Alexander and ‘the Interests of Historical Accuracy’: A Reply
Written by: Professor Ian Worthington (University of Missouri-Columbia)
The Ancient History Bulletin 13.4 (1999)
In a recent issue of this journal, I published an article entitled ‘How “Great” was Alexander?’ (AHB 13.2 [1999] 39-55), parts of which were attacked by Professor Frank Holt in the subsequent: ‘Alexander the Great Today: In the Interests of Historical Accuracy?’ (AHB 13.3 [1999] 111-17). Although I was his immediate target, he included a reaction to the work of A.B. Bosworth; specifically, to Bosworth’s interpretation of the propaganda and motives behind the Porus coinage.[1] I do not believe it is my place here to respond to Holt’s arguments against Bosworth; however, I am keen to respond to his criticisms of my opinions. I do so not from any personal feeling of offence (I take none, and indeed welcome criticism, for disagreement is the nature of the academic beast), but because my article had precisely the effect I desired: it provoked a reaction to a subject of great historical importance, and by extension historical methodology, and, I hope, it will provoke further scholarly debate. Also, of importance in any debate was the fact that Holt’s reaction was quickly published, as is my reply now, admirably illustrating the importance of electronic publication such as that of the Ancient History Bulletin previews and of Electronic Antiquity.[2]
Professor Holt rightly accepts that the image of a ‘great’ Alexander III as given to us by Tarn and his adherents needs to be questioned. In so doing, he accepts many of the arguments and criticisms I put forward, and of course of those major scholars on whose work I build, namely the ground-breaking work of Ernst Badian and then Brian Bosworth. However, he accuses me of not living up to my aim of portraying a more historically accurate Alexander since I base some of my arguments on ‘some specific charges of a very dubious nature’ (p. 111).[3]
In my article, I portrayed Alexander as many things, including a ruthless, cynical killer, who was more often swayed by emotion than reason. In doing so, I linked the king to the death of Coenus after the Hyphasis mutiny in 326,4 and Holt takes this up in a section which he calls ‘Alexander as Killer’ (pp. 112-13). Because of the Hyphasis mutiny, Alexander was forced to retrace his steps. As I said, ‘although Alexander might try to disguise the lack of advance at the Hyphasis river as due to unfavourable omens (Arr. 5.3.6), no one would be unaware that the real reason was that the army en masse simply did not want to go further’ (p. 44),5 and that army’s opposition to him had been led by Coenus.
Some time later Coenus died, and in my article I stated: ‘Coenus’ defiance of Alexander earned him little in the way of reward as a few days after the Hyphasis mutiny he was found dead in suspicious circumstances (Arr. 6.2.1, Curt. 9.3.20). The coincidence is too much, and ... we can see the hand of a furious and spiteful king at work here’ (p. 44). Holt takes issue with me on several grounds, including my citation of Arrian and Curtius because they do not support my statement that Alexander was behind Coenus’ death. This is true, but then I did not intend them to; they are simply cited to point the reader to the passages where his death is mentioned. More importantly, Holt points out that no ancient source implicates Alexander in Coenus’ death, and that Arrian 6.2.1 and Curtius 9.3.20 tell us he died of disease. This allows Holt to criticise the earlier views of Badian and Bosworth as well, who believe that, at the very least, Coenus’ death may not have been an accident or due to natural causes.
To begin with the sources. Arrian 6.2.1 tells us that Coenus died of disease (NO/SW| TELEUTA|=), and Curtius 9.3.20 states that it so happened (forte) that he died from an illness (Coenus morbo exstinctus est). What was this ‘disease’ which seems to have taken Coenus’ life, and why do others in Alexander camp seem to have been unaffected by it? Its uniqueness arouses further suspicion since Nearchus tells us that diseases were relatively infrequent in India. Then we have the inconsistency between the two sources, for Arrian tells us that Coenus died when Alexander reached the Hydaspes, whereas Curtius has him dying near the river Acesines. Arrian does refer to the return visit to the Acesines (5.29.5), at which Alexander performed a sacrifice before crossing it and pushing on to the Hydaspes, but does not say that Coenus died there. In fact, when he does mention Coenus’ death at 6.2.1 (by which time Alexander was at the Hydaspes) he also tells us of his funeral held there, plausibly allowing us to connect Coenus’ death and funeral to the same time-frame and geographical location. Curtius has got it wrong, or at the least confused the two rivers.
