Sunday, 18 August 2013

Late Roman Source Analysis: Orientius, Salvian and Paulinus of Pella



“Decline and Fall” or “the world turned upside down”?  is an oft-quoted phrase taken from Salvian’s sermon of the early 5th century to describe the Germanic invasions.

Take a closer look at three near-contemporary Gallo-Roman sources - Paulinus of Pella, Orientius and Salvian - and what they say about these events. To what extent should we take them at face value? 

The first half of the fifth century was a period of rapid transformation for the established structures and institutions in Gaul. Once a part of the Western Roman Empire, Gaul was increasingly subjected to the sway of barbarian tribes who were crossing the Rhine frontier. For the established Roman aristocracy this was a particularly difficult period, and many were forced off the land that their families had held for generations. Increasingly, the burgeoning religion of Christianity was to provide material, spiritual and moral support for those displaced. From this setting emerge the three sources that are the subject of this essay. All were educated, Christian writers from Gaul, who, to varying degrees, witnessed and reported on what may be cautiously called the barbarian invasion of Gaul. However, if we consider the accounts given by Orientius, Paulinus of Pella and Salvian, we find that they differ widely in both subject and form, which leads to a natural process of questioning. This essay, then, will look at these three writers and consider how much historical value can be placed on their work. It will be argued that each were writing for different reasons, and that these concerns greatly affected the accounts that they gave, which, of its self, recommends caution in taking their accounts “on face value”.

Orientius, the earliest of the three writers, wrote his Commonitorium, a poem of just over a thousand elegiacs, after the invasion of Gaul by the Vandals, Alans and Sueves in AD 406[1]. The poem is a “series of exhortations to upright, Christian living,”[2] which uses the events of the barbarian invasion for essentially moralistic purposes. Orientius’ description is characterized by images of apocalyptic upheaval, of “death, sorrow, destruction, fire, lamentation”[3]. He uses emotive language to describe the plight of the “faithful” at the hands of the non-descript “barbarians”. The purported scale of violence, of which it is difficult to believe Orientius had reliable knowledge, when combined with a decided lack of detail, must lead to questions over the account's veracity. Additionally, Orientius uses almost identical phrases to contemporary writers of Christian poetry[4], indicating that they are formulaic and rhetorical, and devotes only 20 of the thousand lines of the Commonitorium to these dramatic events[5], a fact that betrays Orientius’ lack of historical interest. Instead of an historical account, the Commonitorium is perhaps best seen as an expression of Christian ascetic idealism. This was the rejection of material concerns in pursuit of the Christian god—a pursuit made all the more pertinent by the invasion of the barbarians. Unfortunately, this doesn’t leave us with much more than the fact that barbarians were entering Roman Gaul, and Christians like Orientius were retreating further into their dogmatic beliefs. The next source to be considered here, Paulinus of Pella, however, does offer a more nuanced perspective, one that, although ostensibly a Christian confession, was arguably centred on more material concerns.

Paulinus of Pella was a member of an aristocratic family in Aquitania, who were very much a part of the Roman political structure before the arrival of the barbarians. His Eucharisticos outline the events of his life, from the wealth and prosperity of his youth to near destitution in old age. Most importantly, the Eucharisticos are a candid, if not thorough, examination of the public and private machinations of Paulinus in Aquitania, after the invasion of AD 406. In brief, Paulinus tells of his youth and education in Bordeaux and his marriage into another aristocratic family. The relatively prosperity of his youth is broken when, in AD 406, at the age of thirty, he suffers the “double burden” of the death of his father and the invasion of the Barbarian “foes,” who “burst into the vitals of the Roman Realm”[6]. He then describes the loss of his estate in Bordeaux and his role in saving Bazas from the Goths and Alans. Finally, he poignantly recounts his “perpetual exile,”[7]  suffering the gradual loss of his family, and finding consolation alone in his relationship with god.
Paulinus’ narrative, while rather unfortunate, offers us a tantalizing glimpse at the ramifications of the barbarian invasion. Through the example of Paulinus, we are able to see the way that an aristocratic family was forced to adapt when the old structures of the Empire began to collapse. It is interesting to note that, while suffering his fair share of hardship, Paulinus’ estate was not simply burned and ruined, and that his political sway, while reduced, was still of vital importance to him. The Eucharisticos illustrates the difficult position that such men would have found themselves in: being forced to decide whether to stay and deal with new authorities or flee, and whether to give up some entitlements, specifically land, in order to gain physical protection from a Gothic “guest”[8]. It is equally interesting to note the personal relationships that Paulinus mentions including friendships with the Gothic kings Attaulf and Attalus[9] and the way he uses these relationships, ultimately unsuccessfully, to further his own ends. This picture is perhaps closer to the one painted by modern historians of this period than that of Orientius[10]. Another key element to Paulinus is the way he used Christianity not just for spiritual assistance but as a means for securing his material position as well. This phenomenon, of members of the established aristocracy seeking positions within the church as a means of preserving their political positions, as well as their material wealth and culture, was common at this time[11]. Indeed, as McLynn argues, the Eucharisticos may serve as a pertinent literary example of this, because in them Paulinus’ uses a confessional poem addressed to god, to further his more temporal concerns[12]. This cannot be said, however, for Salvian, whose religious fervour is unquestionable, and whose moralistic endeavours pulse through every line of his Dei Gubernatione de Dei. 

