Hostname: page-component-586b7cd67f-l7hp2 Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-11-26T00:14:52.093Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false

Alexander and empire: a commentary on a new testimony to Onesicritus (Sen. Ben. 7.2.5)

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  05 November 2024

Julian Degen*
Affiliation:
University of Trier
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

This article is a commentary on a recently discovered testimony to Onesicritus, in which the writer speaks about his role as participant in the expedition of Alexander. It will be argued that the ideological backdrop of the testimony was Alexander’s claim to universalism, which was intended to be a response to the ancient Near Eastern discourse on empire. Alexander adopted ideological concepts of successful rulership used by the Achaemenids in order to stabilize control in Asia. For this purpose, he claimed to have carried his conquest to the Ocean, which implied universalism. That claim was the main theme in Onesicritus’ account and established the literary atmosphere in which the writer determined his role during the navigation of the Indian Ocean.

Type
Research Article
Creative Commons
Creative Common License - CCCreative Common License - BY
This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted re-use, distribution and reproduction, provided the original article is properly cited.
Copyright
© The Author(s), 2024. Published by Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies

I. Introduction

Although research on Alexander III (the Great) has increasingly focused on the lost accounts of the so-called primary authors in recent years, comparatively little attention has been paid to Onesicritus (probably of Astypalaea; BNJ 134).Footnote 1 The major publication on this author is still the thoughtful commentary on the fragments published over ten years ago by Michael Whitby.Footnote 2 However, discussion is expected to intensify, since Reinhold Bichler recently drew attention to a hitherto unnoticed reference to Onesicritus in Seneca the Younger’s De beneficiis. This reference needs to be considered as a biographical testimony to Onesicritus recounting his tasks as a participant in Alexander’s expedition in the course of naval missions, rather than a fragment deriving from his still-lost account.Footnote 3 Whereas Onesicritus’ life and much of his literary production are shrouded in mystery, the information provided by Seneca can contribute much to our understanding of his literary aims. There are two reasons which may justify an exhaustive treatment of this testimony. First, simply the fact that this passage went unnoticed in Felix Jacoby’s Die Fragmente der Griechischen Historiker and in its follow-up project Brill’s New Jacoby is remarkable. This implies that it was not considered to be significant evidence in the discussion of either Alexander or Onesicritus. Then, although Bichler’s article is a truly important contribution to the overall discussion on this little-known writer, he leaves it to future studies to gauge what can be inferred from it.Footnote 4

The present study intends to fill this gap, as a commentary discussing the testimony against the backdrop of the accounts of the earliest writers about Alexander. It will be argued here that Alexander’s claim to universalism was the prevailing theme in Onesicritus’ account, which also established the literary atmosphere in which the author determined his role as a participant in Alexander’s expedition. In addition, I attempt to show that Alexander promoted universalism by claiming successful conquest up to the Ocean. In this way, he responded to the Great Kings’ imperial representation and thus met the expectations of his Asian subjects, who were accustomed to Achaemenid concepts of legitimation.

The brief mention of Onesicritus in Seneca’s work can be divided into two related segments. Whilst the first is about his tasks, the focus of the second concerns Seneca’s own interpretation based on his reading of Onesicritus.Footnote 5 Both segments are equally important for examining the original intention of Onesicritus’ account. I shall begin with the first.

II. Onesicritus, scout and conqueror

As every reader of Seneca’s works knows, he sometimes uses Alexander as a moral exemplum to illustrate Stoic ideals.Footnote 6 With the intention of exemplifying the values of the ideal Stoic man, Seneca refers to Alexander’s insatiable appetite for conquest as an antithesis. In Seneca’s opinion, only the state of freedom from urges can prevent what he calls ‘mental confusion’ (distorquentibus mentem, Ben. 7.2.4). The central message of Seneca’s essay is that the ultimate objective of Stoic doctrine, that of attaining sapientia, can be achieved only if one relinquishes all ambitious struggles with other men (7.2).Footnote 7 By following these instructions, it is possible to become a wise man (sapiens), he who ultimately possesses everything (7.2.5, 6.2). All this means that in referring to Alexander the philosopher does not rebuke him on principle for being a conqueror; instead he points to the Macedonian ruler’s never-ending lust for conquest as his most obvious negative trait, which definitely does not correspond with Stoic maxims. Hence, the wise man who is freed from such desires shall possess much more than Alexander could ever have conquered. For the purpose of exemplifying this maxim, Seneca refers to Alexander as an antithesis to the Stoic ideals, at which point he thinks of Onesicritus (7.2.5):

Et ne illum existimes paruo esse contentum, omnia illius sunt, non sic, quemadmodum Alexandri fuerunt, cui, quamquam in litore rubri maris steterat, plus deerat, quam qua uenerat. Illius ne ea quidem erant, quae tenebat aut uicerat, cum in oceano Onesicritus praemissus explorator erraret et bella in ignoto mari quaereret.