Moreover, Curtius’ use of forte at 9.3.20 is, in my opinion, interesting. Forte here closely governs ibi and more general verbal actions, as would be normal in Latin, hence ‘there, as fate would have it, Coenus died from an illness’. The word may well be used ironically here by Curtius, and the grudging remark attributed to Alexander which Curtius goes on to give seems to reinforce this — there was uncertainty about the manner of Coenus’ death, and the ‘official’ version may have been very different from what actually happened.
Inconsistent sources, an apparently unique ‘disease’, and potential ironies impacting on the manner of Coenus’ death should make us raise eyebrows about our sources, yet Holt, in criticising me for my historical methodology, baldly states: ‘In truth, our sources are quite clear on the point: Coenus died of disease’ (p. 112).
One thing we do know for sure: Coenus did die — not long after he had championed the army against Alexander. The demise of one other successful opponent of Alexander also springs to mind: Callisthenes — also not long after he had led opposition against Alexander in his attempt to introduce proskynesis and not so long before the Hyphasis mutiny that the reason for his death would have been forgotten. At his court in Bactra in 327, Alexander attempted to adopt the Persian custom of proskynesis.[6] Any expectation that his men would accept proskynesis was dashed thanks to the opposition of Callisthenes (Arr. 4.10.5-12.1), but Callisthenes’ opposition soon cost him his life (Arr. 4.14.1-3, Curt. 8.6.24); see further below on proskynesis. Would Coenus, whose display of opposition was even more spectacular and far-reaching in that it caused Alexander to abandon his plans to march further eastward, have escaped unscathed? It is true, as Professor Holt says, that no ancient source connects Alexander to Coenus’ death (though that does not mean those with Alexander did not themselves make the connection, a connection which Ptolemy avoided). However, as I said in my article, ‘the coincidence is too much’ (p. 44).
Holt criticised Badian, who first intimated that Coenus’ death was not accidental, and also Bosworth, who, in making the comparison with the death of Dioxippus, added a sinister side to the death.[7] I continued that ‘trend’, not by a cavalier treatment of sources (or in this case a lack of sources) or because it fits my own theory, but because Coenus’ death after such a spectacular display of opposition to Alexander is too sudden and inexplicable. Alexander often took shocking steps to ensure his position. In 335 he razed Thebes to the ground as an example of what would happen to any Greek polis which resisted Macedon, especially once he had left for Persia. The example worked; when Greece did revolt, it was only after Alexander was dead. Alexander’s setback at the Hyphasis river must have come as a shock to him, a challenge to him as king and commander, something he could not allow to happen again.[8] When we think of Alexander’s reaction to Callisthenes, we find it hard not to see in the case of Coenus, as I said, ‘the hand of a furious and spiteful king at work here’ (p. 44). The lesson would be timely and we find it hard not to believe that those at Alexander’s court would not make a connection between Coenus’ demise and the king; as Bosworth succinctly says, ‘[Coenus’] death may have been fortuitous, but it was uncomfortably close to his great offence, and the lesson will have been clear’.[9]
However, as Holt says, and I agree, Alexander did not kill everyone who crossed him, and he cites as an example Leonnatus, who had also earned Alexander’s anger over his attempt to introduce proskynesis (Arr. 4.12.2). Other sources, however, name different men who bore the brunt of Alexander’s anger: Polyperchon (Curt. 8.5.22-6.1) and Cassander (Plut. Alexander 74.2). It would appear that when a Persian was prostrating himself before Alexander he was mocked by one of Alexander’s men. The same story is basically given in all three sources, but the identity of the man (or men) who mocked the Persian is controversial. Bosworth believes that there were two distinct occasions involving the mockery of proskynesis, once in 327 when either Leonnatus or Polyperchon were the culprits, and another in 323 when Cassander had newly arrived at the court. He argues that if a Leonnatus were involved it could not have been the Bodyguard because he continued to be influential in Alexander’s entourage. That being the case, he follows Berve and posits Leonnatus the son of Antipater.[10] Heckel, by contrast, argued that it was Leonnatus the Bodyguard and that the incident did harm his career.[11] For our purposes, however, the actual identity of the culprit(s) is not essential but the fact that, as Holt rightly states, ‘the offender ... was not murdered by his annoyed sovereign’ (p.113 n. 12), and thus if Alexander did not kill any opponent in 327, it does not follow that an angry Alexander would have arranged Coenus’ demise after the Hyphasis mutiny.