Salvian, who wrote in the middle part of the fifth century AD, was from northern Gaul, but soon fled to the relative safety of Marseille. His Dei Gubernatione de Dei or “Government of God” is essentially a Christian treaty aimed at accounting for God’s favouring of the pagan or heretical barbarians over the Christian Romans. Like Orientius, Salvian promotes Christian asceticism[13]; however, his work represents a departure from those earlier Christian writers, in the way that the barbarians are depicted. Not wholly barbaric, the invaders are instead pagans and heretics, whose moral failings are not to be judged so harshly as the Romans, because of their ignorance of the proper Christian god[14]. More specifically, in Book V, Salvian attacks the Roman aristocracy for their greedy abuse of the taxation system. He defends those who choose to renounce their Roman name and turn to the life of the outlaw under the ambiguous name Bagaudae[15]. He also appears sympathetic to Romans who choose to live under Barbarian rule, arguing that facing destitution under the Romans, there is simply no alternative[16].

Salvian gives us an important account of some of the internal factors that contributed to the breakdown of the Roman structure. This perspective represents a sharp divergence from Orientius who was more focused on the external invasion. We do, however, run into difficulty with Salvian when we consider the cause of this internal decay; his attribution of all ills to unreligious vice and the ubiquity of this corruption throughout Aquitaine are difficult to credit with historical accuracy[17]. Salvian then, while an important source, is best seen as a preacher, who “from his vocation, and in proportion to his enthusiasm for righteousness, cannot be a dispassionate observer”[18].  

These three examples help to illustrate the caution required when assessing this dramatic historical period. All three writers had specific concerns that affected their narratives; as such, none should be taken on “face value”. The complexity of the situation in Gaul in the fifth century means that the once prevailing narrative of barbarian invasion and Roman collapse does not capture the full extent of internal and external factors at work. In combination, these three writers help to illustrate that complexity.



Bibliography

Primary Sources
Orientius, Commonitorii, Bk 11, (CSEL XVI, 205-243); transl. M.O’H
Paulinus Pellaeus (1921) The Eucharisicos, Volume II of the Loeb Classical Library's Ausonius, 295‑351. H.G Evelyn White
Salvian (1930) De Gubernatione de Dei, On the Government of God, Translated by Eva M. Sanford, New York: Columbia University Press

Secondary Sources
Dill, S. (1910) Roman Society in the Last Century of the Western Empire, London: MacMillan and Co.
Haverfield, F. (1905) Recent Literature on Orientius, The Classical Review, 19: 02: 126-128
Innes, M. (2007) Introduction to Early Medieval Western Eurpoe 300-900, Oxon: Routledge
Ladner, G. (1976) On Roman Attitudes Toward Barbarians in Late Antiquity, Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 7: 01-26
Mathisen, R.W. (1984) Emigrants, Exiles, and Survivors: Aristocratic Options in Visigothic Aquitania. Phoenix, 38: 2: 159-170
McLynn, N. (1995) Paulinus the Impenitent: A study of the Eucharisticos. Journal of Early Christian Studies, 3: 461-486
Thompson, E.A. (1956) The settlement of the Babarians in Southern Gaul. JRS 46: 65-75
Van Dam, R.  (1985), Leaders and Community in Late Antique Gaul, Berkley: University of California Press