And do not suppose that he [sc. the ideal Stoic] is content with a little—all things are his, and not in the sense in which they were Alexander’s, who, although he stood upon the shore of the Indian Ocean, had need of more territory than he had passed through. Nor did he even own the kingdoms that he was holding or had conquered, while Onesicritus, who had been sent ahead, roamed as scout over the Ocean and stirred up war by sea in the unknown sea.Footnote 8

What makes this passage so important is Seneca’s designation of Onesicritus’ roles as those of scout and conqueror. Based on the available evidence, the majority of scholars have regarded him as a Cynic philosopher in Alexander’s entourage who had written an account in which philosophy, utopia and fiction were blended together.Footnote 9 However, in recent years, commentators have begun to doubt Onesicritus’ role as a philosopher, instead viewing him as a flatterer of Alexander.Footnote 10 Therefore, Seneca’s statement is an unexpected but welcome contribution to the discussion, which merits serious investigation.

The fact that Onesicritus occurred to Seneca is surprising, since his interest in his work is limited. No other fragment or report about Onesicritus can be found in the corpus of his works. Based on Seneca’s references to the accounts of the earliest writers about Alexander’s expedition, it can be said that he read Callisthenes (BNJ 124)Footnote 11 and possibly also Aristobulus (BNJ 139).Footnote 12 Bearing this in mind, Seneca’s choice of Onesicritus’ work is exceptional and deserves further explanation.

It is possible to make a good argument for Seneca having read Onesicritus’ account on the basis of how the latter designates his own tasks. This served Onesicritus’ intention to elevate his otherwise only poorly known and thus probably minor position in Alexander’s empire. This is supported by the fact that a pattern emerges from the extant fragments which shows that Onesicritus exaggerated his value to the voyage on the Indian Ocean in 325 BC.Footnote 13 We do not know what rank he held in Alexander’s fleet, but in his account he definitely referred to himself as the captain of the naval mission.Footnote 14 It is possible that being the first of all those who followed Alexander to Asia to publish his account gave him the chance to present himself in a favourable light. On the other hand, there is ample reason for regarding Nearchus as the captain of this mission.Footnote 15 The latter also wrote an account of the voyage, published after Onesicritus’ work, in which he accused the latter of bending the facts.Footnote 16

In the light of Onesicritus’ self-representation, it is easy to imagine that he situated himself as a scout whom Alexander sent ahead to roam over the Ocean with the aim of downplaying the importance of his rival Nearchus.Footnote 17 Seneca’s definition of Onesicritus’ task can be used as an argument to view conquest as the original purpose of the navigation, which scholars view as an expedition of discovery.Footnote 18 However, whether the exploration of the Indian Ocean was really Alexander’s motive for sending out his fleet is open to question. That the aspect of conquest and not exploration of the unknown was dominant in Onesicritus’ work may be inferred from Pliny the Elder, who used it as a source for his description of the fauna of the supposedly mythical island of Taprobane (Sri Lanka) in the Naturalis historia.Footnote 19 Whether Onesicritus simply hinted at the existence of this island or claimed credit for its discovery cannot be answered with complete certainty. However, that statement corresponds with another reference to Onesicritus, in Solinus’ collection of miracles. There, Alexander is said to have sent Onesicritus on a naval mission to the mythical island.Footnote 20 The historicity of this mission should not be accepted without strong reservations. In this case, Onesicritus’ mission seems to be out of its original context, since Solinus’ interest is clearly focused on geographical investigation of the mythical island. However, this mission shares the same context as Alexander’s alleged encounter with the Amazons, which was also part of Onesicritus’ work.Footnote 21 Both episodes are set in mythical lands at the limits of the oikoumenē and thus seem originally to have been examples highlighting the enormous spatial dimensions of the Macedonian campaign.Footnote 22 This means that some of the earliest writers about Alexander’s expedition created a literary atmosphere in which the conqueror pushed his campaign so far that he reached the limits of the known world, where the land of myth was expected to be located.Footnote 23 Apparently their interpretations were intended to highlight the uniqueness of the Macedonian campaign. However, this endeavour was clearly undertaken in the military context of conquest. Seneca’s classification of Onesicritus’ task as that of a scout clearly shows that the latter presented himself as Alexander’s spearhead on the high seas, which highlights conquest as the prevailing aspect of the enterprise.

This assumption is supported by the fact that in our sources nothing suggests that Alexander sent his fleet out to explore part of the Indian Ocean that was no longer an unknown body of water in his time. From various types of evidence, we learn that the ‘Red Sea’ or ‘Erythraean Sea’ (that is, the modern western Indian Ocean and the Red Sea) was a frequently used seaway nearly 3,000 years before the Macedonians’ arrival.Footnote 24 Against this backdrop, it seems that Nearchus was simply in charge of guiding the fleet safely from the mouth of the Indus to Mesopotamia while Alexander led his army through the Gedrosian Desert.Footnote 25 This means that exploration was not the major motivation for the navigation through the ‘Red Sea’. What strengthens this view is that Alexander’s contemporaries probably knew that Darius I claimed to have been the first to discover (ὑπὸ Δαρϵίου ἐξϵυρέθη) the eastern parts of Asia, as Herodotus states (4.44).Footnote 26 Furthermore, there is ample evidence in Herodotus’ Histories and indigenous sources to suggest that the coastal regions of the Persian Gulf were part of the Achaemenid administrative system.Footnote 27 Moreover, Strabo 15.2.3 mentions that Alexander sent out pioneers in advance to Gedrosia and its coast to establish stations for the army and the fleet before he set out to cross the desert. Obviously, Onesicritus’ account of his function as scout was originally set within a military framework and loaded with a meaning other than merely opening up the sea. Therefore, the designation of the Ocean as unknown is not evidence for the geographical knowledge of Alexander’s time, but combined a real military task with the self-representation of Onesicritus.

