To assess Herodotus’ idea of research in history, one needs to set the author ‘‘in context’’ by tracing the origin of the concept of historio back to science, philosophy, or social institutions. At the same time, though, it is equally crucial to allow for the possibility that he was not merely on the receiving end but was himself a participant in the intellectual debate (Thomas 2000; Bakker 2002: 15; Raaflaub 2002a). When Herodotus defined his mode of inquiry in terms of using one’s eyes and ears, he was most certainly not the first to rely, for research purposes, on the principle that the eyes are more trustworthy witnesses than the ears. Thales and Heraclitus, for instance, seem to have done so before him (cf. Marincola 1997: 65). But, as I intend to argue, it was by the methodically conscious application of this principle to a new field of inquiry - research about human affairs in the past - that Herodotus established the authority of an enterprise that was entirely his own. To that end, Herodotus need not have paid special regard, as is sometimes suggested (see esp. Nenci 1955), to the epistemological theories of the pre-Socratic philosophers concerned with sorting out questions about the relative value of sensorial perceptions or with arguing the need of subordinating the information of the senses to the nous. Nor would it seem that Herodotus, merely by employing such a method, wanted to make his position clear in the debate opposing wisdom and historie:/polymathie: (above, p. 32; a different issue is the relevance of this theme for patterns of thought in Herodotus: Wecowski 2004). His purpose of putting on record the deeds of men in the predominantly oral culture of the fifth century bce may rather have been in line with the popular Greek manner of making distinctions between more reliable and less reliable information, depending, as the Homeric characters knew already, on the degree of closeness of that information to the facts reported (cf. Schepens 1980: 1-31). At the beginning of the Histories Herodotus reminds his readers of this common-sense truth. Candaules wants Gyges to believe that his wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. He keeps praising her appearance in Gyges’ presence, but feels uncertain whether he has succeeded in convincing him. What preoccupies him is not a question about sense perception - whether optical sensation is sharper than aural - but the fact that he thinks that Gyges does not believe him when he tells him about his wife’s looks (ou...peithesthai moi legonti). He then enjoins Gyges, quoting the popular saying that ‘‘people trust their ears less than their eyes,’’ to find a way to see his wife naked (Hdt. 1.8). The passage is mostly commented upon for the disastrous consequences this perverse invitation entails for Candaules’ life and reign. For our purposes it is enough that this scene illustrates the credibility gap that apparently exists between a logos told by someone else and the certainty of seeing for oneself. According to this interpretation, the eyes and the ears appear, in the oral culture of the fifth century BCE, as terms of a paradigm expressing the important distinction between direct and indirect information. Still today it is a characteristic feature of the parasitic discipline of history that its terminology, even for key concepts of method, is largely made up of common words, which may then be used in a less familiar, more technical sense (Ritter 1982: xv-xix).
Herodotus' actual research practices bear out the importance attached to the distinction between direct and indirect sources of information. Throughout his account, especially in Books 1-4, the author takes care (sometimes with scrupulous precision: see 2.148.6) to indicate whether he has acquired his knowledge by opsisor akol. Sometimes the distinction appears in the terms of a crude opposition between the two ‘‘polar’’ terms, but more often his procedures leave room for several means and corresponding gradations in directness (full discussion of the relevant evidence in Verdin 1971; Schepens 1980: 33-93). The natives (epichorioi) are in a category of their own as direct informants in a spatial sense of the word. Herodotus’ inquiry (historie, in the general sense as used in the Preface) involves opsis (seeing), historic (in the narrow sense of the word, the questioning of informants), akoe (hearing), and gnome (indicating that the whole process of collecting data through seeing and hearing demands ‘‘judgment’’). On the basis of such a method Herodotus claims to have given, up to 2.99, his geographical and ethnographical description of Egypt. From that point onwards in his logos, he is going to relate Egyptian accounts according to what he heard, but supplementing them with what he himself saw. Opsis of monuments, material remains, artefacts is a further remarkable aspect of Herodotus’ method as a researcher. These visual objects perform the double role of reminders or prompts which trigger stories, and, more often, of verifications which demonstrate the truth or untruth of the tales (Hedrick 1995: 60-65). The adoption of this principle of source criticism whereby sight is the verification of hearing is quite prominent in Book 2, but is attested elsewhere as well: the dedications in Delphi, for instance, confirm the stories told in the Lydian logos about Croesus (1.50-51, 92). The story of Arion’s adventure ends with the reference to the ‘‘bronze statuette dedicated by Arion, of a man riding a dolphin’’ (1.24). In the latter case, Periander’s inquiry mirrors Herodotus’ in its use of material proof (Gray 2001). Such use of opsis illustrates that it was seen by Herodotus as a superior mode of inquiry. But this appraisal does not prevent him from being aware that seeing can lead to real knowledge only if it is attended by intelligence (synesis, 2.5). Also with respect to oral inquiry, Herodotus likes to stress his immediate contact with his informants. Where this is not possible, the intermediate stages of transmission are indicated.