[1] Haverfield, 1905, 127.
[2] Haverfield, 1905, 127.
[3] Orientius, Commonitorium Bk11
[4] Dill, 1910, 316.
[5] Haverfield, 1905, 127.
[6] Paulinus, Eucharisticos, 323
[7] Paulinus, Eucharisticos, 343
[8] Paulinus, Eucharisticos, 327
[9] Paulinus, Eucharisticos, 329
[10] Innes, 2007, 126, for example, writes: “Whilst we should not sanitise the experience of invasion, civil war and political dislocation, or forget the associated plunder pillage and destruction, it would be a mistake to see this type of conflict as leading to the outright devastation of Roman order, and wholesale social collapse”.
[11] Van Dam, 1985, 151-153
[12] Mclynn, 2004, 486
[13] Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei, Book I, Ch. 2, for example, “It is useless for us to bemoan this affliction of bodily illness, which we know is the mother of strength”
[14] Ladner, 1976, 24
[15] Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei, Book V, Ch. 06
[16] Salvian, De Gubernatione Dei, Book V, Ch. 08
[17] Dill, 1910, 141-142
[18] Dill, 1910, 142

Tuesday, 6 August 2013

Classical Athenian Drama: Euripides' Medea and Aristophanes' Lysistrata

Classical Athenian Drama

It is an unfortunate fact that history has been almost entirely written by men. When using historical, and, indeed, non-historical sources such as literature, this lack of divergent perspectives makes it difficult to accurately analyse a society. Nowhere is this fact more clearly evident than in the study of Classical Athens.

As unfortunate as this phenomenon is, it can be argued that the homogeneity of sources does not necessarily represent a comparable homogeneity of ideas and themes. In Athenian drama, for example, the work of the three major tragedians, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, have many similarities in both matter and form. Equally however, there are differences in their work that help to indicate the full spectrum and progress of thought in democratic Athens in the fifth century BCE. Additionally, the work of Aristophanes, the comedic playwright, helps to add another layer of thought and perspective. Although his work takes a different form, its relatively contemporary nature and indisputable quality, make it equally valuable for the purpose of assessing Athenian social and cultural values.
                                                   
Although the different perspectives of the dramatists help, there is one area in which the lack of diversity in Classical Athenian literature is particularly notable and destructive: there exists no works written by a woman of this time. This, when coupled with the lack of historical or legal references, makes understanding the Classical Athenian woman a very difficult task (Shaw, 1975, pp255.); we are wholly dependent upon the views and perspectives of male writers in forming our ideas of how they lived. With this ancient equivalent of the 'male gaze' in mind, this essay will look at two examples of Classical drama, Euripides' Medea and Aristophanes' Lysistrata, and search for clues as to the cultural values of Athens in regards to woman and womanhood. It will be argued that these texts show that the role of women in Classical Athens was not a fixed one, and that traditional ideas about women were being challenged by these two playwrights.

There are three key elements to gender relations in Classical Athens. Firstly, Athens was a stratified society based on status. Secondly, there was a key social delineation between the private sphere of the household (the oikos) and the public sphere of the polis. And, finally, the respective genders had clearly defined roles within these spheres, and, more specifically, in the case of women, this meant no role in the public life of the polis (Saxonhouse, 1980, pp65, Shaw, 1989, pp256.).  In the context of this essay, this final point is critical. The degree to which women, contained within the private sphere of the household, were able to affect the public affairs of the polis is a matter of contention.

For, although it is widely accepted that women were excluded from public life, it does not necessarily follow that they were completely without influence (Cohen, 1989, pp03.). Indeed, this essay will argue that both Medea and Lysistrata help to illustrate the importance and strength of the position of the woman within the home, and that it is more than likely that women used this position in order to influence men's outward or public behaviour. It can be argued, therefore, that by affecting the actions of their husbands, women were able to influence the broader affairs of the polis.