But why did Seneca the Younger refer to the ‘Red Sea’ as the unknown Ocean? Seneca the Elder’s first Suasoria is a key to understanding Onesicritus as scout on the unknown sea. This work is about a controversy between scholars on the issue of whether Alexander would have been able to carry his conquest to lands lying in or even beyond the Ocean, which was thought to be the world’s utmost limit (Suas. 1.1). The outcome of the debate was that it was impossible to conquer the Ocean because it was assumed to be a body of water too vast and hence must remain, literally, ‘untroubled by the oar’ (inagitata remigio). Thus, it is not surprising that the collocutors agree that Alexander’s plan to conquer the Ocean and even the lands lying beyond it was never one of his actual military objectives and hence has to be explained by his insatiable lust for conquest. Against this backdrop, it becomes even more plausible that Seneca the Younger understood Onesicritus as someone who reached the edge of the world in the wake of Alexander’s campaign.

Evidence for this assumption is provided by the context of Seneca’s reference to Onesicritus in Ben. 7.2.5, whose subject is not exploration but conquest. This specific task finally qualifies this testimony as exceptional, since it is the only ancient statement in which we find an association between Onesicritus and conquest. It seems possible that this was a self-designation by Onesicritus, who as we have seen exaggerated his role in Alexander’s naval missions. In other words, Onesicritus claimed to be playing Nearchus’ part. This is suggested by a short note from Plutarch about the naval mission which Alexander ordered Nearchus to undertake in 324 BC. Its purpose for Plutarch was clearly the military conquest of the Ocean’s shore (Alex. 68.3). The wider context of this mission was Alexander’s plan for a circumnavigation of Arabia and Africa, which was to be achieved under Nearchus’ command (Plut. Alex. 68.1). That endeavour was charged with ideological meaning, because the Achaemenids were known to have failed to circumnavigate these continents (Hdt. 4.42–43).Footnote 28 Sailing on the Ocean that encircles the entire world and having reached its remotest corners bestowed connotations of universalism, a key ideological concept of rulers of the ancient Near Eastern and Hellenistic empires. These rulers, however, claimed theoretical and not actual supremacy over the entire world.Footnote 29 This required a particular mental geography whose limit was the boundless Ocean, thus creating the image of an imperium sine fine. According to this world-view, the Ocean itself, and any islands in it, is beyond the limit, so conquest up to the coast qualifies as universal.

Alexander’s claim to universalism is not only a feature of Seneca’s meditations, it is also well attested in our main sources from the Roman Imperial period. A revealing example is the elaborate argumentation of the Scythian delegation to Alexander, immediately before the Macedonians cross the Tanaïs (i.e. the Iaxartes) in Curtius Rufus’ account (7.8.18–19).Footnote 30 Curtius does not fail to explain to his readers that Alexander’s main trait was his desire to gain possession of every part of the world (7.8.20). The same is true for Arrian’s Anabasis. When judging Alexander’s drive for conquest against the backdrop of Stoic ideals, Arrian discusses his imperial ambitions.Footnote 31 Alexander’s dialogue with the Indian sophists is only the most famous example among many Macedonian imperial projects used as targets for Arrian’s moralization (Anab. 7.1.6).Footnote 32 Arrian finally breaks with his eulogistic portrait of Alexander in the last book of his Anabasis, in which his protagonist’s plans to achieve universalism become the main focus of the narrative.Footnote 33 The same applies to Plutarch and even to Seneca the Elder, both of whom cite Alexander’s will to reach the lands lying beyond the Ocean in order to exemplify his insatiable appetite for conquest (Plut. Mor. 207D; Sen. Suas. 1.1).Footnote 34 As we can see, the Imperial authors all present the same picture of Alexander, dominated by unceasing conquest, aiming to continue to campaign until there was nothing left to conquer.

Was universal conquest also a theme in Onesicritus’ account? Surveying the remaining fragments of his work, one has the impression that later authors used it mainly for quoting fiction rather than for matters concerning Alexander’s campaign.Footnote 35 The scanty evidence about his biographical and intellectual background does not assist us in reaching any conclusions on his literary activity. In this regard, Lucian’s remarks on Onesicritus offer a fresh interpretation. An argument for viewing Onesicritus as a flatterer who wrote an account to match what Alexander wanted to hear can be crafted from Lucian’s pejorative appraisal of the latter. According to Lucian, Onesicritus was one of the few participants who were known to have praised Alexander not only after his death but also during his lifetime.Footnote 36 Thus it seems at least conceivable to include him with those who flattered Alexander, or the circle of writers to whom Ptolemy, Aristobulus and Nearchus belonged, whose works all show the influence of court language.Footnote 37

