Having considered both explicit and implicit allusions to Hecataeus and prose traditions, let us finish this chapter by considering two other episodes which raise further questions vis-à- vis Herodotus’ relationship with sixth- and fifth-century geographic discourse. The aforementioned passage in which Herodotus elaborates on the formation of Egypt (2.5) provided just one instance amongst many in the Histories in which Herodotus refers to his own autopsy, or others’ first-hand knowledge, in order to reject standard Greek views.106 Perhaps the most well-known of these is his contemptuous rejection of those map makers who attempt to show that a) the ocean flows round a spherical earth, and b) that Asia and Europe are of equal size (4.36f.):
γελῶ δὲ ὁρέων γῆς περιόδους γράψαντας πολλοὺς ἤδη καὶ οὐδένα νοονεχόντως
ἐξηγησάμενον: οἳ Ὠκεανόν τε ῥέοντα γράφουσι πέριξ τὴν γῆν ἐοῦσαν κυκλοτερέα ὡς ἀπὸ τόρνου, καὶ τὴν Ἀσίην τῇ Εὐρώπῃ ποιεύντων ἴ σην. ἐν
104 Pearson (1939) 34.
105 The ancient tract by Pollio entitled On the Thefts of Herodotus almost certainly accused Herodotus of stealing whole logoi from Hecataeus.
106 Book Three offers a particularly splendid example in which this is inverted; it is precisely the lack of sight that is the root cause of ignorance. Phaidymiē (‘Shiny’), the daughter of the Persian nobleman Otanes and one of the members of the false Smerdis’ harem, when quizzed by her father about the true identity of the man who lies at her side in bed, responds meekly: οὔτε γὰρ τὸν Κύρου Σμέρδιν ἰ δέσθαι οὐδαμὰ οὔτε ὅστις εἴ η ὁ συνοικέων αὐτῇ εἰ δέναι (3.68.4). Hence Herodotus shows that the false Smerdis, who we are told neither descends from the acropolis nor summons a Persian nobleman into his sight (3.68.2), is acutely aware of the need to inhibit sight in order to maintain his bogus rule, thus reinforcing the primacy of opsis as a way of acquiring knowledge in Herodotus. For good discussions, see Demont (2009) 193-5, focusing on the double verification of both Otanes’ and Herodotus’ inquiry here, and Purves (forthcoming), whose analysis is part of a larger inquiry into interior scenes in Herodotus.
ὀλίγοισι γὰρ ἐγὼ δηλώσω μέγαθός τε ἑκάστης αὐτέων καὶ οἵ η τις ἐστὶ ἐς γραφὴν ἑκάστη.
I laugh when I see the many men who have drawn maps of the earth up until now, not one of whom has described it sensibly. They draw the river Ocean flowing around a circular earth, as if by a compass,107 and they make Asia and Europe equal in size. For I will show in a few words the proportions of each of them, and how each should be outlined. (4.36.2).
This scathing attack on schematic depictions of the earth clearly evokes the opening to Hecataeus’ Γενεαλογί αι discussed above, with Herodotus similarly referencing his own laughter (γελῶ) and the many senseless Greek theories (γράψαντας πολλοὺς...οὐδένα νοονεχόντως),108
as well as his transition away from others’ views towards his own (γὰρ
ἐγὼ δηλώσω).109 And indeed, the fragments further strengthen our reading of a pointed allusion to Hecataeus, since they indicate that he depicted a circumambient Ocean on his own map (FGrHist 1 F 18, 36, 302).110
Of course, we hardly need reminding that Hecataeus was not the only figure concerned with depicting the earth. In a much-cited testimonium (DK 12.A.6), Agathemerus, following Eratosthenes, records that:
Anaximander the Milesian, pupil of Thales, first dared to draw (γράψαι) the inhabited world on a writing tablet (πί νακι). After him, the Milesian Hecataeus, a much-
107 On Herodotus’ criticism of the reliance on mathematical instruments, see the salutary discussion in Purves (2010) 111-12, who well goes on to show the different complexions of the verb graphein in this passage, used negatively to denote map-makers’ drawings, and then positively in order to describe Herodotus’ own superior verbal exposition (δηλώσω…ἐς γραφὴν) (128).
108 An expression that recalls Heraclitus’ critique of Hecataeus, that is, his lack of νόος, see above p.21. Cf. also Herodotus’ description of Xerxes’ attempts to obscure the true number of Persian dead after Thermopylae as γελοῖ ον.
109 Boedeker (2000) 107, Rösler (2002) 88-9.
110 So Jacoby (1912) 2702-7, Jacob (2006) 130f., (more broadly) Corcella ad.36-45; contra, though not entirely ruling out Hecataeus, Thomas (2000) 78-9, 215-6, who appears to miss the linguistic intertexts between the two writers. Anaximander of Miletus, the first map-maker according to Eratosthenes (as preserved by Agathemerus and Strabo), also produced a circular image of the earth (DK 13 A10, B5); see further Naddaf (2002) 32f., (and for its relationship with other works by Anaximander) Purves (2010) 109, n.35. Pearson (1939) even suggests that this was the very πί ναξ that Aristagoras used to try and gain the support of king Cleomenes in the Ionian Revolt (28), Armayor (2004) 324f. suggests Hecataeus’ corrected version. For an excellent discussion on Anaximander and early Greek cartography, see now Purves (2010) 97-117, cf. Munn (2006) 184-8.
travelled man, corrected it (ἀνὴρ πολυπλανὴς διηκρί βωσεν); and hence the object was to be marvelled at (θαυμασθῆναι).111
Whether Hecataeus simply criticised or modified this map is not entirely clear, but his objection to Anaximander’s version shows that Herodotus’ polemical persona is a fairly widespread technique used in intellectual discourse during the fifth century; he was part of a rich tradition in which people were refining their practices, and trying to outdo the achievements of their predecessors, so as to elicit their own thōma.112 Agathemerus’ developmental sketch thus reinforces the obvious point that Hecataeus did not exist in a vacuum and that others were no doubt lying behind Herodotus’ mordant excursus.113
Indeed Munn even comments on how Anaximander’s thought, characterised by ‘geometric simplicity and cosmogonic oppositions’, betrays the kind of schematic viewpoint that Herodotus is at pains to correct.114 But while it is prudent to map out the wider circle of figures that were propounding such ideas about the earth, Herodotus’ sardonic riff on Hecataeus’ famous proem indubitably sensitises his audience to the disparities between his own historical project and other, two-dimensional cartographic works, best exemplified by his Ionian predecessor. Such a contrast implicitly suggests that Herodotus has replaced Hecataeus, the latter now reduced to one of the impotent, ‘many Greeks’ that he himself originally disparaged.
Just a few chapters later, Herodotus reiterates his surprise at others’ methods of mapping Libya, Asia, and Europe (θωμάζω ὦν τῶν διουρισάντων καὶ διελόντων Λιβύην τε καὶ
Ἀσίην καὶ Εὐρώπην, 4.42.1),115 since the differences in size between these continents are considerable. He then proceeds with his own description of the three continents’ varying proportions. Libya, he writes, is surrounded by the sea, other than where it borders Asia. Rather than produce a cartographic or mathematical description to support his argument, he
111 For a conjectural reconstruction of Anaximander’s and Hecataeus’ maps, see Munn (2006) 187, 215 respectively.
112 On Herodotus’ mode of argument and polemic, and its resonances in contemporary philosophical and medical writers, see Thomas (2000) 213-21. Whilst Thomas clearly illustrates the importance of these works on his project, we might well question her central proposition that Herodotus is especially polemical when espousing controversial ideas (esp.217f.).
113 To these we may add Damastes of Sigeum, though note that Agathemerus’ testimonium which specifically records (FGrHist 5 T 4): ‘Δαμάστες ὁ Σιγειεὺς τὰ πλεῖ στα ἐκ τῶν Ἡκαταιου μεταγράψας Περί πλουν ἔγραψεν. One might question from this whether Herodotus believed that other thinkers had even improved on Hecataeus’ work.
114 Munn (2006) 186. Cf. Jacob (2006) 130f., who reads this is a clear marker of an evolution in Greek rationality, since Herodotus subscribes to ‘methodical research that forbids inventing a line for unknown shores’ (p.131).
115
Note the change from 36.2, with the addition of Libya as a third continent—a view popular in Herodotus’ time (cf. 2.16). Thomas (2000) 80-6 focuses primarily on the influence that the contemporary nomos-physis antithesis exerts on Herodotus’ account of the different continents.
refers to a story about the Egyptian king Neco who was ostensibly the first to discover this (πρώτου τῶν ἡμεῖ ς ἴ δμεν καταδέξαντος, 4.42.2), precisely because he had sent out a Phoenician sailing crew that circumnavigated all of the southern sea before returning to Egypt (4.42.3-4).116 From here he describes a failed circumnavigation of Libya by Sataspes the Achaemenian; Darius’ discoveries concerning Asian geography, having sent out an expeditionary force led by Scylax; and finally the widespread aporia regarding both the specific geography of Europe and the etymology of the three continents’ names (4.43-5).117 Concluding this lengthy excursus, he remarks piously, ταῦτα μέν νυν ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον εἰ ρήσθω: τοῖ σι γὰρ νομιζομένοισι αὐτῶν χρησόμεθα (4.45.5).
The combined force of this episode is not to be underestimated. Herodotus swiftly demonstrates how overly stereographic, symmetrical thinking is not part of the historian’s
ordre du jour—even if we might detect such modes of thinking elsewhere in his Histories
(such as when the Egyptians are imagined as the polar opposite of the rest of mankind, 2.35- 6).118 His rather more cumbersome description of the continents, reliant on information gained from those with direct experience (such as the Phoenician sailing crew [4.42.2] and Scylax of Karyanda [4.44.2]119—an approach which in turn limits what he is able to say about the under-explored continent Europe [ἡ δὲ Εὐρώπη πρὸς οὐδαμῶν φανερή ἐστι γινωσκομένη, 4.45.1]) reaffirms the limitations of cartographic evidence, and the importance of providing the reader a panoptical, multi-subjective account that does not misrepresent the miasma induced by historiē.120 In this sense, Branscome is wrong to argue that Herodotus is merely criticising contemporary map-maker’s attempts to depict the earth, rather than rejecting maps tout court;121 his altogether different approach to geography sheds a fundamental theoretical opposition to maps, which falsely reduce the complexity of the world to the blink of an eye.122
116 Throughout this excursus Herodotus gives reports that describe various aspects of the journeys people took in order to theorise about geography; Purves (2010) (esp.144-58) well characterises this as a more ‘hodological’ approach to geography.
117 For ‘correct naming’ in the latter half of the fifth century, see Thomas (2000) 84-5, 230. 118
On ‘Herodotus' taste for symmetry’, see Redfield (1985) 103-5, and passim, Hartog (1988). 119 Potentially an indication that Herodotus knew Scylax’s (mostly lost) report of his voyage undertaken for Darius; cf. FGrHist 709 F1-7.
120 Similarly, Meier (1987) 44. Corcella 555 has also shown that Herodotus’ description of Olbia, which seems to be at least partially constructed from Olbian sources (cf. 4.18.1; 24; 78.3), is on the whole fairly accurate; and as such, Corcella argues, it is likely that he went there in order to gain first- hand experience in order to confirm and contradict those Greek sources—Hecataeus and Aristeas of Proconnesus included—which described the outer regions of the oikoumenē. On the poet Aristeas and his Arimaspea, an important source for a considerable portion of Herodotus’ Scythian logos, see further Corcella 548ff., West (2004a), Marincola (2007) 65-6.
121 Branscome (2010) 9.
This extended polemic against map-makers must necessarily be read in conjunction with another cartographic scene (5.49-51): Herodotus’ (in)famous depiction of Aristagoras’ (failed) attempt to inveigle Sparta into supporting the Ionians, so that they might march against the Persians in order to liberate themselves from slavery (ῥύσασθε...ἐκ δουλοσύνης, 5.49.3),123 carrying a ‘map of the earth’ (γῆς περί οδος, 5.49.1) to aid his plight.124 Following some initial, grave invocations, Aristagoras employs powerful rhetoric, stating the Persians would be easy to defeat (εὐπετέως, εὐπετέες, 5.49.3-4)125, before showing how the Asians all live next to one another, deictically showing various places on his map (πίνακι),126
thus minimising the geographical distance between Sparta and Susa. He finishes by reiterating that the Spartans would ‘easily (εὐπετέως) assume the rule of all of Asia’ (5.49.8). However, as Purves notes, Cleomenes’ subsequent decision to ponder Aristagoras’ appeals and give an answer in two days’ time limits the ‘spellbinding ability [of the map] to stop narrative time’.127
The effects of this rupture are clearly felt when, after making a ‘false step’ by revealing the truth (τὸ ἐόν) in their subsequent meeting, observing that the journey from the Ionian shore to Susa would take three months, Aristagoras is swiftly despatched by the Spartan king (5.50.2-3). Still not dissuaded, Aristagoras makes one last indecorous attempt by means of monetary persuasion, attempting to bribe Cleomones with a sum of 50 Talents, but once again failing after Cleomones’ daughter shrewdly compels her father to part company with the Milesian (5.51). And so it transpires that Aristagoras’ map, like the
logopoios Hecataeus’ ethnographic advice at 5.36, fails to persuade his interlocutors.
But just as Herodotus provides his own exegesis on existing knowledge concerning the continents in Book Four, similarly, he proceeds here with his own elaborate description (ἔχει γὰρ ἀμφὶ τῇ ὁδῷ ταύτῃ ὧδε, 5.52.1) of the journey that Aristagoras had almost entirely erased by the use of his map. His account provides much more thorough information
123 For this episode I have found the following especially valuable: Munson (2001) 209, Harrison (2007) 44-5, Pelling (2007a), Branscome (2010), Purves (2010) 118-58, esp.132-40; cf. Hollmann (2011) 214, and the useful summary in Dewald (1998) 671-2.
124 Cf. the similar mockery of the γῆς περίοδος (v.206) in Aristoph. Nu. 206-17. 125
Bettalli (2005) 235: ‘Aristagora…non manca di sottolineare la debolezza militare della fanteria persiani’. See also the remarkably similar scene at 9.90.2-3, where Hegesistratus (‘army-leading’), son of Aristagoras (‘best-speaker’, but probably not the one in Book Five, cf. Pelling [2007] 182, n.12), (successfully) persuades the Spartan king Leutychidas to join the Greek alliance before Mycale, arguing that the sight of the Greek fleet would rouse the Ionians into rebellion against the Persians, so that they would easily (εὐπετές) quash any Persian attack. For the sophisticated narrative patternation here, see further Pelling (2007a) 182, (2011) 13. For a wider, though not exhaustive, investigation into names which convey a negative, positive, or ironical meaning for the referent in Herodotus, see Hollmann (2011) pp.143-62, rightly tracing onomastic wordplay as far back as Homer (144, n.227), cf. the general remarks in Thomas (2000) 83.
126 See Purves (2010) 135f. on this scene as an ekphrasis. 127 Purves (2010) 136.
concerning important junctures on the Royal Road,128 listing the distance travelled in each stage, as well as a number of remarkable topographical and geographical features en route
(5.52-4),129 so that, yet again, the direct experience of the traveller emerges as a more trustworthy source than the deceptive map. Indeed, after describing the Royal Road, he remarks that Aristagoras had spoken correctly (ὀρθῶς) in giving a time of three months for the journey, but immediately undermines this by adding that for those wishing for more specific calculations, ἐγὼ καὶ τοῦτο σημανέω (5.54.1).130 And so he ends his account resoundingly: ‘I say’ (λέγω) that the total distance of the journey is 14,040 furlongs, adding three days onto Aristagoras’ (imprecise) figure (καὶ οὕτω τρισὶ ἡμέρῃσι μηκύνεται ἡ τρίμηνος ὁδός, 5.54.2). Hence Herodotus’ more accurate version serves to replace that of his rival, an implicit indication also that his own textualised account is superior to the oral account offered by Aristagoras.131
To review: Herodotus’ polemic against map-makers in these two passages is another way in which the historian demarcates the boundaries of his own literary activity. Whilst his description of the continents betrays a more piquant criticism of maps qua maps than does his report of Aristagoras’ failure to persuade the Spartans (although the latter passage’s emphasis on the manipulation of maps certainly suggests their limitations as speechless evidence), both combined represent a much more profound fissure than Branscome’s view that ‘[in these passages] map-makers are in a sense Herodotus’ rivals as investigators in the field of geography’ would suggest.132 The virtuoso critique on display surely implies a much less collegial attitude; for Herodotean historiē renders such prose works unsuitable for serious geographical exegesis, and entirely incompatible with his own contribution to ‘the vast field of memory’.133