Euripides' Medea can be viewed as a paradoxical figure. In the most part, she defies all of the characteristics of the Athenian feminine ideal; “She is a women … who simply refuses any longer to accept – at any rate Greek – female stereotypes” (Shirley, 1989, pp158.). In this way, Euripides alienates her from the (most likely) completely male audience. If this is not enough to cement Medea's 'otherness', she is also a witch with “magic drugs” (Medea, Line 718), who comes from a “barbarian land” (Medea, Line 536). As well as these attributes, Medea's actions themselves, both before and during the play, could have only added to this sense of alienation. She betrays all of the familial and political bonds that Greek culture was built upon with her heinous and meticulously planned crimes. However, this view of Medea as the abhorrent alien is not the whole picture. As Shirley has shown, she is given many characteristics that are reminiscent of the Homeric heroes, showing resolve and daring, and valuing her “honour” and sense of personal justice above all else (1989, pp161). The agon, or debate, with Jason, as shown in the excerpt (Medea, Lines 479-626), illustrates that Medea is capable of defending her honour with words; her rhetoric is clearly the stronger, a fact that Jason, with no small amount of irony, acknowledges, “Do you know how to change your prayer and thus appear the wiser?” (Medea, Lines 600-601). Taken as a whole, these can be viewed as masculine traits and behaviours, and could perhaps, in another context, be described as noble. However, the complexity of Medea's character doesn’t end there. Medea’s decision to kill her children, and her subsequent hesitation before committing the deed, further obfuscate her identity. Although she does go on to commit the infanticide, her hesitation  and impassioned speech before the crime reveal a feminine and maternal nature, veiled behind her anger. This, as Shirley has shown, is paradoxical (1989, pp165.).

In Medea, Euripides has created a deeply complex and contradictory heroine. There is not time to fully detail Medea's character and its contradictions here; however, for the purposes of this essay, it is important to ask why Euripides has created them at all? It can be argued that this was Euripides'


way of challenging the feminine ideal itself, for, in Medea, we see not simply a vexed and vengeful women destroying every social convention in her path, but also a tortured soul, who, as Esposito puts it, is engaged in a “psychological war” (2004, Intro. Pp 11.) with herself, that ends with the ultimate crime against her own oikos—an act which both defends her honour and destroys everything that is important to her as a woman.

One of the most striking implications of Medea's actions is the fact that she is using her influence in the private sphere of the household—while she still has it—to manipulate and control the public affairs of her husband Jason and one-time benefactor Creon, even if this ‘control’ amounts simply to destruction. Aristophanes' Lysistrata contains an equally compelling example of this kind of assertive behaviour by a heroine. Although, in general, the women of Lysistrata are comically licentious and capricious, the heroine herself is far more aware of the broader social implications of her actions (MacDowell, 1995). Again, like Medea, she initiates action, in her case a collective action, and, again like Medea, she utilises the private power she possesses to influence the public actions of men.

The actions of the women of Lysistrata betray a sense of pacifism on behalf of the dramatist. In having the women deny their husbands the pleasures of the private sphere until they stop killing each other in war, which is the ultimate expression of the public sphere (Saxonhouse, 1980, pp67.), Aristophanes not only shows the power that women possess, but is also subtly suggesting the need for a greater feminine influence on public affairs; “we don't need locked doors,” Lysistrata says, “but just the least bit of common sense.” (Lysistrata, Line 432-433). The “locked doors” of twenty years of war, and the failure of masculine ideals to end the war, had lead the playwright to question the value of those ideals. As Fox puts it, Aristophanes “unapologetically posits women as humanity's champion,” and is challenging his audience to ask “who indeed is best to save the city?” (2001, pp12.).

It is important not to over emphasise this point. As MacDowell points out, most of the time the women of Lysistrata are comically occupied with trivialities and, ultimately, are not suing for greater rights within the political sphere; Lysistrata is not a “feminist manifesto” (1995, pp248). However, it can be argued, particularly within the ancient Greek context, that the pacifist message alone represents a move away from traditional masculine ideals and a challenge to the conventions of the past.