If the assessment above is correct, certain surviving fragments may shed light on contemporary views of Alexander’s campaign, when considered in their specific contexts. The natural phenomena in some fragments are revealing examples of universalism as a prominent theme in Onesicritus’ work. Later authors were most interested in his observations about significant changes in flora and fauna that the soldiers had allegedly observed when they reached the Indus Valley. Two fragments can be regarded as praise for Alexander’s deeds in this context. In the first, Onesicritus claimed that Alexander had reached the springs of the Nile because his companions saw hippopotamuses in the Indus. As becomes clear from the other fragment, Onesicritus states that the Macedonians traversed the Tropic of Cancer, supporting this assertion with observations of significant changes in shadows and astronomical phenomena. Both statements are devoid of their precise and targeted meaning because the fragments are products of later writers’ selective interest and thus their original context has been lost. However, when considered in the context of contemporary geographical conceptions, the two fragments reveal Onesicritus’ original intention to glorify Alexander’s achievements. Reading the fragments against the backdrop of Herodotean geography is helpful. The same natural phenomena and fauna which Onesicritus places in India can also be found in Herodotus’ description of Ethiopia.Footnote 38 In the Histories, this land is the southernmost inhabited part of the oikoumenē, lying on the equator and at the end of the world (τὰ ἔσχατα γῆς, Hdt. 3.25.1). There is no doubt that the Histories must be counted among the most well-known pieces of classical and early Hellenistic period prose in the Greek-speaking world, and therefore can be expected to have had an impact on Alexander’s contemporaries’ geographical notions.Footnote 39 The context of statements about India’s natural phenomena originating from Onesicritus which later authors used as fiction seems to support the view of Lucian, who regarded him as having written an account for a specific purpose. Thus, it seems at least conceivable that Onesicritus’ account, in which he had the conqueror reach the bounds of the oikoumenē, was intended to meet the expectations of Alexander’s claim to universalism. Seen against this backdrop, it is possible to argue that Onesicritus’ flattering rhetoric derived from Alexander’s self-representation, which aimed to demonstrate that he had achieved universalism. As can be seen, a pattern which suggests that universalism was a theme in Onesicritus’ work is beginning to emerge from our analysis of the extant fragments of it. The second segment of the testimony enhances this impression.

III. Onesicritus on universalism

Universalism finds a nuanced expression in Seneca the Younger’s interpretation of Alexander’s character, which immediately follows the reference to Onesicritus (Ben. 7.2.6–3.1):

Non satis apparebat inopem esse, qui extra naturae terminos arma proferret, qui se in profundum inexploratum et immensum auiditate caeca prosus immitteret? Quid interest, quot eripuerit regna, quot dederit, quantum terrarum tributo premat? Tantum illi deest, quantum cupit. Nec hoc Alexandri tantum uitium fuit, quem per Liberi Herculisque uestigia felix temeritas egit, sed omnium, quos fortuna irritauit implendo. Cyrum et Cambysen et totum regni Persici stemma percense. Quem inuenies, cui modum imperii satietas fecerit, qui non uitam in aliqua ulterius procedendi cogitatione finierit? Nec id mirum est; quidquid cupiditati contingit, penitus hauritur et conditur, nec interest, quantum eo, quod inexplebile est, congeras.

Was it not quite clear that it was a man without resources who pushed his weapons beyond the bounds of Nature, who, driven on by blind greed, plunged headlong into an unexplored and boundless sea? What difference does it make how many kingdoms he has snatched, how many he has bestowed, how many lands he oppresses with tribute? He has need of as much as he still covets. Nor was this the vice of Alexander alone, whose successful audacity led him to follow in the footsteps of Liber and Hercules, but of all those whom Fortune has goaded on by rich gifts. Consider Cyrus and Cambyses and all the royal line of Persia. Will you find any among them for whom contentment imposed a limit upon their empire, who did not end his life in plan to advance farther? Nor need we wonder; anything that comes into contact with greed is drawn in deeply and stored away, and it does not make any difference how great a quantity you pile up in something that is unfillable.Footnote 40

Since Seneca referred to Onesicritus in the previous line, it can be suggested that what he read in his account had a considerable influence on his characterization of Alexander. The fact that Seneca puts focus on Onesicritus in this passage indicates his knowledge of his account and may be a hint to his reading. It is surprising that Seneca associates Alexander with the Persian Great Kings whose dissatisfaction with the limits of their empire was a trait he shared. This close association with the Persian rulers, to whom Seneca accords no special role in his works, is not without basis. The only examples of rulers whose lust for conquest was comparable to that of Alexander in De beneficiis can be found in the Histories of Herodotus, in which taking conquest to the limits of the world was a particular feature of the Teispids and Achaemenids. The most revealing instance of this comes from Xerxes I’s speech given in the so-called ’Crown Council’, which was considered part of the Ocean encircling the world in Achaemenid royal texts.Footnote 41 According to Herodotus 7.8γ1–2, the limits of heaven became Xerxes’ military objective when campaigning against Hellas.Footnote 42 Nothing in our sources indicates that the Great Kings gave up their claim to universalism after the Persian Wars. This can be seen from Aeschines, who states that Alexander’s military success ended the dissemination of the Achaemenids’ letters in which they claimed universalism (In Ctes. 132). Although Seneca was thinking about the Herodotean Great Kings when penning these lines, the association of universalism with the conquest of the Ocean deserves further examination.

