We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
Published online by Cambridge University Press: 11 February 2009
Significant dreams, like omens and oracles, play a conspicuous part in Herodotus′ narrative; the prominence which he affords to them well illustrates the difference between his approach to historiography and that of Thucydides, in whose work we shall look in vain for nocturnal visions. From the point of view of the scientific historian reports of dreams are inadmissible evidence, resting as they must on the unverifiable testimony of a single witness whose recollection is very likely to have been influenced by subsequent events. Herodotus′ more hospitable attitude in part reflects his incalculable debt to the traditions of Levantine storytelling; but it is also connected with the central position occupied by kings and other powerful individuals in his narrative. Homer bears witness to the belief that the dreams of kings are more likely to be divinely inspired than those of others (II. 2.80–2.83), and throughout the Near East rulers recorded the achievements which resulted from monitions received in sleep; if royal dreams assumed a more lucid and orderly form than most people could well parallel from their own experience, this might be regarded as a natural corollary of the peculiar link between king and gods.
1 See further Dodds, E. R., The Greeks and the Irrational (Berkeley–Los Angeles, 1951), 102–134Google Scholar, Ehrlich, E. L., Der Traum im Allen Testament (Beiheft zur Zeitschriftf. die Alttestamenlliche Wissenschaft 73, Berlin, 1953)Google Scholar, Oppenheim, A. L., The Interpretation of Dreams in the Ancient Near East (Transactions of the American Philosophical Society N.S. 46 (1956), 179–255).Google Scholar
2 The monograph by Peter Frisch, Die Traume bei Herodot (Beitrdge zur klass. Philologie 27, Meisenheim am Glan, 1968) is extremely superficialGoogle Scholar; cf. Marg, W., Gnomon 42 (1970), 515–517.Google Scholar
3 Herodotus is careful to stress that these chapters form a continuous and unitary account: note the repeated 
(both with and without 
) at 99.2, 100.1, 101.1, 102.2, 107.1, 109.1, 111.1, 112.1, 113.1, 116.1, 118.1, 120.1, 121.1, 122.1, 124.1, 127.1, 136.1, 139.1
4 Detlev Fehling has directed attention to the problems posed by Herodotus′ source–citations (Die Quellenangaben bei Herodot, Berlin, 1971); it is good to see that his arguments are now being taken seriously: cfGoogle Scholar. Immerwahr, H. R., CHCL (Cambridge, 1985), i.439f.Google Scholar
5 Min (99.2) is correctly placed first, but about eight millennia too early (cf. 142.1). Sesostris (102ff.), who represents one or more of the Senwosrets of Dynasty xii, is set about five hundred years too late, two generations before the Trojan War. The position assigned to the pyramidbuilders, Cheops, Chephren and Mycerinus (124–135), the last of whom is separated from Psammetichus by only three generations, is a long–standing embarrassment; cf. Lloyd, A. B., Herodotus Book ii: Introduction (Leiden, 1975), 188f.Google Scholar
6 Reflected in the Iliad (9.381–9.3814); see further Burkert, W., ‘Das hunderttorige Theben u. die Datierung der Ilias’, WSt N.F. 10 (1976), 5ff. Herodotus′ extremely sketchy treatment of a site rich in monuments, and of obvious interest to anyone familiar with Homer, remains a strong argument against his claim to have been in Upper Egypt, despite Lloyd′s ingenious attempt to defend his veracity (Introduction 73–5; n. on 29.1); much of the indictment set out by A. H. Sayce more than a century ago (JPh 14 (1885), 257ff.) retains its force. What Herodotus says he was shown at Thebes (143) does nothing to diminish such suspicions: see further Fehling, op. cit. (n. 4), 59–66.Google Scholar
7 Cf. Wiedemann, How and Wells ad loc.
8 Though Herodotus did not understand its purpose; cf. 14.2, which clearly reveals his failure to appreciate the importance of the laboriously maintained irrigation system.
9 Cf. (e.g.) his ascription to the Median Deioces of the rituals generally characteristic of Oriental courts (1.99). On the importance of the concept of the 
see A. Kleingunther, 
, Philologus Suppl. 26.1 (1933), esp. 40–65.
10 Omitted from Oppenheim′s assemblage of dream–reports from ancient Near Eastern sources (op. cit. (n. 1), 245–55), though Sethos′ dream (141) is included.