An analysis of the extensive vocabulary used by Herodotus to discuss his relationship with sources - perceptively categorized by Hartog (2001a: 395-459) as four different enunciation marks - cannot detain us here. But a few general points must be made. First, when one looks at the way in which major distinctions are made between the available means for obtaining information, there seem to be no grounds for holding the view that Herodotus would generally subsume the questioning of informants (historie, in the narrow sense, as mentioned in 2.99) under akoe (Hartog 2001a: 407-411). In the key passage 2.99, Herodotus, using the connecting particles te... kai, links opsis, historie, and gnome together as his first - and second-degree means of direct inquiry and sets them off, as a whole, against his rendering of the Egyptian accounts based on hearsay. Quite clearly this arrangement does not obey a logic of sense perception - which would, of course, consider the questioning of witnesses as a form of hearing. As an (oral) historian Herodotus appears to follow a logic of his own and values the distinction between direct and indirect forms of information.
A further point, which the peculiar language of 2.99 suggests, is the author’s typical approach to ‘‘sources.’’ In the tradition of Greek historiography, apparently founded by Herodotus, historical method and sources are conceptualized and described in terms of a paradigm sui generis that is quite different from modern categorizations (cf. Schepens 1975a). Whereas current handbooks of historical method define evidence as the objective, material medium between the historian and past reality and tend to formally exclude as subjective means the various capabilities and activities of the researcher, Greek theory - as far as it can be reconstructed from the most representative pronouncements of the historians - appears to focus precisely on those ‘‘subjective means.’’ It is a characteristic feature of Herodotus’ statement on method that the terms ‘‘my own sight, judgment, and inquiry’’ constitute the subject of the periphrastic and emphatic verbal form legousa estin, a particularity of the Greek sentence that is usually lost in translations (cf. Schepens 1975a: 261 n. 15). A close (if odd-sounding) rendering would be: ‘‘Thus far it is my own sight and judgment and inquiry that say this.’’ Still, it is crucial to realise that Herodotus - and other Greek historians in his wake - think of opsis, historiee, and akoee as active faculties deployed by the historian in his inquiry. The objective materials - sources in the modern sense of the word - that Herodotus has access to through these means are both many and varied: in addition to the monuments and artefacts mentioned above, opsis brought him into contact with inscriptions, manners, and customs of foreign people, natural phenomena, geographical features, climate, fauna, and flora. Through historie: he was able to obtain information from all sorts of more or less qualified informants, whereas akoee introduced him to the written - the ancients did their reading aloud - as well as to the mainly oral traditions (cf. Johnson 2000). The criticism often leveled at Herodotus and other Greek historians for not drawing clear, or clear enough, distinctions between the specific categories of historical evidence appears somewhat irrelevant because it is formulated from a modern, anachronistic point of view. In the Greek paradigm, discussion of the sources is inextricably linked with a discussion of the ways in which the historian establishes contact with the reality to be examined. The question is: ‘‘How close were you to the thing itself?’’ (Shrimpton 1997: 119-120). In a sense, it is true to conclude with Wilamowitz (1908) and Hartog (1998: 124; 2000; 2005: 46) that if the Greeks were inventors of anything, they invented the historian rather than history. But in view of their particular approach to historical research and sources, to divorce history from the historian is hardly conducive to a proper understanding of what the Greeks achieved in this field of intellectual activity. It is a fortiori premature to draw from such a separation the far-reaching conclusion that in Greek antiquity reflection on history as such did not exist (Hartog 2005: 20) or that the Greeks, including even Polybius, lacked any notion of sources or source-criticism (Wilamowitz 1908: 15).
To return to Herodotus, it has rightly been observed that the most distinctive thing about him is his constant talk about sources and how to assess them. As to method, this distinguishes him more than anything else from his contemporaries and predecessors (Fowler 1996: esp. 62, 76-77). No doubt, the main reason for undertaking extended travels was for Herodotus to get in touch with as many sources as possible and to verify information by cross-checking (Murray 2001; Evans 1991: 89-146; Schepens 2006a). Even where information is sketchy, he wishes to learn what can be known on the basis of the available evidence. Thus his curiosity about the nature of Heracles led him to sail to Tyre and Thasos (2.44, cf. 2.102), ‘‘as though there were nothing remarkable in making such a lengthy journey for the sake of researching a single point’’ (Romm 1998: 51-52). The whole passage is ‘‘peppered with his most scientific vocabulary of proof and evidence’’ (Harrison 2003b: 239). It is to Herodotus’ credit that he succeeded in interlinking the traditions of different communities about the Persian Wars into one story. It is significant that the majority of those places where Herodotus speaks in propria persona refer to his role as an inquirer, inspecting sites or monuments, interviewing witnesses or locals, evaluating stories (De Jong 2004). I take these self-presentations, as a matter of principle, at face value, pace Fehling (Schepens 2006a: 84-87 for a brief discussion, with bibliography).