Herodotus may generally explain the Achaemenid claim to universalism by reference to the Great Kings’ hubristic traits, but this theme is approached with subtlety in certain episodes of his work. This applies particularly to Darius I’s attitude towards the sea. The Achaemenid king is said to have sailed the Ocean twice in the context of staging his military success. He did so when he reached the Indian Ocean having accomplished his conquest of the Indus Valley, and in sailing the Pontus Euxinus before campaigning against the Scythians (Hdt. 4.44, 85–87). Robert Rollinger and Johannes Haubold have shown convincingly that these episodes should be viewed in the context of Achaemenid royal ideology.Footnote 43 This means that the Great Kings were acting out an ancient script, aiming to stage imperial success by showing their ability to do what their predecessors had failed to achieve. The connotation of these symbolic acts in respect of the sea cannot be understood without considering their original contexts.

The shared kernel of both Herodotean episodes is deeply rooted in the discourse on empire in the first millennium BC, in which large bodies of water such as the sea and the Ocean became essential reference points for highlighting imperial success. Good examples can be found in the Neo-Assyrian period. Each king claimed to have surpassed the achievements of his predecessor, which were measured in terms of reaching the ‘Upper and the Lower Sea’ (tâmti elīti adi tâmti šaplīti), locations that were heavy with meaning in the mental geography of royal propaganda.Footnote 44 Although reaching these points was regarded as fundamental for claiming universalism, later rulers gradually outperformed their predecessors’ claims by extending the imperial borders towards the sea. There is an abundance of ancient evidence for this.Footnote 45 A telling example comes from the texts of the Neo-Assyrian king Ashurbanipal, who drew on this discourse by expanding his claim to include power over the islands in the Upper and Lower Seas and even those in the ‘Midst of the Sea’ (qabal tâmti).Footnote 46 This claim, which included even the remotest places, could not be surpassed. The much later Cyrus Cylinder likewise asserts that the Upper and Lower Seas are the limits of the Teispid Empire.Footnote 47 Nevertheless, Cyrus’ son and successor, Cambyses II, seems to have extended this claim. According to a statement in Herodotus’ Histories (3.34.4), the Persians praised Cambyses as their most successful ruler because he had added Egypt and the neighbouring sea to the realm he had inherited from his father.Footnote 48 It does not matter whether historical credence is given to this episode. It reveals that the Great Kings engaged in this discursive dialogue with their ancient Near Eastern predecessors.

The prevailing claim to universalism could only be extended if a new mental map were used as its framework. Darius I did this in the Babylonian version of his Apadāna-inscriptions in Persepolis (DPg), when he proudly proclaimed that he ruled over lands located beyond the Ocean:

d ú-ru-ma-az-˹da˺ ra-bi šá ra-bu-ú ina muḫ-ḫi DINGIR.MEŠ gab-bi šá AN-e u KI-tì ib-nu-ú u A.MEŠ ib-nu-ú šá dum-qí gab-bi id-din-nu-ma ÙG.MEŠ ina lìb-bi bal-ṭu-ʾ šá a-n[a] m da-a-ri-ia̭-muš LUGAL ib-nu-ú u ˹a-na˺ m da-a-ri-ia̭muš˺ LUGAL LUGAL-ú-tu id-din-nu ina qaq-qar a-ga-a rap-šá-atu 4˺ šá KUR.KUR.MEŠ ma-de-e-tu 4 ina lìb-bi-šú KUR par-su KUR ma-da-a-a u KUR.KUR.MEŠ šá-né-ti-ma li-šá-nu šá-né-tu 4 šá KUR.MEŠ u ma-a-tu 4 šá a-ḫa-na-a-a a-ga-a šá ÍD.mar-ra-tu 4 u a-ḫu-ul-lu-a-a ul-li-i šá ÍD.mar-ra-tu 4 šá a-ḫa-na-a-a a-ga-a šá qaq-qar sụ-ma-ma-i-tu 4 u a-ḫu-ul-lu-a-a ˹ul-li-i˺ šá qaq-qar sụ-ma-ma-i-tu 4.