In both of these examples it is clear that the authors are using the mythical and the ridiculous in order to make real, contemporary social criticisms. As Romilly has shown, this was not a new or unusual dramatic device (1985), and it helps to show the level of social awareness that the Greeks and their brilliant dramatists actually had. The two examples of Medea and Lysistrata show that the dramatists of the late fifth century Athens were beginning to challenge the traditional ideas about gender and the role of women in their society. In both instances the heroines act outside of social norms, exerting themselves explicitly within the private sphere and, in the case of Lysistrata the public one as well. Although Medea never physically leaves the confines of the private sphere, the ramifications of her actions certainly transcend it. The behaviour of these two heroines could only have served to challenge the male audience, and led them to question their own private relations and those of their society as a whole.























Reference List

Aristophanes, 1960, Lysistrata of Aristophanes: an English Version of the Comedy by Dudley Fitts, Faber and Faber Limited, London. 

Cohen, David, 1989, Seclusion, Separation, and the status of Women in Classical Athens, Greece & Rome, Vol 36., No 01, pp 03-15.

Esposito, Stephen, 2004, Introduction to Euripides: Medea, Hippolytus, Heracles, Bacchae, Focus Publishing, Newburyport Massachusetts.

Euripides, 2004, ‘Medea’ in Euripides, Four Plays: translation with notes and introduction, Focus Publishing, Newburyport Massachusetts

Fox, Mary-Jane, 2001, The Idea of Women in Peacekeeping: Lysistrata and Antigone, International Peacekeeping, Vol 08., No02., pp 09-22.

MacDowell, Douglas, 1995, Aristophanes and Athens: An Introduction to the Plays, Oxford University Press, New York.

Romilly, Jaqueline de, 1985, A Short History of Greek Literature, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago Illinois.

Saxonhouse, Arlene, 1980, Men, Women, War, and Politics: Family and Polis in Aristophanes and Euripides, Political Theory, Vol 8., No 01., pp 65-81.

Shaw, Michael, The Female Intruder: Women in Fifth-Century Drama, Classical Philology, Vol. 70., No 04., pp255-266.

Shirley, A. Barlow, 1989, Stereotype and Reversal in Euripides' 'Medea', Greece & Rome, Vol 36., No 02., pp 158-171.

Polybius: A Study in Historiography


 Polybius: A Study in Historiography

The importance of Polybius’ Histories as an historical source cannot be over-emphasised.  In terms of the middle to late Roman Republic, it is virtually the only contemporary source, making the extant books and fragments an invaluable resource for the students of history. However, there is another element to the Histories that adds to its importance—it’s place in, and what it teaches us about, historiography. Polybius was an educated Greek born into a tradition of historical writing that affected his Histories in terms of methodology, subject matter and form. The ways in which Polybius’ Histories both correlate with and deviate from those of the historians before him, mean that the Histories is as important as a study in historiography as it is in history itself. It can be said that a historiographical understanding of the Histories also adds to an understanding of Roman History, by helping to elucidate some of Polybius’ concerns and choices as a writer.

This essay, then, will look at key elements of Polybius’ Histories’ methods, subject matter and form, and attempt to identify some of the influences that led to their use in the Histories. Firstly, Polybius’ methodology will be looked at. Broadly, this can be said to be the process of the accumulation of facts, based on a hierarchy of approaches of accumulation. Secondly, Polybius’ subject matter will be noted. The fact that he wrote, for the most part, a political and military history will be the main theme here, as well as his choice of the Romans as the subject of his Histories. Finally, the reason for Polybius’ choice of ‘universal history’ as the basic form of the text will be looked at. This is, perhaps, the point at which Polybius most sharply diverges from his ancestors in the historical tradition, and is critical to an understanding of Polybius.

Polybius spoke to his audience more than any other historian from antiquity. This is what Sacks calls, outward-directional[1] history, and is very useful to the modern reader. One of the most common reasons that Polybius halts his narrative in order to speak to his audience is to explain his methods[2]. He often does this by either explaining why his approach is correct, or by explaining why the methods of other writers are wrong. The most obvious example of this is Book XII, where Polybius uses polemic to attack one of his most immediate predecessors Timaeus for, amongst other thing, his methods. Polybius believed that truth was the “leading quality of such books [Histories]”[3] and that there were three ways in which the truth, or facts, of history could be accumulated: 1) by witnessing the events oneself 2) by talking directly to those who witnessed the events 3) by reading.  This was also the order in which Polybius valued these methods. For Polybius, Timaeus was a bad historian because he had spent fifty years in a library in Athens[4] reading, instead of travelling, observing and questioning[5].