Let us look at what the sources have to say on those who opposed Alexander at this time. The ‘crime’ seems actually quite trivial: ridiculing a Persian who was prostrating himself before the king. Of course it would have angered and insulted the Persians, and of course it would have angered Alexander who, whatever his aim, seemed intent on introducing proskynesis. However, it was not leading a mutiny against the king. Furthermore, all our sources agree that Alexander punished the men immediately: Alexander was angry with Leonnatus, but then forgave him; Alexander threw Polyperchon onto the ground, but then after a long reprimand pardoned him;[12] Alexander beat Cassander’s head against a wall. The point here is an important one: all three, according to our sources, were reprimanded and punished on the spot. Summary justice was dispensed: case closed. However, Callisthenes’ opposition was not trivial, and it placed him in a very different position; as Curtius goes on to say, Alexander’s anger was more persistent against him (8.6.1 — pervicacioris irae fuit). Not long after, the king engineered Callisthenes’ death. Can we really expect the king not to have acted in a similar fashion against Coenus, whose opposition affected the king’s pothos and personal desire for glory far more so than any failed proskynesis attempt?
After Coenus, Holt turns to my characterisation of Alexander as ‘foolish’ because of the needless risks he often took which one would not expect in a king and commander. As an example, I mentioned Alexander’s siege of the town of Malli to get Bucephalus back, during which siege his enthusiasm for fighting almost cost him his life (p. 51). Professor Holt pointed out my factual error here (p. 114): Bucephalus was stolen by the Mardi, not the Malli, and the siege of the town had nothing to do with Alexander’s horse. Of course he is right! A red face, then, for Worthington (perhaps also, with respect, for Professors Boswort and Heckel, both of whom read my paper in advance of publication); everyone at some point makes a mistake, but that does not excuse my error. However, while Professor Holt is correct to say that Alexander did not risk his life in a needless effort to retrieve his stolen horse, it must be repeated that Alexander did willingly risk his life in the siege, and in the process almost lost it after he was struck by an arrow.[13] As I said, ‘Who would have taken over as commander and as king if Alexander had died? Only literary heroes jump into the enemy’s midst as Alexander did at Malli’ (p. 51).
Professor Holt next takes me to task (pp. 114-15) for my criticism of Alexander’s action after the battle of Issus in 333 when he did not pursue Darius, as I believe he should have done, and for my apparently reducing the Greek war against Persia to a ‘royal duel’ between Alexander and Darius, in which Darius the man became more important than the means to continue the war (Holt’s italics on p. 115). If I understand him correctly, Holt accuses me of misrepresenting, or at least misreading, Arrian 3.16.2 when I said that after Issus Alexander was ‘more interested in what lay to the south: the riches of Babylon and then Susa, or as Arrian describes them (3.16.2) the “prizes of the war”’ (p. 46). Holt points out that the Arrian passage refers to the situation after Gaugamela in 331 and thus that I am guilty of historical inaccuracy. However, I think he has simply misunderstood my contention here. I am aware that Arrian refers to the post Gaugamela situation (though of course after Issus Darius fled to Thapsacus); I gave that reference to support the point that Babylon and Susa were seemingly viewed as the real prizes of the war, and thus of its culmination, not victories in battle or Alexander calling himself ‘Lord of Asia’ after Issus (Arr. 2.14.8). Alexander, I was arguing, ought to have pursued Darius; he should not have given the king time to regroup his forces, and thus set the scene for the later and costly battle of Gaugamela. Instead, he turned his attention to Egypt, surely as important and as wealthy as Babylon and Susa, and it was occupied in 332/1.
