Historical writings

The 4th century is in many ways the best-documented period of Greek history. There is, admittedly, a greater number of documents from the 3rd century, when inscriptions and papyri abound (there are virtually no documentary papyri before the time of Alexander). The writings of the 3rd-century prose historians, however, are mostly lost. In the 4th century, by contrast, there is an abundance of evidence of all kinds. Inscriptions are much more common than in the 5th century and begin to appear in quantity from states other than Athens. Forensic oratory from the 5th century has scarcely survived at all, but from the 4th century there are more than 60 speeches attributed to Demosthenes alone. Most of this corpus of oratory is set in an Athenian context, but one speech of Isocrates deals with business affairs on Aegina. Although there is no 4th-century tragedy and no epinicion poetry like that of Pindar, the comedies of Aristophanes from the beginning of the century and those of Menander from toward the end have survived. These are illuminating about social life, as are the prose writings of Aristotle’s pupil Theophrastus, especially his Characters. The writings of Plato, in their anxiety to define an ideal polis invulnerable to stasis or civil strife, give evidence of the instability of the 4th-century world in which it could be said that in every city there were two cities, that of the rich and that of the poor. Aristotle’s Politics examines the theoretical conceptions underlying Greek attitudes toward polis life. This is a precious document, although it can be criticized for insufficient awareness of the monarchical and federal developments of the age.

No such criticism can be leveled at the historiography of the age. It is from Xenophon that one learns of the grand plans of Jason of Pherae, and knowledge about Dionysius I is derived, by less-direct routes, from the 4th-century historians of the Greek west Ephorus, Philistus, and (toward the end of the century) Timaeus of Tauromenium. In fact, the process of explaining history in terms of personality already begins with Thucydides, who arguably came to see that a dynamic personality like Alcibiades could by sheer charisma and force of character have an impact on events irrespective of the content of his policies. It was surely this aspect of Thucydides’ work that Aristotle had in mind when he defined history as “what Alcibiades did and suffered.”

Aristotle’s nephew Callisthenes began by recording the history of the city-states in a fairly traditional way (which, however, did more justice to the Theban hegemony than had that of Xenophon), but then he joined Alexander’s staff in order to write the Deeds of Alexander. Evidently, history was now seen as what Alexander did and suffered. Even earlier than that, however, the central role of Philip’s personality had been acknowledged by Theopompus of Chios, who (like Callisthenes) moved in the direction of writing history that revolved around the person of a king; he called his history of Greece Philippica (“The Affairs of Philip”). Meanwhile there were local historians of Attica, such as Androtion, who continued to value Athens’s past and even ventured to rewrite (not merely to reinterpret) the facts about it. These men, who are known as Atthidographers, were not simply antiquarians escaping from the monarchic present. On the contrary, the greatest of them, Philochorus, was put to death in the 3rd century by a Macedonian king for his excessive partiality toward King Ptolemy II Philadelphus of Egypt. All these authors were, in different ways, coming to terms with monarchy.

In addition to works of history there are 4th-century treatises that show how Greeks experienced the new military monarchies. Xenophon’s Cyropaedia (“Education of Cyrus”) is a novel about Cyrus the Great, but it is also a tract on kingship and generalship addressed to the class of educated Greek commanders and would-be leaders. (In comparable fashion Isocrates offered advice on kingship to the semi-Hellenized rulers of Cyprus.) The surviving treatise on siege-craft by Aeneas of Stymphalus in Arcadia (known as Aeneas Tacticus) is valuable not only for the evidence it provides about dissensions (stasis) inside a polis—there is an entire section on “plots”—but also for the awareness both of the ruthless methods of men like Dionysius, who figures prominently, and of the new military technology of the age. (The treatise includes, for example, practical advice on how to defend walls against battering rams.) Aeneas Tacticus’s treatise, more than any other surviving prose work of the 4th century, makes the point that this was an age of professionalism.

Many technical monographs are known to have been written in that period but have not survived. For instance, Pythius, who worked on the Mausoleum, also wrote a book about another of his projects, the Temple of Athena Polias at Priene. (There were 5th-century precedents for some of this: Polyclitus of Argos had written a famous treatise on proportion in sculpture and Sophocles a monograph about the chorus.)

Architecture and sculpture

In the sphere of architecture, the 4th century produced no Parthenon, but it was the great age of military structures. Most of what survives of the elegant fortifications of the northwestern frontier demes of Attica stems from the 4th century; inscriptions attest refurbishing work on Phyle in particular at about the time of the Battle of Cheronea. Outside Athens there were big projects, such as the theatre and temple at Epidaurus and the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus.