Polybius’ emphasis on the empirical observation and collection of facts goes back to the tradition of itinerate historians like Herodotus. Herodotus constructed his history by travelling and questioning people, combining geographical and ethnographical elements with history[6]. These methods are evident in Polybius. Conceding that no historian could possibly witness all that he describes, Polybius states that a historian must travel and interview those who did witness the events in question. Polybius realised that caution must be exercised in this process, and that the likelihood of the description must be weighed up by the historian[7]. This was an important methodological development that he probably inherited from Thucydides, who states the importance of this process explicitly[8]. It should also be noted that as a Greek exile living in Rome, Polybius would have had access to many useful sources of information. His relationship with Scipio would also likely have facilitated this[9]. Additionally, this relationship allowed Polybius to travel, which not only gave him the opportunity to talk to sources, but also to survey the lands and peoples that were the subject of his Histories[10]. He also attempted to reconstruct Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps by making the journey himself[11].

These travels and the interviewing of witnesses were central to Polybius’ methodology. It is no coincidence that he chose to start his history proper at a time that would have allowed him to interview people who directly witnessed the events[12]. In this way, Polybius again aligns himself with the second great figure of Greek historiography, Thucydides. For Polybius, the method of the interviewing of witnesses only yielded a worthwhile result if the witness actually saw the events he described. This is why he writes a predominantly contemporary history, and is where both Thucydides and Polybius sharply diverge from Herodotus. The introductory chapters of Polybius’ Histories are differentiated for this reason, as he was forced to rely on written sources for them; written sources that he criticises. For Polybius, then, the only worthwhile history is a contemporary one; however, this is not simply because a contemporary history is the only one that allows for proper methodology. It also speaks to broader questions that pertain directly to the purpose of history.  But before asking why, it is necessary to ask what, which takes us on to subject matter.

For Polybius, history was a record of the affairs of men. This belief was inherited from the historical tradition, starting with Herodotus and moving on to Thucydides. However, it is the latter that becomes the model for Polybius when the more specific subject of history is to be considered. For, like Thucydides, Polybius believed that the military and political affairs of men were the proper subject for history; he tells us this in the very first chapter of book one[13]. This passage shows that the two major concerns for Polybius, in investigating the success of the Romans, were their political and military arrangements[14]. It is no coincidence that the Histories’ first, and possibly most famous, digression[15] describes an idealized version of the political and military arrangements of the Romans. Like Thucydides, Polybius was a statesman—he was even directly involved in some of the public affairs that he described— and, as such, viewed political and military intrigues as the proper subject of history.  It is not surprising that Polybius saw in the Romans a subject that was worthy of his life’s work. The Romans were a truly great military and political force that had subjugated the known world, including his own state, in only 53 years. These issues of subject matter tell us much about Polybius and his interests; however, they also help to indicate one of the key reasons that Polybius wrote history; for him, history was instructive.

It is clear that Polybius had a utilitarian conception of history[16]. The example of Regulus in the First Punic War is an explicit declaration of this. Polybius believed in learning from the mistakes of the past, which may have been one of the reasons why he so admired the Romans[17]. One can probably assume that Polybius himself used the histories of his predecessors as instructive texts, which is somewhat paradoxical when his attack of Timaeus for being a library historian is considered. However, putting this aside, it is plain to see that by writing primarily about the political and military affairs of the Romans and the Hellenistic world, Polybius was trying to instruct his readers on how best to live the life of the statesman. This point has important ramifications for the nature of History. If a history is to be instructive it requires explication on the part of the author, in order for the reader to receive the lesson that is intended. Thucydides is an antecedent for this, but it is Polybius who takes it to its logical end—the historian can no longer simply state the facts as they occurred, but must also analyse these events in search of root causes and, as such, instructive value[18].

Broadly speaking then, for Polybius, history was to be based on facts, observed empirically, or accrued from the first-hand accounts of events by others, relying on written evidence as a last resort; the historian was to analyse political and military events and search for root causes, in order to show his readers the way to best conduct their own affairs. In short, history was to be instructive. However, this summary deals only with method and subject matter. For Polybius, there was still the vital question of form. Polybius believed that it was only through a ‘universal history’, a synthesis of events on an ecumenical scale, that true instructive value could be discerned by the reader[19]; and it was through the Romans that Polybius found a unifying historical force that allowed such a history to be written.