Ahuramazdā (is) great, who (is) great over all gods, who created the heaven and the earth and created water. Who gave all prosperity and people to live on, who made Darius the king, and to Darius the king (he) gave the kingship in this wide earth of many lands, among (them) Parsa, Media and other lands of other tongues, of mountains and plains, of this near side of the sea and that far side of the sea, of this near side of the waterless desert and that far side of the waterless desert.Footnote 49

The reference points for Darius’ imperial extension are the lands beyond the marratu, the ‘Bitter Sea’ which according to the Mesopotamian mental map, encircled the inhabited world.Footnote 50 However, this claim does not indicate either factual conquest or hegemony, but the ability to seize even the world’s remotest places.Footnote 51 By claiming to rule over these remote lands, Darius not only surpassed all his predecessors’ claims to power but also measured his achievements alongside the deeds of gods and heroes. According to Mesopotamian mythology, the crossing of the marratu is an achievement attributed only to the sun-god Shamash and the great hero Gilgamesh.Footnote 52 This exaggerated claim to universalism finally became merely a formula in the ‘lists of lands’ (OP dahyāva) of Darius’ successors, in which no further advancement of this idea can be seen during the Achaemenid period.Footnote 53 Interestingly, the oldest testimony for this claim is paragraph 74 of the famous Bisitun rock inscription in its Old Persian version. This text was produced at a time when the usurper Darius sought to establish his rule on firm ground, which may explain the superlative claim.Footnote 54 However, the fact that DPg is only preserved in an Akkadian version becomes important for the examination of Darius’ intentions. It can be said that this text is a good example of an intensive discourse between Darius and his ancient Near Eastern predecessors and their conception of universal rule.

Seen against this backdrop, one wonders whether Alexander was not also seeking his place in this discourse on empire. There is evidence suggesting that his contemporaries knew of the particular geographical conception which established the framework for Achaemenid royal ideology. Donald Murray has highlighted its impact on Herodotus’ idea of the waters at the world’s limits.Footnote 55 However, the best example of its reception comes from Xenophon’s Cyropaedia (8.6.21), in which the encircling Ocean and the deserts form the limits of the Achaemenid Empire.Footnote 56 The same geographical conception is also the background to Alexander’s argumentation in his speech delivered at the river Hyphasis, according to Arrian (Anab. 5.25.3–26.7).Footnote 57 Here, Alexander characterizes the Caspian Sea as a bay of the Ocean, with the aim of creating the illusion that the Macedonians had already seen its shore in the north. Seemingly, Arrian had recourse to a source that does not appear to be the most recent geographical model of the time. The earliest writers about Alexander intentionally presented the Caspian Sea was an open body of water, which helped to create the impression that Alexander really had reached the Ocean in the north.Footnote 58 However, although the authenticity of this statement in the Anabasis is open to debate, Alexander’s drive to campaign beyond the Achaemenid Empire’s boundaries is a theme common to other accounts.Footnote 59 According to certain fragments of Aristobulus, the participants in Alexander’s expedition employed onomastic deceits to change Asia’s geography with the purpose of elevating the conqueror’s military achievements by creating the idea that he had pushed beyond the limits of Asia. Strabo views this as the flatterers’ attempt to satisfy Alexander’s lust for glory (φιλοτιμία).Footnote 60 Telling examples of this are the re-designations of the Parapamisus as the Caucasus and the river Iaxartes as the Tanaïs. The targeted meaning of these statements is that those natural barriers were considered to be the limits of the Great King’s realm.Footnote 61 Changing the names of the geographical reference points which Alexander passed through on his campaign to those marking the limits of the Achaemenid Empire may have served a particular purpose. It seems that Alexander wished to hear that the Achaemenids’ proud achievements were a thing of the past, since he had campaigned beyond the limits of their empire. This may have found an echo in Arrian’s meditations on Alexander’s achievements, which are dominated by the theme of adding new lands to what had previously belonged to the Persians and the Medes (Anab. 5.25.5, 7.10.5). Given Alexander’s ambition, it is not surprising that the Macedonians found evidence of Dionysus’ distant wanderings to the East in places which also mark the limits of the Persian realm.Footnote 62

Whilst some of the earliest writers explained Alexander’s transcendence of the borders of the Achaemenid Empire by reference to his quest for mythical figures, they also showed interest in disguising his failures in order to achieve this objective.Footnote 63 From the extant fragments we can grasp Ptolemy’s explanation for the Macedonian campaign halting at the Hyphasis. He stated that inauspicious omens made it impossible to cross the river which was known to be the easternmost border of the Achaemenid Empire.Footnote 64 The common patterns among some of the first accounts create the image of Alexander as successful in pushing beyond the borders of the Persian Empire and hence outperforming the deeds of the Achaemenids. This might be because the authors of the first accounts of the expedition were recipients of Alexander’s self-representations, which were put into circulation by his entourage. We know that Ptolemy, Aristobulus and Nearchus belonged to Alexander’s inner circle, which may explain why they wrote about Macedonian imperial ambitions. Elements of Alexander’s self-representation thus found their way into accounts that were published a considerable time after Onesicritus’ work, and it appears that all the earliest writers regarded the theme of universalism to be an essential part of their portraits of Alexander.Footnote 65

