Waldemar Heckel and Lawrence A. Tritle (edd.), Alexander the Great: A new History. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009. Pp. xix + 366, incl. map, and 20 plates. ISBN 978-1-4051-3082-0. UK£19.99.
John Atkinson,
School of Languages and Literatures, University of Cape
Town, South Africa
For a fraction less than twenty pounds sterling you get a worthwhile collection of essays that is not quite a Companion, nor a Reader, nor yet a collection of Symposium papers.[[1]] Insofar as these genres are distinct, this volume has the merits of each, and provides strong competition because of the calibre of this international team of contributors, the quality of the contributions, and the comprehensive range of aspects covered.
With the plethora of cooperative publications in this
field there is naturally, and defensibly, some measure of
overlap and recycling between volumes, and this is duly
acknowledged by Heckel with regard to his narrative
chapter, ‘Alexander’s Conquest of Asia’ (pp. 26-52), which
is, as he says, a reworking of his chapter in Kinzl
(2006).[[2]] In this volume it provides an excellent
contextualising introduction to the more narrowly focused
chapters that follow. Of value is his solid
prosopographical approach, but a family tree or two, or
additional notes might help to explicate the detail, for
example, at pp. 26f. on Perdiccas
The positive approach can be seen, for example, in
Elizabeth Carney’s treatment of ‘Alexander and his
“Terrible Mother”’ (pp. 189-202), as she finds that
Alexander ‘achieved supreme excellence by the standards of
his society’, not least because of the influence of
Olympias, who was a good mother (p. 189), though by the
same token his parents could be held accountable for some
of his negative character traits as well as his qualities.
Olympias played out her role as was expected of a mother
of a son of a polygamous king. Similarly, Daniel Ogden,
on ‘Alexander’s Sex Life’ (pp. 203-17) comes ‘close to . .
. Tarnism’ (p. 217) in finding that Alexander’s record in
both the heterosexual and the homosexual categories was
respectably in harmony with the pattern established by
Philip and other Macedonian kings. Then Elisabetta
Poddighe, ‘Alexander and the Greeks: the Corinthian
League’ (pp. 99-120), finds consistency in Alexander’s
respect for the provisions of the League, though after
Gaugamela he redefined the campaign for the freedom of the
Greeks, giving that principle greater weight than the
guarantee of autonomy (p. 116). Thus with the Exiles’
Decree of 324, Alexander adapted the ‘juridical
instrument’ provided by the League, as ‘violating or
ignoring its charter was neither useful nor necessary’ (p.
117). Pierre Briant, as interesting and challenging as
ever, opens his chapter, ‘The Empire of Darius III’ (pp.
141-70), with a call for a more informed evaluation of
Darius’ role in the development of the Persian empire,
stating that ‘the historian’s task should not be to
“rehabilitate” Darius, nor to summon Alexander before an
international court of justice to charge him with his
“crimes”’ (p.142). An apologist might welcome Michael
Zahrnt’s line that Alexander inherited from Philip a
commitment to a war against ‘the Persian Empire’ (pp. 21-
25, passim), by which he seems to mean a war for conquest.
In support of his case he might have drawn in reference to
Bloedow (2003: 261-74), and Heckel (2003: 147-74).[[4]]
While Zahrnt cites for Philip’s aims Ellis (1976) and
Cawkwell (1978),[[5]] they were, according to these
writers (in my view rightly), less expansive and referred
rather to Anatolia and the western satrapies. In any case
Zahrnt, in this introductory chapter on ‘The Macedonian
background’ (pp. 7-25), is more focused on Philip, and
concludes with the line that when Alexander ‘began to be
called “the Great”, it was overlooked that he was the son
of an even greater man.’(p. 25)
But Heckel’s co-editor, Lawrence Tritle, began with a more
negative view of Alexander, having already diagnosed his
record of strange behaviour from about 329 BC, with binge-
drinking, paranoia and fits of extreme anger, as
consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder.[[6]] Thus
in his chapter on ‘Alexander and the Greeks’ (pp. 121-40),
he shows no illusions about the motives of those who
joined him in Asia: some may have been captivated by his
charisma, but plenty were there to escape whatever
hardship and to get out of it whatever social and economic
advantage. As for political leaders in mainland Greece,
Tritle rightly rejects the judgemental use of the labels
pro- and anti-Macedonian,[[7]] and calls for more
appreciation of the pragmatism that was forced on them.