It is generally accepted that Polybius’ historiographical tendencies are most closely aligned with Thucydides[20].  However, as Derow has shown, there is one critical difference between the two; for Polybius, the discovery of root causes was the primary reason for writing history[21], and this meant that the monograph, the study of a single event in isolation, was not enough. For the root cause of history to be discovered, the scope of the study must encompass the full range of causes. Polybius was not the first to try to create such a unified history. He himself acknowledges Ephorus as his predecessor in the genre of ‘general’ or ‘universal history[22].  However, he is able to dismiss Ephorus’ attempt because he was writing about events that occurred so long ago that the possibility of accuracy was simply not there. In this sense Polybius’ methodological beliefs restricted him chronologically. This is why Polybius used the ascent of the Romans instead, to tell a geographically ecumenical history: “the Romans … succeeded in subjecting nearly the whole of the inhabited world to their sole government—a thing unique to history. “[23] This statement becomes telling when viewed within this context. It confirms the thesis that for Polybius the Romans were a subject worthy of a universal history. It can also be argued that the words “a thing unique to history”, betray the fact that Polybius was acutely aware of the historiographical context in which he was writing[24]—he was describing events that were unheard of in history, and, in so doing was writing something unheard of in historiography.  

There is no doubt that Polybius greatly admired the Romans. He was also an historian who was acutely aware of the tradition from which he emerged, a major part of which was the telling of epic tales for the sake of entertainment, of which the Roman story of ascent surely qualifies. However, Polybius was also aware that history had another, and in his view, more important function— to instruct— and so embarked on an ambitious work that was to cover the events of the entire known world, covering a time period of over a century. Polybius drew on the methods, subjects and forms of the past in order to, in a sense, transcend them and create something that had not been done before; and, in so doing, left us, the students of history, an invaluable text in both the historical and historiographical contexts.



[1] Sacks, 1981, 07
[2] For example: Polybius (P. from here), Histories Book I, 13 and Book II, 42.
[3] P. Histories, Book XII, 12, he goes on to use a classically Greek analogy: “as in the case of the living body if the eyes are put out the whole becomes useless, so if you take away truth from history what remains is but an unprofitable fable.”
[4] P. Histories, Book XII, 25d
[5] P. Histories, Book XII, 27
[6] Duff, 2003, 16
[7] P. Histories, Book XII, 28a
[8] Duff, 2003, 28
[9] Walbank, 1972, 10
[10] Pliny, Nat. History, Vol 9: “When Scipio Aemilianus was in command in Africa Polybius the historian went round in a squadron furnished by the general for the purpose of exploring that continent …”
[11] P. Histories, Book III, 48
[12] Walbank, 1972,
[13] P. Histories Book I, Chapter 01: “For who is so worthless or indolent as not to wish to know by what means and under what system of polity the Romans in less than fifty-three years have succeeded in subjecting nearly the whole inhabited world to their sole government—a thing unique to history.”
[14] The term “by what means” refers to the Roman military.
[15] P. Histories Book VI
[16] P. Histories Book I, 35: Of Regulus, “This I mention for the sake of the improvement of the readers of history. For there are two ways by which all men can reform themselves, the one through their own mischances, the other through those of others, and although the former is more impressive, the latter the less hurtful.”
[17] P. Histories, Book VI, 10: The Romans have achieved an ideal system of governance “by the discipline of many struggles and troubles, and always choosing the best light of experienced gained in disaster … “
[18] P. Histories, Book XII, 25b: “for the mere statement of a fact may interest us but is of no benefit to us: but when we add the cause of it, a study of history becomes fruitful.” For Polybius on causes see Histories Book III, 06-09
[19] Sacks, 1981, 109, P. Histories Book I, 04
[20] Walbank, 1972, 40, Duff, 2003, 59, Derow
[21] Derow, 1994, 86
[22] P. Histories, Book V, 33
[23] P. Histories, Book I, 01
[24] His continual criticisms of his predecessors also help to confirm this.