I suspect Professor Holt and I simply disagree on Alexander’s actions and motives here. Likewise, my apparent ‘reduction’ of the entire war to a ‘royal duel’. I happen to believe — and there is no evidence to the contrary — that for a person such as Alexander, who enjoyed a fight perhaps more than anyone else and who could not stand personal opposition, Darius the man did matter, and thus the Persian king’s death was a major objective. However, the airing of such disagreements is better suited to a seminar room than the pages of a journal, and so I leave the matter at that.
Finally, Professor Holt uses my ‘heavy reliance on the work of Bosworth’ (p. 115), especially his interpretation of the Porus coinage, as a stepping-stone to a critique of Bosworth’s views on this coinage and its impact on the Greeks (pp. 115-16).[14] As I said at the start of this paper, I do not believe it is my place to respond to Holt’s criticisms of another scholar’s work. However, Hol has misinterpreted what Bosworth wrote. Professor Bosworth did not argue that the coinage was aimed directly at Greece, merely that it would have conveyed a salutary message in the troubles caused by the Exiles Decree, a message that was timely enough when Alexander wa about to leave for Arabia. In other words, the propaganda of the coinage had a general application, designed to deter rebellion everywhere, but at the same time it was particularly appropriate to the Greeks.
For the record, I see nothing wrong in being influenced by the work of major scholars in the field — Holt himself refers favourably to Professor Badian’s work, which has had greatinfluence on scholars and students too numerous to count.
Professor Holt is correct to state that there is a strong inclination today to de-heroize Alexander, and quite right also to warn against carelessly jumping on this bandwagon (p. 116). Perhaps for historians (ancient and modern) Alexander’s ‘greatness’ had nothing to do with his military achievements but was his complexity as a human being: as a person he had the characteristically good and the evil sides but to the power of ten. In dis-agreeing with some of my own contentions, Holt’s article shows that there can be no one consensus of opinion on Alexander or on his actions and motives, and perhaps there ought not to be.
Footnotes
A.B. Bosworth, Alexander and the East (Oxford 1996) 6-8. Professor Bosworth read a draft of this paper, and I thank him for his comments. I thank Professor Heckel for giving me the opportunity of responding, although he does not agree with several of the points raised in this note and the original paper.
reviews: http://ivory.trentu.ca/www/cl/ahb/ahbpreviews/ahb-previews.html. The article by Holt was made available for electronic preview on 2000 02 06. It has since appeared in print; see now http://ivory.trentu.ca/www/cl/ahb/ahb13/ahb-13-3c.html.] For the recent and past issues [of EA] go to http://scholar.lib.vt.edu/ejournals/ElAnt (administered now by Virginia Tech).
All in-text references to Holt are drawn from his article ‘Alexander the Great Today: In the Interests of Historical Accuracy’, AHB 13.3 (1999) 111-17.
All in-text references to Holt are drawn from his article ‘Alexander the Great Today: In the Interests of Historical Accuracy’, AHB 13.3 (1999) 111-17.
All in-text references to my article are from ‘How “Great” was Alexander?’, AHB 13.2 (1999) 39-55.
Arr. 4.10.5-7, Plut. Alexander 54.3-6, Curt. 8.5.9-12.
Bosworth, Alexander and the East, 117.
I disagree completely with P.O. Spann, ‘Alexander at the Beas: Fox in a Lion’s Skin’, in Frances B. Titchener and Richard F. Moorton, Jr. (eds.), The Eye Expanded. Life and the Artsin Greco-Roman Antiquity (Berkeley 1999) 62-74, who believes that Alexander himself orchestrated the mutiny in order to save face because he did not wish to go further into India.
Bosworth, Alexander and the East, 117.
A.B. Bosworth, A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander 2 (Oxford 1995) 86-7, citing other bibliography.
W. Heckel, The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire (London 1992) 95-8.
The emended text of Curtius 8.6.1 reads Polyperconti quidem postea custodito diu ignovit, which Rolfe in the Loeb edition translates as ‘Polyperchon, indeed, he pardoned after he had been held in custody for a long time’. However, it is important to point out that custodito is an emendation, with no textual justification, and has not been accepted by some editors (Bardon). Castigato of the manuscript makes perfect sense, hence ‘he later pardoned Polyperchon after a long reprimand’ (cf. the use of castigatos at 10.8.3).
Diod. 17.99.3, Arr. 6.10.1, Curt. 9.5.9-10, Plut. Alexander 63.6.
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