(484 – 425 BCE)
1. The Punch
Archie and I materialised in a market place in Thurii – an Athenian colony during the fifth century BCE. It was a sunny late spring day. Sicily was warm but the light breeze made the heat bearable. Recalling his own days in Syracuse, Archie looked around him with satisfaction. He felt at home.
A tall man, with a balding head and long beard, was surrounded by a group of eager listeners. He was telling them details of the wars between Persia and Greece, referring to the courage of the Spartans at the Thermopylae and the heroics of the Greek navy in Salamis. His voice fell and rose as he talked; and members of the audience applauded whenever he narrated the end of an event.
He then proceeded to tell them about the wonders of Egypt, of the Eastern European realm (currently Ukraine) and, to my surprise, of North Africa. He spent some twenty minutes on the history of Babylon and even mentioned the Assyrians. Had he really been to that part of the ancient world?
When the session was over Herodotus turned to Archie and me with patent curiosity. Did he sense that neither of us was flesh and blood?
“And who are you two?” he wanted to know.
“I am Archimedes, man of Syracuse, and this here is my friend Peter’le.”
“From where are you heading?”
“From a haven in purgatory. Lord Pan transported us back in time so that Peter’le would be able to keep his rendezvous with you.”
“Lord Pan?” Herodotus let his surprise show.
“You may have heard of him,” countered Archie sarcastically, having been stung to the quick because Herodotus did not recognise his name. Odd to say, Archie ignored the fact that Herodotus had lived some two hundred years before himself.
“I know who he is; and you are a rude fellow. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”
“She told me that yokels like you ought to be hit before they can turn on innocent beings. And as to rudeness: you don’t have a monopoly,” retorted an incensed Archie.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I interceded. “Both of you are amongst the greatest heralds of Greek culture. You shouldn’t to snarl at one another like hungry wolves. How could Herodotus have heard your name, Archie? He lived long before you!”
To calm my enraged friend further, I gave him a biographical sketch of the great historian. Having been expelled from Halicarnassus – his birthplace – by a tyrant, Herodotus had travelled widely all over the world. He tried to settle in Athens, and accepted its traditions and cultural outlook. Still, at his time citizenship was not granted to foreigners. So, Herodotus volunteered to move to Thurii, one of Athens first colonies in Sicily. While residing there he wrote his history of the Persian wars, known as The Histories. When Archie nodded, I went on to discuss the nature of the tome.
“Well put. But who is he?” Herodotus asked, pointing his finger at Archie.
“The greatest Greek mathematician.”
“Oh, the sort of chap who tells schoolchildren that 2 + 2 is 4?”
“Even you can do this, you nincompoop!” yelled Archie.
“What a hot temper,” grinned Herodotus. “Well, if you can’t even teach, what do you do for a living?”
“I have worked out many puzzles,” retorted Archie. “For instance, I can calculate the measures of a hyperbola and a parabola. Can you do this?”
“Of course not. And, tell me, you bumpkin: what would I do with the answer? What use would it be to me or any other sensible man?”
“It might improve your confused mind,” summed up Archie.
“But can your calculations be of practical use to anybody?”
“Of course they can. I worked out a system of mirrors that should have put the Roman Navy on fire when it attacked Syracuse.”
“And did your strategy save your town?” Herodotus wanted to know.
“It didn’t,” admitted Archie sadly. “The Roman admiral changed the formation of his ships.”
“So, your calculations were useless,” pointed out Herodotus, smirking gleefully.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I stepped in again. “I see no reason for discord. Archie is a conceptualist and you, Herodotus, are a pragmatist.”
“But who are you? And why don’t you mind your own business?” bellowed Herodotus, reminding me that, in real life, an objective observer frequently incurred the two combatants’ wrath.
“Should I perhaps attend to my task straightaway?” I asked innocently.
“You might as well,” prompted Archie. “Why waste time?”