There were, of course, limits to what Herodotus’ active pursuit of data could achieve. But again, it is revealing of his ‘‘empiricist’’ cast of mind that these limitations are reflected in the often-repeated acknowledgment that he can report only on what he has been able to reach in his inquiries. For Herodotus it is essential that his account rests on evidence. In the opening phrase he defines his work as histories apodexis, intimating that his historic is aimed at producing an account that is ‘‘apodeictic’’ in the sense that it does not ‘‘invent.’’ The task of the historian, as he understands it, is to bring, if not ‘‘proof,’’ at least evidence for what is asserted. Given the demonstrative character of his account, Herodotus makes the claim that his data provide real information about the world and the past (see, e. g., 2.4). But, at the same time, ‘‘he remains aware, and wants us to be aware too, of the fact that as data they are only as good as the quality of the sources allows’’ (Dewald 1998: xxix). Herodotus’ respect for the fundamental value of information is likewise expressed in his self-imposed first duty to report stories as they are told: legein ta legomena. Failure to appreciate this important principle as an essential part of the historiographical legacy left by Herodotus has misled scholars into charging historians such as Curtius Rufus or Dio Cassius with a lack of seriousness as researchers, with credulity, and so forth (Bosworth 2003 and Lachenaud 2003 rightly plead for a more equitable approach).
As mentioned above, Herodotus’ preface is the first recorded instance of the word historic. The loss of so many works of Herodotus’ predecessors makes it nearly impossible for us to judge how many of these writers might have schooled him, and to what extent, in the technique of historic (Fowler 1996: 69). A prominent role is mostly claimed for Hecataeus (Bertelli 2001), the pater semper incertus of Greek historiography (Nicolai 1997; above, p. 17). He is the only logopoios actually named by Herodotus. The subjective and arbitrary element in his rationalistic criticisms of myths and legends precludes our defining his Genealogies as a work resting on historic. But the PericgCsis presents a different case. The ‘‘much-traveling man’’ (ancr poly-plancs, FGrHist 1 T 12a) Hecataeus greatly impressed his contemporaries with the amount of geographical and ethnographical detail that he was able to locate on Anaximander’s map of the world. The vast problem of Herodotus’ indebtedness to him cannot be discussed here, but the following general observation should be made. The agreement on the basic fact that both Hecataeus and Herodotus may have undertaken travels for the purpose of historice should not blind one to the difference in method between the rather ‘‘constructivist’’ approach of the former and the latter’s outspoken ‘‘empiricist’’ approach to evidence (Muller 1981: 299-318; Romm 1998: 89-91,134-139). In line with what has been said above about Herodotus’ attitude to sources, the Halicarnassian surely marks an advance in empirical and historical argument (Lateiner 1989: 93-94). I tend to agree with Thomas’ highly apposite remark (2000: 173 n. 19; more detailed discussion in Schepens 1980: 84-90): ‘‘Studies of Hecataeus which credit him with many of the attributes of Herodotus’ techniques of historic... seem to be taking for granted what they need to prove.’’
After Hecataeus, Charon and Xanthus merit special attention - a fact that Jacoby’s influential but over-schematic theory of the origins of Greek historiography tends to obscure. With regard to Xanthus, we have Ephorus’ valuable testimony (cf. Kingsley 1995) that he provided Herodotus with a ‘‘starting point,’’ ‘‘sources’’ or ‘‘resources’’ (FGrHist 70 F 180). What we know about Xanthus’ methods of drawing inferences from all sorts of tangible evidence (geography, fossils, linguistic materials) and bringing them to bear on the data of tradition indicates a similarity to the procedures employed by Herodotus himself (von Fritz 1967: II.348-377). If Herodotus did not borrow directly from Xanthus, both authors must at least have shared a similar intellectual background (Mehl 2004). For the rest we can only speculate on Herodotus’ debt to this predecessor - author of a history of Lydia down to the fall of Sardis - in making Croesus the oldest historically ascertained starting point for exploring the aitic of the war that opposed the Greeks and the Barbarians (Hdt. 1.5).