Gregor Weber, ‘The Court of Alexander as Social System’
(pp. 83-98), deals with the progressive formalisation of
court rituals, the definition of designated spaces and
structures, and the expansion of the tiers of officers,
dignitaries and minions; and he paints a grim picture of
the tensions and complexities of life in Alexander’s
court, in particular after his return from the east. On
occasions One could share in symposia with One’s
hetaeroi, and, within limits, tolerate freedom of
speech, but to make competitiveness work as a guard
against disloyalty the general policy had to be to ‘mark
the differences in rank and status with merciless
punishments’(pp. 94-5).[[8]] Like Tritle, Weber recognises
that tension between Alexander and the Macedonians in his
army increased significantly after the return from India,
nicely illustrated by his reference to Cassander’s
imprudent reaction to what he saw upon his arrival in
Babylon in 324 of ‘the changes that had taken place at
court’ (p. 95, citing Plut. Alex. 74). Alexander
Meeus, ‘Alexander’s image in the age of the Successors’
(pp. 235-50), follows this line, but more
tentatively,[[9]] and to mark the paradox that the
attitude to Alexander after his death swung to blind
loyalty, and more generally to affection for the Argead
line. The depth of that attachment may be overstated, but
Meeus presents a good analysis of how the Successors
wrestled with the challenges of using the image of
Alexander, Philip and the other Argeads in their
propaganda.
Patrick Wheatley, ‘The Diadochoi, or Successors to
Alexander’ (pp. 53-68), provides a lucid overview of a
highly complex period. The section on the chronology of
the Diadoch period (pp. 66-8) is less clear and helpful
than the other sections and is not of particular relevance
to the study of Alexander, but one appreciates the way he
makes sense of previous discussions of why the dates of
the assumption, or open use, of the royal title by those
who followed the lead of Antigonus and Demetrius in 306,
appear to span nearly two years (pp. 61-3). Particularly
good, and of certain relevance, is his treatment of early
bids for the kingship, perhaps starting with Leonnatus in
322 (p. 60), and what that kingship meant (pp. 60, and
65f.).
In several places significant rival interpretations are
regrettably not mentioned. For example, Catie Mihalopoulos
follows the standard interpretation of the Alexander
Mosaic (pp. 287-8), apparently unaware of Badian (1999:
75-92), who focuses rather on the prominence given to
Darius.[[10]] Boris Dreyer’s ‘Heroes, cults, and divinity’
(218-34), lacks reference to Badian (1996: 11-26).
Blackwell (1999) is included in the cumulative
bibliography, but is not drawn in at potentially relevant
points by Carney and Poddighe.[[11]]
If you are at risk of being introduced to a stranger as
working in the field of Alexander studies, be prepared for
an opening question about Oliver Stone’s film, Alexander.