11 Frisch is surely wholly mistaken in supposing Herodotus to have regarded all dreams as significant (op. cit. (n. 2), 61): ‘Herodot referiert uns Ziige des Traumglaubens seiner Zeit, fuhrt sie aber ad absurdum. Fiir ihn sind alle Traume bedeutsam und alle Traume erfiillen sich. Als entschiedener Verfechter der Giiltigkeit aller Traume stellt sich Herodot bewusst in Gegensatz zu den Anschauungen mancher seiner Zeitgenossen.’ In a work of literature we may expect to find reported only dreams deemed to be significant.
12 ‘Es gibt keinen Bericht im Werke Herodots, dem wir mit unseren Vorstellungen von gerechter Weltordnung und von Schuld und Verdienst der Menschen ratloser gegeniiberstehen als dem von Schicksal des Mykerinos’ (J. Kirchberg, Die Funktion der Orakel im Werke des Herodots (Gottingen, 1965), 45). The disconcerting element in this story lies in the oracle′s explanation for the comparative brevity of Mycerinus′ reign (133.3), as alien to Egyptian conceptions of Ma′at as to Greek ideas of the justice of Zeus. Granted that some apologia was felt to be needed for the relative shortness of Mycerinus′ reign compared with those of his wicked father and uncle (a notion apparently suggested by the size of their respective pyramids), it is not difficult to think of less demoralising alternatives (hereditable guilt (cf. 1.91, 7.134–7), or a reward for piety (cf. 1.31.4–5, 7.46.3–4), or punishment for (alleged) incest with his daughter (131)). It is surely significant that his attempt to frustrate the oracle is linked with what must be a Greek aetiology for the festival of the 
(described at 62), just as his daughter′s early death is associated with an evidently Greek account of rites in honour of Osiris (129–32). (The pathos of Mycerinus′ story is of course considerably reduced if we pay any attention to Herodotus′ indications of chronology, since, though his reign might be short, he could not be less than sixty–three at the time of his death.)
13 So, e.g., Macan, How and Wells ad loc, Lloyd–Jones, H., The Justice of Zeus (Berkeley–Los Angeles, 1971), 61Google Scholar, Nilsson, M. P., Geschichte der griech. Religion (Munich, 1967), i.760.Google Scholar
14 For a penetrating analysis of this section see Immerwahr, H. R., TAPhA 85(1954), 34f.Google Scholar; see also von Fritz, K., Die griech. Geschichtsschreibung (Berlin, 1967), i.249.Google Scholar
15 Cf. 6.86 y.
16 Nothing of the sort was observable at Sardis in spring 480: see How and Wells ad loc. We have here a palmary instance of the tendency of tradition to synchronize eclipses with notable events; see further Henige, D., Oral Historiography (London–New York–Lagos, 1982), 102f.Google Scholar, Demandt, A., ‘Verformungstendenzen in der Uberlieferung antiker Sonnen–u. Mondfinsternisse’. AAWM 1970, 7.Google Scholar
17 Contrast 1.74 (Lydians and Medes are moved to make peace as a result of an eclipse).
18 Cf. Plu. Quaest. Rom. Ill (129Od) (Boeotian custom); for a (mythical) human victim cf. Apollod. Bibl. 3, 173 (13.7) (Astydameia, at the hands of Peleus).
19 ‘A propos d′un rituel hittite pour la lustration d′une armee: le rite de purification par le passage entre les deux parties d′une victime’, RHR 137 (1950), 5–25Google Scholar; see also Pritchett, W. K., The Greek State at War (Berkeley–Los Angeles, 1979), iii. 196–202Google Scholar, Parker, R. C. T., Miasma (Oxford, 1983), 22f.Google Scholar
20 A restriction of which Herodotus seems strangely unconscious.
21 This section of Diodorus′ work (1.43–68) is undoubtedly based ultimately on Herodotus, but the use of another authority is implied by the presence of material not found in Herodotus and by Diodorus′ animadversions on his predecessor′s methods (cf. in particular 1.69.7 
) Whether he himself was responsible for correlating Herodotus and another source, or simply followed a work in which this had already been done, is not clear and does not matter here. See further Anne Burton, Diodorus Siculus, Book 1: a Commentary (Leiden, 1972), 25–9.
22 See above, n. 12.
23 See further Lexikon der Xgyptologie v (Wiesbaden, 1984), s.v. Sedfest. On the Rosetta Stone 
(0G1 90.2) is used to render the expression denoting a Serf–period; but periods both longer and shorter than thirty years are attested.
