Authority and Tradition in Ancient Historiography

Marincola scrutinizes claims to authority and credence in the ancient writers of history, both Greek and Roman. In the synoptic manner of his teacher Charles Fornara (The Nature of History in Ancient Greece and Rome, 1983), Marincola surveys nearly a millennium of explicit statements (xii, 1) and methods implicit in actual practice. Starting from the Milesian Hecataeus and other now fragmentary authors and extending to the truncated text of the Antiochene Ammianus Marcellinus, he chiefly examines the historians proper, but occasionally and justifiably includes relevant comments from other genres, by Aristotle, Cicero, and Lucian in his satire on writing history.

Appendix I offers a useful table of the forty-eight historians mentioned. Some authors are mentioned on nearly every page, such as Thucydides and Polybius, while others, such as Hellanicus or the so-called Oxyrhynchus Historian, seem neglected (eight and six references respectively in the very full index, none a serious discussion). A more troubling problem than the quantity of references is that the sheer size of the enterprise prevents Marincola from fully considering the principles and habits of even his principal players: Herodotus, Thucydides, Polybius, Sallust, Livy, Tacitus, and Ammianus.

Fierce scholarly controversy is side-stepped (e.g., “tragic history,” 23) because every topic broached requires Marincola to register the positions of his full roster. Since the remnants of the second-stringers are often so meager that we cannot discern, for example, what Psaon of Plataea or Cato did write so as to indicate his position relative to predecessors, the 300-page text suffers the consequence of “catalogue effect,” forever trotting along, as it must, to the succeeding epoch and author. Topoi are responsibly identified, described as they are transmitted from writer to writer, and differences noted. For an example, the historian’s inquiring enterprise that seemed so susceptible to tragic human oblivion to Herodotus, or so necessary an investigation for political acuity to Thucydides, became a pastime for Sallust (when politics had to be abandoned) and comforting escapism for the often unique Livy, luxuriously basking in an antique glow when reliving the days of yore (Praef. 3, 43.13.2). As for recorders’ motives, the self-evident love of ascertaining fact or belief for Herodotus yielded, in some cases, to nocturnal transmissions from the gods through dreams for later chroniclers. Not only Hesiod and Ennius before historiography, but Pliny the Elder, author of the Germania (Pliny Min. Ep. 3.5.4), employed dreams to legitimate the urge to indite the past (48; cf. Dio 78.10.1–2, and, again, beyond history, Galen, Lucan, etc.; 50 n. 64).

Marincola examines how the ancient historians claimed—or created—authority and veracity for their reports. No god, no muse, no oaths or witnesses (5) certify their work, but personal investigation: thus a first-person narrator from Hecataeus (FGrHist 1 F1) onwards. Techniques include imitation of eminent predecessors, explicit modifications of faulty procedures, and presentation of their own personae and their predecessors’ (for example, political and military experience or lack thereof). Imitation emerges as verbal (including dialect: Ionic, Attic), thematic, stylistic, organizational (divisions of the work by seasons, years, campaigns, etc.), and attitudinal (praise, blame, other functions of history). Continuation itself provides a manner of imitation.

Marincola’s approach to the presentation of events and to the self-presentation of these historians is fundamentally rhetorical. He discusses topoi on matters such as occasions for writing history, authors’ qualifications (offices, travel, etc.), and the inquiries and efforts (e.g., libraries visited) that they made. He eschews interest in the truth of claims (which he justifies), but his survey method also prevents him from examining each historian’s strategy as part of that author’s epistemological or literary whole. At times (e.g., 76 on narratival credibility), he seems to say that historians were more interested in the credible than the actual. He declares that “history was a branch of rhetoric” (79), but the best of these historians would not endorse this formulation.

The approach allows many good comparative observations...