Buildings such as the Mausoleum were commissioned by powerful individuals, further proof that the emergence of commanding personalities is a noticeable feature of the 4th century. In some respects it represents a return to Archaic values: a tyrant like Dionysius has much in common with Peisistratus of Athens or Polycrates of Samos, and Philip II of Macedon can be seen as comparable to Pheidon of Argos, a hereditary monarch who transformed his power base into a military autocracy. Revised attitudes toward such individuals are already detectable near the end of the 5th century. It seems that, when Athens founded Amphipolis in 437, its founder Hagnon, father of the oligarch Theramenes, was given some kind of cult in his lifetime. That is the usually neglected implication of a passage of Thucydides, which definitely records the award of cult honours at Amphipolis to the dead Spartan general Brasidas after 422. In the early 4th century another Spartan, Lysander, received cult at Samos, and later in the century Euphron, a tyrant at Sicyon, was buried in the agora “like a founder.”

At Athens itself, before the request by Alexander for his own deification, there could be no question of divine cult for a living man (although it is possible that Alexander had already arranged some kind of hero cult at Athens for Hephaestion). Nonetheless, even at Athens there was a marked trend toward more-assertive monuments. That is particularly evident in the commemorative choragic monuments built to celebrate victories in the great Athenian festivals. The most famous of these, the Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, which used to be called the “Lantern of Demosthenes,” represents a transitional phase; its inscribed dedication falls between the anonymity (actually more pretended than real) of the corporatist benefactions of Classical Athens and the assertiveness of Hellenistic Greece with its emphasis on individual generosity. On the one hand, the inscription makes clear that what is celebrated is victory by the tribe as a whole; on the other, the great prominence of the man’s name stresses individuality, as does the idiosyncratic form of the monument. Clearly, this is an emphatic statement in the first person singular.

Consistent with these developments is the marked tendency toward portraiture in art. Persian satraps such as Tissaphernes issued coinage with what were obviously meant to be realistic depictions of the satrap’s head. Individual rulers were represented by statues in the round, like that of Mausolus from the Mausoleum (which may or may not be an attempt to represent Mausolus himself but which incontrovertibly is a portrait of some powerful individual), or by figures on friezes, as those on the Alexander Sarcophagus in the Archaeological Museums of Istanbul. Although the workmanship is evidently Greek, the ethos is uncompromisingly royal. Alexander created a new visual image for himself: unlike the bearded Philip, Alexander is portrayed as clean-shaven, young, and idealized. Lysippus, in particular, is said to have caught Alexander’s physical qualities in his royal sculpture portraits.

The Athenian empire had given employment to many artists, architects, and sculptors, both from Athens itself and from the subject states of the empire. When the empire collapsed in 404, many of them had to seek employment elsewhere. Some went to the courts of satraps like Mausolus or of military rulers like Dionysius: both of those had money to spend on art, building, and fortifications. Another wealthy court was that of Macedon. One remaining recourse in Athens, however, was funerary art; the most-famous funerary stelae and sculptured monuments found at Kerameikós, the city’s prestigious cemetery, date from this period, before such lavish commissions were outlawed by the Athenian ruler Demetrius of Phaleron after Alexander’s death. Some of those buried were foreigners; for instance, there was a precinct for the Messenians, one for some immigrants from Heraclea on the Black Sea, and one for those from Sinope, also in the Black Sea region. (In the Archaeological Museum of Piraeus there is a monument comparable to another one of a Black Sea immigrant, a reminder of Athens’s commercial connections with this crucial grain-growing area.) In the Kerameikós there is even a grave of a Persian with a larger-than-life torso of a seated man in Persian dress.

Social and commercial exchanges

Whatever the political effects of the King’s Peace of 386, it was evidently not a barrier to social and commercial exchanges. Inscriptions in the corpus of Demosthenes’ speeches frequently mention trade with ports in Phoenicia and Anatolia and occasionally allude casually to piracy, a classic by-product of such trading activity. There is epigraphic evidence for piracy as well: in the 340s Athens honoured Cleomis, tyrant of Methymna on Lesbos, for ransoming a number of Athenians captured by pirates. Lesbos had always enjoyed trading links with the Black Sea region, and in the 4th century more than ever. One should imagine Athenians and metic Athenian traders (i.e., foreigners resident at Athens) going in numbers via Lesbos and the Sea of Marmara to the rich granaries of southern Russia. Some no doubt settled in these regions, though the inscriptional evidence for Athenians abroad in the 4th century (as opposed to evidence for foreigners settling in Athens or Piraeus) is in need of systematic collation.