Considering this discourse as the context of Seneca’s mention of Onesicritus, it is not surprising that the philosopher mentions Alexander alongside the Great Kings, all rulers who attempted to achieve world conquest. In this regard, the special connotation of the Ocean suggests that the Achaemenid idea of it as a point of reference for claiming imperial success was the background of Onesicritus’ episode. Finally, the best example of Alexander’s response to the discourse on empire regarding the Ocean is the context of the testimony of Onesicritus under discussion. After Alexander had led his troops from the Hyphasis to the mouth of the Indus, he performed an act of great symbolic significance in the Indian Ocean; he acted out the ancient script by sailing out onto the Ocean and performing sacrifices on the high seas much as Darius I had done at the end of his Indian campaign, or the Assyrian kings had done at the Upper and Lower Seas (Hdt. 4.44).Footnote 66 The aim of Alexander’s ceremony was to claim conquest of the Ocean, and thus it can be seen as a response to the Near Eastern discourse on empire. Two statements from the so-called ‘Vulgate’ tradition also support this view. According to Justin’s epitome of Pompeius Trogus, Alexander marked the shore of the Indian Ocean as the furthest border of his empire (positis imperii terminis, 12.10.5).Footnote 67 Plutarch, who drew on the same tradition, emphasized another detail, stating that Alexander prayed to the gods that no one would ever cross the limits of his campaign (αὐτὸν ἀνθρώπων ὑπϵρβῆναι τοὺς ὅρους τῆς στρατϵίας ἀνέστρϵφϵ, Alex. 66.1). Contextualizing this information against the backdrop of the discourse on empire allows one to draw the conclusion that in marking the Ocean as the most far-flung point of his empire, Alexander aspired to surpass the deeds of the Great Kings.

There is additional evidence to suggest that Alexander took his competition with the Achaemenids further, aspiring to rule even over the boundless Ocean. The idea of extending his conquest into the Ocean finds expression in a speech by Dio Chrysostom (Or. 4.49). Here, the emphasis is on Alexander’s dissatisfaction with what he has achieved after completing his conquest of the Achaemenid Empire:

οὐδὲ γὰρ ζῆν ἐβούλϵτο, ϵἰ μὴ βασιλϵὺς ϵἴη τῆς Eὐρώπης καὶ τῆς Ἀσίας καὶ τῆς Λιβύης καὶ ϵἴ πού τίς ἐστι νῆσος ἐν τῷ Ὠκϵανῷ κϵιμένη.

For he did not care to live at all unless he might be king of Europe, Asia, Libya, and of any island which might lie in the Ocean.Footnote 68

The phrase ‘island which might lie in the Ocean’ suggests the existence of accounts in which Alexander’s plans for conquest were not limited by the Ocean’s shore, influenced by the ancient Near Eastern semantics.Footnote 69 Thus it appears that the ideological background to Dio Chrysostom’s statement was Alexander’s response to the discourse on empire. An extension of this idea can be found in Seneca the Elder and Plutarch, where the endless Ocean itself became the objective of Alexander’s campaign (Plut. Mor. 207D; Sen. Suas. 1.1). Onesicritus’ mission to roam over the boundless Ocean and conquer new lands in it described in De beneficiis can be seen to be in accordance with this. Seneca’s idea of Alexander standing at the shore of the Indian Ocean and longing for even more lands to conquer than those he already possessed is based on Alexander’s claim to universalism. In this way, Alexander responded to the ancient Near Eastern discourse on empire by aspiring to conquer lands whose existence was unknown, in the boundless Ocean.

Although there is much to indicate that Alexander deliberately responded to the ancient Near Eastern discourse on empire, nothing in our sources suggests that he ever saw himself as ‘the last Achaemenid’.Footnote 70 Instead it seems that he and members of his entourage presented an image in which it was essential to surpass his ancient Near Eastern predecessors. This may have served the purpose of creating an atmosphere in which his Asian subjects, who were accustomed to Achaemenid rule, could regard the Macedonian conqueror as their new, legitimate ruler.Footnote 71 Alexander acted in the way expected of a legitimate ancient Near Eastern ruler, staging himself as superior to his predecessors. There is much to be said for the idea that Onesicritus played an important role in this cultural dialogue. One of the extant fragments reveals that he provided a translation of Darius’ tomb inscription which reproduces part of the original text quite closely.Footnote 72 This suggests that an intensive encounter occurred between Alexander’s entourage and Achaemenid ideology, in which Onesicritus was somehow involved. In the light of the evidence presented here, the Achaemenid imperial model was not foreign to the earliest writers about Alexander.

Finally, we may return to the question of Seneca’s choice of Onesicritus as his source for Alexander’s lust for conquest. Onesicritus’ self-designation as scout and conqueror needs to be seen in the context of Alexander seeking his place in the prevailing discourse on empire in his time. He did so with his claim to universalism, which even included as yet unknown lands beyond the Ocean, for which the meditations of Imperial philosophers are a telling source. Obviously, this was less a theoretical claim than an actual aim of his campaign. Alexander’s aspiration, perceived by later authors as an insatiable lust for conquest, seems to have been an important theme in Onesicritus’ work. And that qualifies the testimony as a high-value source regarding Alexander’s dialogue with the Achaemenid imperial model. Therefore, it seems that Onesicritus’ self-designation as a scout and conqueror of the Ocean is linked to Alexander’s ideological claim. The latter constituted the literary background of his work, and was also the context of the author’s elevation of his role during the campaign. So there is no room for doubt that Onesicritus made the last campaign of Alexander a topic in his writing and used its ideological frame to bring his own function into line with the purposes of his ruler’s claim to power. This means that he presented himself as a scout roaming the Ocean and thus acted out Alexander’s claim to universalism. This proud statement may have been the reason why Seneca chose Onesicritus as his source in exemplifying the Macedonian conqueror’s imperial ambitions. Ultimately, the contextualization of this overlooked testimony regarding Onesicritus suggests that the presentation of Alexander in his account was very close to what Seneca called ‘something that is unfillable’.