In conclusion: as far as we can judge by Herodotus’ own use of the concept of historie - the noun as well as the verb - he seems to lay claim to a distinct research activity that was typical of the way he conducted his inquiries. Ancient authors who thought of themselves as continuing the activity of Herodotus agreed with his emphasis on research, without necessarily agreeing in all particulars about his ways and methods. Later accounts written in line with the peculiar interests and objectives of Herodotus gradually became known as ‘‘historical’’ narratives, as works of history. By conferring upon him the title ‘‘pater historiae,’’ ancient tradition acknowledged that Herodotus’ concept and practice of historiee had opened up a new field of intellectual activity.
Nevertheless, disagreement over Herodotus’ approach was swiftly voiced by his immediate successor, Thucydides. He seems to have consciously avoided using the term historie for characterizing the account he wrote of the war that the Peloponnesians and the Athenians fought against one another. Still, there is a growing awareness among critics that he and later historians only developed the fundamentals of the historical method already implicit and sometimes explicit in the Histories (Lateiner 1989: 56, with ref. to Verdin 1977). Like Herodotus, Thucydides accepted oral tradition and visual testimony as the primary sources for history writing. But compared to his predecessor - who narrated a war he had not witnessed and told stories and described customs of people whose language he could not understand - Thucydides applied much stricter critical standards. He confined himself to relating events he was able to observe from beginning to end during his lifetime (5.26.5; cf. Fornara 1993), excluding from his project as ‘‘ancient’’ (palaia) events that occurred before the Peloponnesian War (1.1.3). It seems clear that Thucydides’ tacit but manifest disclaimer with regard to historiee has everything to do with his conviction that Herodotus ‘‘heard’’ too much and ‘‘saw’’ too little. He respects Herodotus more than any other ‘‘logographer’’ (see Tsakmakis 1995 and 1996 on Thucydides’ avoidance of open polemic with Herodotus), but still puts him in the company of writers of logoi, who seek to please the ear rather than to speak the truth (1.21.2). Thucydides’ ‘‘examination’’ (zetesis) steps up the rigor of inquiry.
There is a further quite obvious contrast between the two authors: whereas Herodotus presents himself as a researcher in action, Thucydides is content with serving up the result of his painstaking inquiry. His chapter on method informs the reader that his account is based on his personal observation and interrogation of witnesses directly involved in the events (1.22.2). So, quite consciously, he puts first-and second-degree visual evidence at the center of his historical method. Yet nowhere does the historian of the Peloponnesian War suggest that autopsy would be superior to inquiry (cf. Marincola 1997: 67-69): both methods are presented as equally important and closely interlocked. A close study of the text does not warrant the conclusion that he learnt some events through personal observation, while others - where he was not present - were narrated on the basis of eyewitness accounts. The idea that Thucydides would be making an ‘‘objective’’ distinction between things seen by himself and those he heard about from others runs counter to the idea that Thucydides, in accordance with the particular Greek approach to the information problem, merely singles out the two ways in which he acquired his knowledge of the events (cf. Schepens 1975a; 1980: 113-146). It follows logically from such an interpretation that the critical testing of the information on its conformity, as far as possible, with external reality is aimed at his autopsy as well as at his interrogation of eyewitnesses (for this ‘‘objective’’ meaning of akribeia, see Schepens 1980: 133-148; Fantasia 2004: 46-49). Bias and the faulty memories of witnesses made it hard to discover the truth (1.22.3).
In the ‘‘Archaeology,’’ the references to material objects still observable likewise point to the careful use of opsis as part of the author’s method of drawing inferences from tekmeiria and of subjecting tradition to verification. Autopsy of monuments can be a misleading guide to political realities (1.10.1-3; cf. Marincola 1997: 67-68).
Thucydides alludes once more to his inquiry in the ‘‘second preface,’’ where he notes his banishment from Athens not to apologize for his failure as a general at Amphipolis, but to draw attention to the wider opportunities that his twenty-year exile afforded ‘‘for being present with both parties, and more especially with the Peloponnesians’’ (5.26.5; Schepens 1980: 168-187). It is characteristic of the seriousness with which he conducted his research that Thucydides raised what must have been a dramatic event in his personal life to the elevated plane of historiographical discourse. He presents his exile, strictly from a methodological view, as offering an advantageous situation and providing him with the ‘‘leisure to observe affairs more closely.’’
The foregoing demonstrates that Thucydides played a large part in perfecting and sanctioning the method of direct inquiry as the most reliable one for writing history (Hornblower 1994a: 24). In a sense Thucydides attempted to base the ‘‘science’’ of history on observation in a manner similar to Hippocratic medicine (see Thuc. 2.47-54) and natural science (Anaxagoras). It is not a mere accident that in the narrative he stresses the importance of autopsy only once, notably in his description of the plague at Athens, with which he himself was afflicted and which he witnessed others suffering (2.48).
World History