Immigration and free movement of individuals between one polis and another are typical features of the 4th century. They are best documented for Athens but hardly confined to it, given the attractiveness of the royal and satrapal courts. At Athens itself, the great magnet for immigrants was naturally Piraeus, the city’s densely populated, multilingual, multiracial port. Bilingual inscriptions in the Archaeological Museum of Piraeus, in Greek and Aramaic, testify to the presence of Phoenician traders, who also left more strictly epigraphic traces. (Conversely, Greco-Aramaic stelae in the Archaeological Museums in Istanbul may attest Greek or partially Greek settlements in the Persian empire.) An inscription of the period of Alexander, from the Piraeus, records the response of the Athenian Assembly to the request of some merchants from Cyprus for permission to build a sanctuary to Aphrodite (the goddess, born in the sea, allegedly stepped ashore on Cyprus). The inscription mentions, as a precedent for the request, the Temple of Isis founded by the Egyptian community.

Foreign cults of that kind were not by any means brand-new in the late 5th century; if they seem so, it may be because that period is so much better documented than the early part of the century. But they may have increased in number in Greece as a result of the geographically extensive campaigning of the Peloponnesian War and even the period of the Athenian empire. The cult of Adonis is referred to in Plutarch’s “Life of Nicias,” which also mentions the Amon oracle. Thracian as well as Egyptian cults arrived in Greece in the late 5th century. The cult of the Thracian goddess Bendis at Piraeus features in the first page of Plato’s Republic; Bendis was perhaps a female counterpart to the Thracian Hero. Cults were both imported and exported: one of the vessels from Rogozen depicts the Greek myth of Heracles and Auge, labeled as such. This is a reminder that the old Olympian cults remained strong. In fact, some of the best evidence for traditional Greek religion comes from this period; it was the century of the highly informative and basically conservative Attic deme calendars (i.e., lists of festivals, chronologically arranged through the year) and the period when inscriptional information about the great Panhellenic sanctuaries entered its richest phase.

Mercenary service, as well as organized campaigning, must have helped to raise consciousness of such foreign cults as those of Isis or Bendis. Greeks often served in Thrace in the late 5th and the 4th centuries; Xenophon, for example, was there at the beginning of the 4th century and heard the so-called “Ballad of Sitalces” (a 5th-century Thracian ruler who is featured in Thucydides) sung at a banquet in Paphlagonia.

Mercenaries constituted one category of Greeks who strayed away from their cities; they were a potentially disruptive force, whether from the point of view of polis-minded Greeks or of autocrats like Artaxerxes III or Alexander the Great. Nobody, however, could dispense with them. The Persian kings used Greek mercenaries in their repeated attempts to recover Egypt in the 4th century—but so did the defending Egyptians.

How far inside the Persian empire these Greek mercenaries penetrated is an intriguing question. An inscription first published during World War II appeared to attest a group of Greek mercenaries on an island in the Persian Gulf in the period before Alexander, but it is possible that the text is actually early Hellenistic. Even Spartans like Agesilaus near the end of his life and Thebans like the general Pammenes in the 350s had to hire themselves out to Persian paymasters, whether loyalist or insurrectionist. (It would be better to speak, in this context, not of mercenaries but of “citizen-mercenaries” because these Thebans and Spartans did not cease to belong to their home cities.) The military monarchies of Dionysius and Philip were to some extent propped up by mercenary forces, whose loyalty was not subject to political but only to financial blandishments. That observation leads to the conclusion that the mercenary soldier valued his booty (aposkeue, literally “baggage”) more than he valued his commander. One of the early successors of Alexander the Great, the Greek Eumenes of Cardia, was in effect traded by his troops to a rival for gain. Already under Alexander the elite troops known as “Silver Shields,” or argyraspides, had taken their name from the conquered Persian treasure of precious metal.

Organized settlements

Not all interchange between poleis, or all emigration from the polis into nonpolis areas of settlement, however, was of the haphazard kind caused by mercenary service or the peripatetic life-style of artists and craftsmen. Rather, the poleis themselves promoted much organized activity.