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the anonymous reviewers for their helpful suggestions. Of course, all the remaining errors are mine.

Footnotes

1 The literature on Alexander which also deals with Onesicritus is too rich to be reviewed here. Studies of the last 20 years focused on Onesicritus are Mariotta (Reference Mariotta2017) (extension of Onesicritus’ explorations of the Indian Ocean); Winiarczyk (Reference Winiarczyk2011) 73–115 and (Reference Winiarczyk2007) (literary genre); Müller (Reference Müller2014) and (Reference Müller2011) (literary aims); Zambrini (Reference Zambrini2007) (general discussion of the first accounts). See the chapter on Alexander in India by Stoneman (Reference Stoneman2019) 36–79. In comparison, the other earliest writers about Alexander’s expedition received more attention. A recent overview is provided by the bibliographical essays of Marín (Reference Marín2018).

2 Whitby (Reference Whitby2011).

3 For a critical approach to definitions of ‘fragments’ and ‘testimonia’ as established by German scholars of the 19th century, see Dionisotti (Reference Dionisotti1997); Schepens (Reference Schepens1997).

4 Bichler (Reference Bichler2018) 69: ‘We do not know what Seneca in his mention of Onesicritus specifically referred to. But the taken-for-grantedness with which the latter’s name crossed his mind in this context could give us food for thought’. See also Griffin (Reference Griffin2013) 323.

5 Watt (Reference Watt1994) 230 has argued that the segments are joined together.

6 For an overview see Celotta (Reference Celotta2018) 327.

7 See Setaioli (Reference Setaioli2013) 243.

8 Text and tr. Basore (Reference Basore1935), with slight modifications. Basore translated cum in oceano Onesicritus praemissus explorator erraret et bella in ignoto mari quaereret imprecisely as ‘while Onesicritus, who had been ahead to discover new ones, was wandering about the ocean and stirring up war on unknown seas’. His translation is based on the presupposition that Alexander discovered unknown seas and hence he ignores the meaning of praemissus explorator as ‘scout’ and mari as the locative singular of mare. On ‘scout’ as a translation of explorator in a military context see Oxford Latin Dictionary, s.v. explorator. Briant (Reference Briant2013) has shown that it is possible to argue for viewing the modern interpretation of the voyages undertaken during the reign of Alexander as expeditions of discovery as a scholarly myth that goes back to scholars of the 17th century. Furthermore, Basore was unaware that the ‘Red Sea’ or Erythraean Sea, mare rubrum, i.e. ἐρυθρὰ θάλαττα, was part of the Ocean encircling the sea in ancient Greek thought. On this issue, see Berger (Reference Berger1907) 592. Accordingly, the ‘Red Sea’ mentioned by Seneca corresponds to the western Indian Ocean and modern Red Sea.

9 For Strabo’s assessment, see BNJ 134 T10. Cf. Pearson (Reference Pearson1960) 85–90.

10 Glorification of Alexander: Müller (Reference Müller2011) 47–56; Zambrini (Reference Zambrini2007) 212–14. No philosophical aims: Winiarczyk (Reference Winiarczyk2007).

11 BNJ 124 F19, F20, F21. For his father’s knowledge of Callisthenes’ work, see T13.

12 BNJ 139 F47 with parallels to Sen. Ep. 59.12 and Curt. 8.10.20.

13 Whitby (Reference Whitby2011) ad BNJ 134 T4, T5a, T5b, T6, F27. Bichler (Reference Bichler2018) 67–68; Zambrini (Reference Zambrini2007) contra Badian (Reference Badian1975) 158–60. All evidence available is collected in Berve (Reference Berve1926) nos 272, 290; Heckel (Reference Heckel2006) 184.

14 BNJ 134 F27. On Onesicritus’ role as royal helmsman, see Müller (Reference Müller2011) 53–55; Hauben (Reference Hauben1987).

15 BNJ 133 T1; BNJ 134 T5b; BNJ 713 F2.

16 Degen (Reference Degen2022b) 522–25. See the controversy between Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1987) and Badian (Reference Badian1975) (Nearchus staged himself); Hauben (Reference Hauben1987) (Onesicritus obtained a high rank in Alexander’s fleet). Cf. Pédech (Reference Pédech1984) 74.

17 According to BNJ 133 F1 IX, Nearchus regarded his mission as the exploration of the coast of the Persian Gulf.

18 For instance, see Gehrke (Reference Gehrke2016) 90; Bucciantini (Reference Bucciantini2015). Marín (Reference Marín2017) 295 has argued that it was Eratosthenes’ decision to make of Alexander a geographer.

19 BNJ 134 F13.

20 Solin. 53.1–2. This passage is not part of BNJ’s collection. On the possibility that Onesicritus did indeed reach Sri Lanka, see Mariotta (Reference Mariotta2017). