Despite what has just been said, we have a fairly good idea of the form and style of the Athenian version of the genre (the Atthis), and no good reason to think that other states’ histories were much different. We owe this knowledge not only to the fragments of the individual authors, but also to the comments of ancient scholars, especially Dionysius of Hahcarnassus. At the end of the preface to his Roman Antiquities, he distinguishes the form of his history from others, specifically those that are exclusively about wars or constitutions and ‘‘the chronicles, which those who have written the Atthides have published’’ (AR 1.8.3). A later scholar elaborates on the nature of these ‘‘chronicles’’ in a note on one of the authors, Philochorus, stating that ‘‘he encompasses the deeds of the Athenians and their kings and archons’’ (Suda s. v. ‘‘Philochorus’’). Finally, the surviving fragments of the authors of the Atthides (the Atthidographers: Hellanicus, Cleidemus, Androtion, Phanodemus, Demon, Melanthius, Philochorus, Ister) and the works derived from them clarify what is meant: the Atthidographers structured their work around the reigns of kings and the magistracies of archons (cf. Harding 1994: 3-6). Some idea of what this might have looked like in a bare-bones form, but with chronographic data added, can be seen from later chronologies that were in part derived from or based upon the Atthis, such as the Parian Marble (FGrHist 239), the Chronica of Apollodorus (FGrHist 240), or that of Castor of Rhodes (FGrHist 250). Castor preserves the only complete list of Athenian kings and his work was itself a source for Eusebius’ Chronica (Mosshammer 1979: 130) and, probably through him, of Syncellus’ great chronography of world history from the creation onward (Adler and Tuffin 2002: lv-lxix).
The relationship between a chronology and a local history (chronicle) can be illustrated by comparing the first entry in the Parian Marble with known fragments of an Atthis, that of Philochorus, since his work is the best preserved. In its heading the Parian Marble announces that it is recording ‘‘dates,’’ starting from the time of Cecrops, ‘‘who first was king over the Athenians, down to the archonship...of Diognetos at Athens’’ (264/3 bce). It then records as its first entry (FGrHist 239 A 1) that 1,318 years before Diognetos (i. e., 1556 bce) ‘‘Cecrops became king of Athens and the land got the name Cecropia, which had previously been called Aktike, after Aktaios, the autochthon.’’ Both king and archon are typical of the Atthis, as is the historical note, but the chronographic calculation is the result of Hellenistic Alexandrian scholarship. On the other hand, the local historian’s entry under Cecrops was far more varied in its scope and detail. We know from FF 92-97 of Philochorus’ history that he discussed Ogygos and Aktaios, the precursors of Cecrops, and, unlike the Parian Marble (the author of which had clearly used a different Atthis), denied the existence of the latter (F 92); that he attempted to rationalize Cecrops’ nickname, ‘‘bi-form,’’ by suggesting that he had an extra large body or that he spoke two languages (F 93); that he believed that Cecrops brought the people together into twelve communities (poleis), because the land was being attacked by the Carians and the Boeotians, and he has given us the names of the twelve cities (F 94); that he attributed a primitive form of census to Cecrops, by way of explaining a proverbial expression (F 95), and that he considered him the founder of the cult of Kronos and Rhea in Attica (F 97).
No doubt Philochorus had more to say about Cecrops, but this is all that remains. He proceeded to give similarly detailed entries under each successive king, listing them by name in family relationships (e. g., son, brother), in the manner of the
Genealogists (for the full list see Harding 1994: 4-5). There is insufficient evidence to show that he (or any Atthidographer) calculated the length of a reign any more precisely than by generations or subdivided it into separate years. By contrast, the chronographer claimed to know such data and listed his events by dates. In sum, the chronicler and the chronographer used the same material, but for different purposes. For the chronicler, the names of kings served as a framework upon which to develop a narrative of a state’s mythical past.
This is no less true when we reach the time of annual magistracies. In Athens this took the form of the eponymous archons, whose names had been kept from the time of the first holder of the office (Creon in 683/2) and had been published on a marble stele sometime in the last quarter of the fifth century. In other states the eponymous office had different titles, but they were similarly preserved and served the same function. As Jacoby was at great pains to demonstrate (1949: 86-99, 169-176), these lists were merely names and were not accompanied by historical notes; nevertheless, they became the framework for what may be loosely termed the ‘‘historical’’ part of a local history (Harding 1994: 3). The format employed was that the heading for a given year was marked by the name of the magistrate, accompanied by some specific identification, wherever known. For example, in the case of Athens, archons’ names are often accompanied by their demotic (deme-name), at least for the post-Cleisthenic period. Following that, the first entry under that name was introduced by the formula ‘‘in the term of office of this man....’’ Other events of that same year were listed in chronological order. An excellent example of this format can be seen in Dionysius’ first Letter to Ammaeus (9), where three separate parts of the Athenian response to Philip of Macedon’s attack on Olynthus were cited verbatim from Philochorus’ account of the year of Callimachus from Pergase (349/8). These were excerpted by Dionysius from an annual account that clearly contained intervening material that broke up the narrative of the Olynthian war, because it had to be inserted in chronological sequence. The passage is so important as an illustration of the method and style of the horographer that it deserves to be quoted in full:
As Philochorus makes clear in the sixth book of his Atthis, writing verbatim as follows: “Callimachus from Pergase: In this man’s term of office the Athenians made an alliance with the people of Olynthus, who were under attack by Philip and had sent ambassadors to Athens; as assistance they dispatched 2,000 peltasts and the 30 triremes that were with Chares, and they manned 8 others as well.’’ Then after narrating a few intervening events he continues: ‘‘About the same time, since the Chalcidians in Thrace were being worn down by the war and had sent an embassy to Athens, the Athenians sent Charidemus, the general in the Hellespont, to assist them. With 18 triremes, 4,000 light-armed troops and 150 cavalry he joined the Olynthians in invading Pallene and Bottiaea and laid waste the land.’’ Further on he writes the following about the third alliance: ‘‘Once again the Olynthians sent ambassadors to Athens and were beseeching (them) not to overlook the fact that they had been exhausted by war, but to send them help in addition to the forces already there. This help should not be composed of mercenaries, but of Athenians themselves. The Athenians sent them 17 additional triremes, 2,000 citizen-hoplites and 300 citizen-cavalry in horse-transports. Chares was the general in charge of the whole expedition.”
This excerpt demonstrates not only how a chronicler organized his material within his annual entries but also how he showed their temporal relationship to one another (e. g., ‘‘about the same time’’) and connected two related incidents that had been separated by intrusive data (e. g., ‘‘once again’’). It also shows that the chronicler did not write just notes but complete sentences with subordinate clauses. Nevertheless, at the same time it justifies Dionysius’ criticism that the style of the chronicle was ‘‘monotonous and hard for the reader to stomach’’ (AR 1.8.3).
World History