First, old ties might be strengthened by renegotiation, or more-explicit reaffirmation, of old colonial connections. Inscriptions survive from the 4th century that accord rights of citizenship on a footing of mutuality, for instance, between Miletus and Olbia and between Thera and Cyrene. Some old connections of alliance might be inflated into a pseudo-colonial link. Thus, Hellenistic Plataea, as noted earlier, called itself a “colony” of Athens, which strictly it was not. That claim may well go back to the 4th century, and there is good evidence for other such fabricated claims of kinship in the latter part of that century. An inscription, for example, asserts a colonial connection between Argos and Aspendus in Pamphylia. This is certainly unhistorical but can be explained from the greater prominence enjoyed, in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, by Argos. The reason was that Argos could itself claim a connection with the Macedon of Alexander, and that kind of connection was desirable for obtaining privileges from him or from his successors.

The founding, building, or synoecizing of new cities was another way in which mobility of population was actually encouraged by the poleis themselves. The process is traditionally (and rightly) associated with Alexander the Great himself, but the emphasis is unjust to some innovatory activity in the later 5th and 4th centuries both by individuals (not least Philip) and by cities.

In the late 5th century Olynthus had been synoecized into existence by Perdiccas of Macedon, and the Rhodians had merged the three cities of their island into a new physical and political entity. The same was done in the 360s by the communities of the Dorian island of Cos. Mausolus’s new capital of Halicarnassus was the result of a synoecism in which Greeks and native Carians (“Lelegians”) were integrated into a new city, which was physically beautified with monumental buildings. Moreover, one can make a case for associating Mausolus with the various refoundations or moving of sites that different kinds of evidence suggest took place at Priene, Erythrae, and Heraclea. Epaminondas’s interventions in the Peloponnese led to major urbanization projects at Messene and Arcadian Megalopolis, where the Spartan defeat at Leuctra in 371 may have given an immediate impetus to the new foundation (the alternative date is about 368 and is less likely).

More-traditional methods of moving people, such as colonization, were also used; at the beginning of the 4th century, Xenophon includes a warm and lyrical description in the Anabasis of a site called Kalpe on the Black Sea, praising its situation, fertility, and relative remoteness from rival and established Greek cities in the vicinity. This gives substance to the suspicion that what Xenophon was really trying to do was found a colony of Archaic type—the Euboeans of the 8th century would have jumped at a site with Kalpe’s advantages of situation. In the 340s Timoleon of Corinth effected a kind of recolonization of Syracuse from the old mother city; he took with him many refugees and brought prosperity back to an island much battered by internal dissension and endless wars with the Carthaginians—against whom he himself scored some notable successes.

Athens sent a colony to the west in the time of Alexander and the wheat shortage; it was led with symbolic or sentimental appropriateness by a man called Miltiades (the name of the 6th-century founder and dynast ruling in the Chersonese), who went to the Adriatic region. The Adriatic seems to have been a favourite colonizing focus in this period: the scale and even reality of Dionysius’s interventions there are controversial, but an inscription gives evidence of a Greek colony on the island of Black Corcyra. The great colonizing surge of the 4th century came, however, in the wake of Alexander; once again, the Ionian Greeks took the lead, just as, on Thucydides’ evidence, they had colonized Ionia itself even before the organized phase of colonizing activity in the 8th century.

Also in the 4th century a great number of citizenships were granted to individuals from whom favours were expected or by whom they had already been conferred, or both. (One standard motive, occasionally made explicit, for the recording of such honours in permanent form was to induce the recipient to continue his generosity.) Most of the evidence is Athenian, but the phenomenon was surely not confined to Athens. Even Persian satraps like Orontes could be enrolled as Athenian citizens, not to mention Macedonians like Menelaus the Pelagonian, a king of the Lyncestians (an independent Macedonian subkingdom until annexed by Philip). Menelaus received citizenship in the 360s because he was reported by the Athenian general Timotheus as helping Athens in its wars in the north. A further and frequent motive for such honours, and one that anticipates the Hellenistic age, is an expression of gratitude for gifts of grain. The Spartocid kings of the Bosporus (southern Russia) were honoured because they had promised to provide Athens with wheat, as their father Leucon had done before them.

That kind of benefaction is called euergetism (the word derives from euergesia, or “doing good deeds”). Now that Athens no longer had the naval power to direct all grain forcibly toward its own harbours, much had to be done by exploiting benefactors. Euergetism of this sort, however, was not entirely new: as early as 444 bce, Egyptian grain in large quantites had been sent by a rebel pharaoh at a time when Athens was certainly not (as it gradually became) a city armed merely with a cultural past and a begging bowl.