Read very carefully Elizabeth Baynham’s chapter, ‘Power,
passion and patrons: Alexander, Charles Le Brun, and
Oliver Stone’ (pp. 294-310), and be grateful. The major
part of this chapter, however, deals with Le Brun’s
Alexander paintings, and the source material and paintings
from which Le Brun gained information and ideas. She
addresses the key issues of patronage and the pressures on
the artist. Like Le Brun Oliver Stone had to strike a
balance between creativity and what was required of him,
in Stone’s case as set out by his advisers led by Lane
Fox. Incidentally, as the author of a monograph on Curtius
Rufus (1998), Baynham must be gratified by the high
incidence of references to Curtius in this volume.[[12]]
Curtius is again much in the frame in Diana Spencer’s
‘Roman Alexander: Epistemology and Identity’ (pp. 251-74),
a finely nuanced study of Roman paradigms from Scipio
Africanus to Hadrian. It is good to have this chapter as a
guide and supplement to her key study of the source
passages in her book (2002).[[13]]
All in all this volume is certainly to be welcomed. At an
affordable price it offers coverage of a comprehensive
range of topics, with the ‘big names’ well represented
among the contributors. As the pieces are custom-written
there is enough new material here to make this more than a
‘reader’, and there is plenty to challenge the critical
mind.[[14]]
NOTES
[[1]] Such as Joseph Roisman (ed.), Brill’s Companion
to Alexander the Great (Leiden 2003), Ian Worthington
(ed.), Alexander the Great: A Reader (London 2003),
Waldemar Heckel and L. Tritle (edd.), Crossroads of
History: the Age of Alexander (Claremont, California
2003); W. Heckel, L. Tritle, and P. Wheatley (edd.),
Alexander's Empire: Formulation to Decay
(Claremont, California 2007).
[[2]] W. Heckel, 'The Conquests of Alexander the Great',
in K.H. Kinzl (ed.), A Companion to the Classical Greek
World (Malden 2006) 560-88.
[[3]] W. Heckel, ‘King and “Companions”’ in Roisman (ed.),
Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great (2003)
197-225.
[[4]] E. Bloedow, ‘Why did Philip and Alexander launch a
war against the Persian Empire?’ AC 72 (2003) 261-
74; W. Heckel, ‘Alexander . . . and the “Limits of the
Civilised World”’, in Crossroads of History
(Claremont, 2003), 147-74.
[[5]] J. R. Ellis, Philip II and Macedonian
Imperialism (1976) and G. L. Cawkwell, Philip of
Macedon (London 1978).
[[6]] ‘Alexander and the killing of Cleitus the Black’, in
W. Heckel and L.A. Tritle (eds.), Crossroads of
history: the age of Alexander (Claremont, California
2005) 127-46. I have picked up on this point in a
forthcoming article on the death of Alexander.
[[7]] Cf. my ‘Macedon and Athenian politics in the period
338-323 BC’, ACl 24 (1981) 37-48.
[[8]] This irreverent use of the royal One is not
Weber’s: the reviewer, as might be guessed, has just read
Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader (2007).
[[9]] Thus he appears to refer to the Cleitus episode and
the mutiny at Opis as marking low points in Alexander’s
relationship with his men, but provides the caveat that
the whole issue needs more discussion (p. 236). By
contrast, Heckel draws from the Cleitus episode the
crucial lesson that ‘the army was quick to excuse
Alexander’s conduct’ (p. 78), and on the Opis mutiny
Heckel homes in on Curtius’ account of the troops’
contrition once Alexander had re-asserted his authority
(p. 81; Curtius 10. 3. 1-3).
[[10]] E. Badian, ‘Note on the “Alexander Mosaic”’, in
The Eye Expanded, ed. F.B. Titchener and R.F.
Morton (Berkeley, 1999) 75-92. In the same chapter
Mihalopoulos might have made it easier to explore further
the links between certain artistic representations of
Alexander and Achilles by reference to key images of
Achilles in LIMC.
[[11]] E. Badian, ‘Alexander the Great between two Thrones
and Heaven’, in A. Small (ed.), Subject and Ruler
(Ann Arbor 1996) 11-26; C.W. Blackwell, In the Absence
of Alexander (Frankfurt-am-Main 1999). Unfortunately,
Dreyer’s chapter also includes several source references,
where the content is incorrectly rendered.
[[12]] E. J. Baynham, Alexander the Great: the Unique
History of Quintus Curtius (Ann Arbor, Michigan 1998).
[[13]] Diana Spencer, The Roman Alexander (Exeter
2002).
[[14]] We can count as typing errors the misspelling of
amphictyonic (p. 102), ‘AD 20’ for ‘20 BC’ (p. 261, n.
36), and syngeneia for syggeneia (p. 101).