.2: 188, 227 1.73.4: 227 1.105.3–106: 226 1.106.2: 226

1.120.1: 196n.5 1.124.2: 196n.5 1.126.5: 32n.20 1.138.1: 72n.50 2.2.1: 164n.7 2.34: 33n.22, 38 2.34–47.1: 171n.35, 174n.45, 187, 227 2.34.5: 38 2.36: 171n.35 2.36.4: 187, 227–28 2.43.1: 213n.45 2.71–78: 164 2.71.2: 164–65 2.73.3: 164n.17 3.20–24: 164 3.52–68: 164 3.53–68: 163 3.55.1: 163, 164n.17 3.55.3: 164n.17, 166n.24 3.63.2: 164n.17, 166n.24 3.68.5: 163–64 4.3–41: 222n.67 4.53–55: 90n.80 5.7.4: 213n.45 5.9.9: 196n.5 5.84–111: 227 5.89: 228 5.89.1: 227 5.113: 213n.45

6.54.1: 35n.30 6.81–87: 227 6.83: 228 6.83.2: 227 Xenophon Anabasis 3.5.15: 127n.52