Introduction

It would be difficult to over-emphasize the importance of speech in Greek and Roman life. Classical societies were dominated by the spoken word: facility and accomplishment in speaking were, after military achievement, the greatest glories one could win, and assured the way to success and renown. Already in Homer, the heroes are ‘‘speakers of words and doers of deeds’’ (Il. 9.443), and figures such as Nestor and Odysseus embody the communal value of effective speaking. With words one gave advice to friends, allies, fellow-citizens, or even kings and despots; one supported others in the courts either by composing speeches for those on trial (as in Athens) or taking the position oneself of being prosecutor or defender (as in Rome). From the earliest period of Greek literature poets were enamored of the word and its ability to influence events, and with the systematic study of rhetoric, ‘‘specialists’’ sought to provide, by means of rules, assistance for those embarking upon public life. The word, of course, both in Greece and Rome, flourished most in those periods when the people or the elite had a measure of political freedom, and matters were debated and explored openly. Closed societies and autocratic governments, by contrast, provoked a crisis in the aristocracy, precisely because free speech had to be curtailed and speakers needed to be careful lest they give offense to the powerful.

Thus it is no surprise that ancient historiographical works are full of speech - it is already in Hecataeus (FGrHist 1 F 30) - and not only brief remarks, intimate dialogues, and individual conversations but also (and perhaps especially) full-scale public debates. There were, to be sure, criticisms about the inclusion ofspeeches, but these were mainly aesthetic, having to do with the frequency of long speeches in direct discourse: these were judged to impede the action and break up the unity of a historical work (Cratippus, FGrHist 64 F 1; Diod. 20.1.1-2.2; Trog. F 152 = Just.

38.3.10; Gran. Lic. 36.30-32). It would never have occurred to any historian to write a narrative history wholly without reported speech.

Although oratory and history were seen as formally distinct genres (Brunt 1980), there was nevertheless a close correlation between the orator and the historian, for at least two reasons: first, the basis for all education in antiquity was rhetorical, i. e., geared towards giving public men the tools by which they could effectively address their colleagues and fellow-citizens, and also create works of literary merit. Second, and perhaps no less important, historians as public men themselves will often have given actual speeches: when Thucydides, Polybius, Xenophon, Sallust, Tacitus, Arrian, or Ammianus set pen to papyrus, it was not the first time that they were ‘‘composing’’ speeches. Even historians without a political career will, as members of their city-state, have listened to and been involved in discussions. Yet whether experienced or not, at the point where he introduced a speech into his history, the historian became (or became once again) an ‘‘orator.’’

The uses of speech in history were as great and as far-reaching as in real life, although certain uses tend to predominate. Speeches indicated the reasons and rationale of the historical characters, why they did what they did and with what aims, goals, and expectations. In a genre that relied greatly on sequential narrative, speeches could also provide a more abstract analysis of the underlying issues at stake in actions that were seen as important or distinctive. In Thucydides, for example, the debate of Cleon and Diodotus (3.37-48) treats not just the particular fate of the Mytileneans but also the issues at stake in how any state should treat its subjects, and how it should conceive of its own self-interest. In a different historical milieu, Sallust’s Cato and Caesar likewise (and in imitation of Thucydides) debate the issues at stake in a state divided by civil war, discussing not only the fate of the current captives, but also the precedents they will establish, and how that will affect the future ( Cat. 51-52). Debates might even be framed in such a way as to approach deliberately a kind of ‘‘universal’’ relevance: the analysis of monarchy, oligarchy, and democracy in Herodotus’ Constitutional Debate (3.80) or the contrast between monarchy and oligarchy voiced by Maecenas and Agrippa in Cassius Dio (52.1-40) are examples of how historiographical speeches could become political, almost philosophical, analyses in miniature. For the Romans, often criticized for the provinciality and one-sidedness of their historiography, speeches attributed to enemies provided an opportunity to present the viewpoints of Rome’s opponents, and thereby engage in a form of critical political analysis relevant to both the particular situation and the more general issues involved with empire and imperialism (see, e. g., Sall. Hist. 4.69 [Mithridates]; Livy 9.1 [Herennius Pontius]; Tac. Agr. 30-32 [Calgacus]; Ann. 12.37 [Caratacus]; cf. Balsdon 1979: 182-185).

Quite aside from this, speech also characterizes the speaker, by indicating his or her frame of mind and disposition. ‘‘As is men’s speech, so is their lives’’ (Sen. Ep. 114.1; cf. D. Hal. AR 1.1.3) was a truism for the ancients, and the historian could reveal a character’s nature by the type of speech he composed for him. This aspect might especially come to the fore in those times and under those political systems in which liberty was curtailed, and in which the effectiveness ofspeech as a motivator for action was impaired. If the Roman Senate of the empire lacked real power to influence events in the way that their ancestors had, a historian might nevertheless record their speeches as a way of both characterizing the individuals who spoke and illuminating the relationship between this elite class and the emperor who wielded the power (cf. Tac. Ann. 3.65.1 where he claims he will record only those speeches ‘‘distinguished for honesty or of notable shamelessness’’). And one did not need a full-dress speech for this: short and pithy remarks could also indicate a man’s nature. Plutarch’s belief (Alex. 1.2) that a jest or phrase reveals more about character than victory in battles was already known and exploited by historians. Theramenes’ witty remarks before his death revealed his self-possession (Xen. Hell. 2.3.56), while Arrian often relates brief conversations that illuminate Alexander’s nature (e. g., 4.20, 5.18, 7.1.5-6, and esp. 2.12.8). The use of speeches served aesthetic ends as well: they marked out dramatic moments, the crucial points when important matters hung in the balance, or they built up suspense by retarding the forward movement of the narrative.