Herodotus nodded. Without further ado I stepped forward and punched him. For just a second he clung to a stool but then toppled over with a scream. Instantly, Archie and I stepped over and helped him back to his feet. Archie, to my delight, brushed Herodotus’ apparel and spoke to him soothingly.
2. Herodotos’ Writings Analysed
For a few moments Herodotus remained speechless. Then, as he recovered his voice, he addressed me firmly: “Are you a nut? To start with you are ‘Mr Nice’. You try to make peace between Archie and me. I even begin to think you may be alright. And then, for no reason, you punch me. Are you out of your mind or did you flush it down this morning?”
“Isn’t that an anachronism? I didn’t think you primitives had flush toilets,” I averred.
“We didn’t,” conceded Archie. “But we were not ‘primitives’!”
“This time Archie is right,” supplanted Herodotus. “We are Greeks. The rest of the world is barbarian and hence primitive. Still, you better tell me what twist of mind motivated your cowardly assault on an old man!”
“It’s my mission!”
“What mission?”
Herodotus’ eyes opened wide when I explained to him the nature of my assignment. He then wanted to know what was Archie’s role. He looked relieved when I explained Archie was a mere observer. He had no mandate to punch anyone.
I thought all was settled when Archie raised the telling point. He wanted to know why I considered Herodotus one of the greatest men in human history. Wasn’t a great mathematician superior to a mere historian? A mathematician was a Master of Science and a prince of the arts. A historian, in contrast, was a teller of stories, a base chronicler.
He was appeased when I explained that Herodotus was not just ‘some historian’. He was the ‘Father of History’. True, the Bible and the Iliad related events. They even included some pedigrees. Herodotus, though, was the first person to examine the causes and effects of sociological and political developments. To discern the causes of the war between Persia and Greece, he investigated relevant histories and events and explained the connections between them. He was not a mere narrator. For this reason, Herodotus occupied a special place in human history. All later historians – even men of genius like Thucydides and Polibius – played a secondary role. They advanced the new science but did not form disciplines.
“But didn’t Herodotus tell us fairy tales about ‘gold digging, giant ants’ and remarkable marmots?”
“So he did. And he told us some strange tales about a Persian monarch. According to Herodotus, Xerxes lashed the Hellespont with iron chains because a storm damaged the crossing fleet – a stupid act to attribute to a fine military leader who coordinated the advance of his forces by sea and on land. Worse than this – Herodotus told us strange tales about countries he may have never visited.”
“He is the ‘Father of all Lies’,” pointed out Archie. “And you, Peter’le, have elevated him to a pedestal. He lacks the integrity and objectivity of a pure scientist.”
“But I never claimed to be a scientist,” protested Herodotus. “I am a logios – a teller of remote events. I must embellish my narrations with anecdotes and stories bound to appeal to my audience. If I don’t, they may walk out on me; and I won’t earn a living. And, you know, I always distinguished between what I was told and what I thought had actually taken place. I may have been fooled: but I am not a knave!”
“That’s why history respected him, Archie. Herodotus may have erred on many occasions but he gives you a sound and, yes, analytical reconstruction of political conflicts and of wars. I do admire his work. True, Thucydides is great. But isn’t he sometimes vague and boring?”
“Thanks for your support, Mr Nose-Puncher. But please tell me about later loggie.
Whose lead did they follow?”
“They pretended to follow Thucydides’ objectivity but usually were much more biased than you. When I read your Histories, I wasn’t certain who was your hero. When I read Lord Macaulay’s History of England, I realised he worshipped William of Orange. I was aghast when I found out from other records that, far from standing by the helm of his lead ship, William was sucking a lemon in his cabin, green with seasickness. And the Japanese official records conveniently forget all about the massacre of the population of Nanjing. ‘Objectivity’ is easy to preach but hard to attain.”
“So it is,” conceded Archie. “So, all in all, you have chosen well.”
“Except that my nose is painful,” grumbled Herodotus.