The use of historical works in grammatical and rhetorical schools allows us to pinpoint the main recipients of historical works among the social classes that had access to instruction. However, this apparently obvious formulation must be integrated and made more precise. First, the logoi of Herodotus were meant for public readings, in which a fairly heterogeneous public that was not necessarily very cultured could participate. The practice of public readings of historians continues for the whole of antiquity (Chaniotis 1988: 365-382) and is attested for the Middle Ages as well. Historical works were never school books in the modern sense: as we have seen, they could be utilized in different phases of instruction and for distinct tasks, but, with few exceptions (I refer to the didactic poems and synthetic manuals mentioned above, p. 22), were not conceived as a help for teaching. Those who had received the regular grammatical and rhetorical instruction could read historiography, but the reasons that impelled them to do so were very different. Polybius offers a possible picture of the potential public of historiography, based on their tastes and experiences (9.1.2-5, Paton tr., with modifications):
I am not unaware that my work, owing to the uniformity of its composition, has a certain severity and will suit the taste and gain the approval of only one class of reader. For nearly all other writers, or at least most of them, by dealing with every branch of history, attract many kinds of people to the perusal of their works. The genealogical side appeals to those who are fond of a story, and the account of colonies (apoikiai), the foundations of cities (ktiseis) and their ties of kinship (suggeneiai), such as we find, for instance, in Ephorus, attracts the curious and lovers of recondite material, but accounts of the doings (praxeis) of nations, cities, and rulers attracts the political man (politikos). As I have confined my attention strictly to these last matters and as my whole work treats of nothing else, it is, as I say, adapted only to one sort of audience, and reading it will have no attraction for the majority of people.
Polybius explains and updates Thucydides’ general formulation (1.22.4: ‘‘in the hearing, the lack of a mythic element will perhaps seem less pleasurable’’) about the lack of success that he foresaw with regard to the public, and briefly delineates the sociology of the readers of history: the reader eager for stories is attracted by genealogies, the curious one by apoikiai, ktiseis, and suggeneiai, the one who deals with politics by praxeis. The reader defined as politikos is the one who wants to participate in public life or at least wants to understand the mechanics of it. His passion is not just a simple passion for fascinating reading or the curiosity of local history; rather, it is the matter of a reader who searches for utility, who does not look too much for elegance of style, who asks the historian to contribute to his formation as a citizen - all in all, a man of power. The portrait delineated by Polybius corresponds more to his ideal reader, to the public to whom the author wishes to address himself, than to a specific public. Interesting nonetheless is the schematic distinction between historians who deal with various topics in order to win over readers, and the almost completely isolated historian who concentrates on praxeis. We find ourselves before a customary binary opposition between pleasure (delectatio) and utility (utilitas), part of the programmatic remarks of Thucydides and one of the constants not only of historiographical theory, but also of ancient literature more generally. Polybius recognizes his relative isolation, but far from lamenting it, he embraces it: his aspiration is to emulate Thucydides, the great model whom he only once mentions in the surviving books.
Like many other Greek historians, Polybius was an exile, a man who held important positions, but when he writes his work, he is far distant from active political life. That many historians were concerned with the experience of exile was already noticed by Plutarch (Exil. 14, 605C), although over time the conditions under which historians worked changed (cf. Porciani 1997: viii: ‘‘After Thucydides the historians appear very integrated in the political and cultural texture of Greece’’; cf. also Porciani 2001b: 25, 33-35). The Roman historians, although with few exceptions (Cato, Tacitus) part of the governing class, did not occupy political offices of the first rank (for the republican age see La Penna 1978: 43-104). Some dedicated themselves to historiography after abandoning active politics (Sallust, Asinius Pollio). Distance favors critical analysis, and, in some cases, one could think that historiography was felt as a sort of continuation of politics by other means (so Syme 1958b; Porciani 1997: viii): the political man who failed in action ennobles himself by becoming an educator of the ruling class and creating for himself an authoritative role. The principate radicalized the historian’s position: some took sides with the emperors, falling at times into encomium (Velleius Paterculus), while others opposed them in the name of republican ideals (Titus Labienus, Cremutius Cordus), and the greatest historian of this period, Tacitus, tried to get to the roots of the empire by taking an increasingly pessimistic position. The censorship exercised by the government towards these authors is a new aspect of the ancient link between historiography and politics.
The position taken by historians in their confrontation with the power of the empire introduces another key theme, that of their relation to political power. The habitual attitude of the ancient historian was of keeping a certain distance from the events he narrated, and this contributed to the construction of his character as impartial and authoritative. However, there were many different positions: some historians (like Callisthenes and Ptolemy, the first historians of Alexander, who accompanied him in his enterprise) were involved personally in the events they narrated; others dedicated themselves to the genre of commentarii, supplying a partial version of the story focused on the author/protagonist; still others, like the historians of the opposition in the Imperial Age, exalted the ancient tyrannicides, such as Brutus and Cassius, and the martyrs who fell in defense of republican freedom. With these historians, unfortunately lost, history becomes in some way a testimony that keeps memory alive and shapes conscience. The term memoria, in fact, recurs with insistence in the prologue of Tacitus’ Agricola. The surviving historian (3.2: ‘‘we are the survivors not only of others but also of ourselves’’) denounces the effects of Domi-tian’s oppression, of which only the memory survives (2.3: ‘‘we would have lost memory itself together with our voice, if it had been as much in our power to forget as to be silent’’), and concludes (3.3):
Yet it will not be an unpleasant task to compose, even in an uncouth and rough style, the memory of our past slavery and a testimony of our present blessings. In the meantime this book, dedicated to the honor of my father-in-law Agricola, will be praised or perhaps excused as a profession of piety.
The role of historiography acquires a profound ethical dimension that is not limited to traditional moral judgment, but in difficult times takes for itself the task of preserving and transmitting memory. The historian is witness of the virtus of Agricola and it is his own pietas that is the most intimate justification for the work he has undertaken. One can see that same appeal to the function of history as testimony in the authors of the Gospels and Acts of the Apostles, who, at just about the same time, founded a religious doctrine based on the memory of events and of Jesus’ teaching that moved beyond history towards transcendence.
FURTHER READING
The problem of locating historical knowledge and the historiographic genre in Greek and Roman culture is studied, sometimes superficially, in the main histories of ancient historiography. Generally in these investigations, the link between historiography and contemporary society gains more attention in the Roman world than in the Greek one: a noticeable example is Mazzarino 1965-1966: II.59-117. A synthesis is proposed in Porciani 2001b, which is attentive, above all, to the controversial relationship between history and rhetoric, a relationship that conditions the evaluation of the entire phenomenon of ancient historiography. Porciani follows and deepens the line traced by Momigliano 1975d, 1983,1985, and in many of the studies collected in his Contributi. Finley 1965 is fundamental for the entire theme
Of myth and history. Marincola 1997 examines the critical question of the construction of authority for the historian. For the problem of the genres of historiography, their contents and their conventions, see Gabba 1981 and Marincola 1999. For the position of history in rhetorical and grammatical theory and the school use of historiography see Nicolai 1992. For methods of publication and the interaction between the historian and the public see Porciani 1997 and Thomas 2000, together with the classic study of Momigliano 1978. For the relation between historians and political powers in both republican and imperial Rome see La Penna 1978: 43-104 and Syme 1958a and 1958b. Chaniotis 1988 collects and expertly annotates the epigraphic documentation on the social position of the historian and his activities.
World History