24 For the prospect of military activity as the occasion for a significant dream cf. 1.209 (Cyrus), 6.107.1 (Hippias), 7.12–19 (Xerxes and Artabanus); see further Bichler, R., Chiron 15(1985),Google Scholar
25 Some have thought that what Herodotus took to be a personal name is the priestly title slm. (We may compare the misconception of 111.1, where Pheros is treated as a king′s name; Patizeithes (3.61.3; 63.4) may reflect a similar misunderstanding.) It was tentatively suggested by J. Krall (MPER 6 (1897), 1 n. 3) that the legendary magician, Prince Khaemwese (historically a son of Rameses II), who regularly bears this title, is Herodotus′ Sethos, and this chapter is accordingly included in G. Maspero′s Popular Stories of Ancient Egypt (London, 1915, translated by Mrs Johns, C. H. W. from the fourth (1911) edition of Les Contes populaires de VEgypte ancienne) under the title ‘How Satni–Khamois triumphed over the Assyrians’. But this identification seems to me rather implausible. As a figure of legend Khaemwese′s distinctive quality is his pre–eminence in magic, and he is hardly recognizable transformed into an exemplum of conventional piety. For the Khaemwese stories see M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature (Berkeley–Los Angeles–London, 1980), iii. 125–51. It has also been suggested that Sethos may represent Seti, wildly displaced from the proper chronological situation.Google Scholar
26 However we interpret the much discussed dream sent to Agariste a few days before Pericles′ birth (6.131.2), it would hardly have laid to rest the anxieties natural to an expectant mother.
27 Cf. 30; 161.4ff. (It is of interest for Herodotus′ methods of composition that he postpones his account of the place of the 
in the Egyptian caste system to the point where they become relevant to the Greeks (164).)
28 Herodotus seems uncertain about Sennacherib′s place in the world; he introduces him as 
and subsequently refers to his army as 
This inaccuracy might be regarded as further support (if any is needed) for the orthodox interpretation of Herodotus′ apparently unfulfilled promise of 
(1.106.2; 184); he was, I suggest, aware that he needed to do more work in this area, and intended to pass on to his audience the fruits of his enquiries. There is, similarly, an unfinished look about the abrupt reference to five hundred and twenty years of Assyrian rule with which he introduces the story of Deioces (1.95.2) immediately after a rather formal preface to an account of Cyrus′ origins; I suspect that this uncharacteristically clumsy opening is a stopgap, intended to serve merely until Herodotus had informed himself more fully about the Assyrian empire. I imagine that he continued to tinker with his work as long as he lived; there was no reason why he should envisage a deadline after which no further alterations were possible. For two rather different approaches to the question of his 
see Macqueen, J. G., CQ 28 (1978), 284–291CrossRefGoogle Scholar, Erbse, H., Ausgewdhlte Schriften z. klass. Philologie (Berlin–New York, 1979), 162–169.Google Scholar
29 i.e. Ptah; but no Greek writer of the classical period uses the name, and Herodotus probably did not know it.
30 Wilhelm Spiegelberg, surveying the surviving remains of Egyptian sculpture sixty years ago, could produce no parallel Die Giaubwurdigkeit von Herodots Bericht iiber Agypten im Lichte der dgyptischen Denkmdler (Heidelberg, 1926), 26fGoogle Scholar. (Engl. translation by Blackman, A. W., The Credibility of Herodotus′ Account of Egypt in the Light of the Egyptian Monuments (Oxford, 1927), 26f.). Subsequent Egyptological discovery does not appear to have brought to light anything like the statue which Herodotus describes: ‘Das in diesem Zusammenhang genannte Standbild hat aber wohl keine Maus in der Hand, sondern einen Blindstab’ (E. Brunner–Traut, Lexikon d. Agyptologie s.v. Maus). Herodotus does not claim to have seen the statue himself – just as well, since it stood within the temple precincts (
) and was thus out of bounds to the laity, whether native or Greek.Google Scholar
31 Cf. 99.4, 101.2, 110, 112.1, 121.1, 136.1.
32 As Spiegelberg showed (op. cit. (n. 30), 25f.), this tale was inspired by the convention of representing the triumphant pharaoh with his feet set on the heads of his prostrate foes, who are depicted on a smaller scale; see further Wildung, D., ‘Der Konig Agyptens als Herr der Welt?’, Archivf Orientforschung 24 (1973), 108–116 (I am indebted for this reference to Professor J. R. Baines).Google Scholar
33 See above, n. 12.
34 This narrative presents several difficulties; in particular, the reference to ‘Tirhakah, king of Ethiopia’ (2 Kings 19.9, Isaiah 37.9) is hard to reconcile with the other data, since the reign of the Nubian king more commonly known as Taharka began only in 689. It has been suggested that Esarhaddon′s unsuccessful campaign of 675 has been confused with Sennacherib′s western campaign a quarter of a century earlier.
35 It would be better to compare the slaughter of the first–born of Egypt (Exodus 12.29), a catastrophe not similarly amenable to epidemiological rationalisation.
36 There was no hard and fast distinction between mice and rats in classical antiquity; the species of rat familiar to us, the black rat (mus rattus ater) and the brown or common rat (mus norvegicus a misnomer), come from Central Asia and were then unknown in Europe and the lands around the Mediterranean. (It is interesting to read Aelian′s horrified description of the rats found near the Caspian, based on the report of Alexander′s bematist Amyntas (NA 17.17; FGrHist 122 F 3).)
37 Cf. Sch. Aon//. 1.39
38 On 
‘mouse’ see Pfeiffer on Callim. fr. 177.16.
39 ώς Holzinger (on Lye. 1303): oνς codd.
40 So W. Aly, Volksmdrchen, Sage u. Novelle bei Herodol u. seinen Zeitgenossen (Gottingen, 1921), 69f, Legrand ad loc, W. Leaf, Strabo and the Troad (Cambridge, 1923), 244f.Google Scholar
41 His pilgrimage, which became the subject of a cycle of fantastic legends, forms the theme of the long sixteenth–century comic novel familiar to many English readers in Arthur Waley′s translation under the title Monkey. For an attractive brief account of Hsiian Tsang see Waley, A., The Real Tripitaka (London, 1952), 9–130.Google Scholar
42 Memoires relatifs a I′Asie (Paris, 1826), ii.296–299.Google Scholar
43 A. W. Lawrence is an honourable exception (The History of Herodotus of Halicarnassus, the translation of G. Rawlinson revisedGoogle Scholar and anotated by Lawrence, A. W. (London, 1935), 222), but his brief reference is not very helpful.Google Scholar
44 Si–yu–ki: Buddhist Records of the Western World, translated from the Chinese of Hiuen– Tsiang (A.D. 629) by Samuel Beal (London, 1884), ii.315f. This episode occurred near the end of Hsiian Tsang′s homeward journey, in 645; the Herodotean parallel did not escape Beal.
45 Huns.
46 Khotan.
47 (Sir) Stein, Aurel M., Ancient Khotan (Oxford, 1907), 119f., Plate lxiiiGoogle Scholar; On Ancient Central–Asian Tracks (London, 1933), 62, Fig. 30.Google Scholar
48 O′Connor, W. F., Folk Tales from Tibet (London, 1906), 133–140. O′Connor notes that many of the best known Tibetan stories had been imported bodily from India or China, but was evidently unaware of Hsiian Tsang′s story.Google Scholar
49 This case well illustrates the difficulty of demarcating material relevant to Mdrchenforschung; it would be absurd to discuss the Tibetan story without regard to its Khotanese and Greek congeners.
50 I do not think that we can tell whether Herotodus was himself responsible for giving this turn to the legend of Croesus′ end; on this much discussed episode see, most recently, Burkert, W., ‘Das Ende des Kroisos: Vorstufen einer Herodoteischen Geschichtserzahlung’, Catalepton. Festschrift f. Bernhard Wyss (Basel, 1985), 4–15.Google Scholar
51 See further Zhirmunsky, V., ‘The Epic of “Alpamysh” and the Return of Odysseus’, PBA 52 (1966), 267–286.Google Scholar
52 It is a pity to see it included, without qualification, under Agypten in the Enzyklopadie des Marchens (Berlin, 1977), i.211f. (E. Brunner–Traut).
53 See further Lloyd on Hdt. 2.67, E. Brunner–Traut, Lexikon der Agyptologie s.vv. Ichneumon, Spitzmaus, NAWG 1965, 157ff.Google Scholar
54 The application of this theory to the crocodile (1.89) is particularly ingenious.
55 This explanation is offered in connection with that ancient scandal of Herodotean exegesis, the winged snakes whose remains he claims to have himself inspected; see further Fehling, op. cit. (n. 4), 20–23.
56 See further Froidefond, C., Le Mirage egyplien dans la Htterature grecque d′Homere a Aristote (Aix–en–Provence, 1971), 202f.Google Scholar
57 Here, as with his interpretation of Sesostris′ victory inscription (106.4), Herodotus appears to feel no disquiet about an inscription which, though expressed in the first person, fails to record its subject′s identity and thus neglects what to our minds might seem its primary function.
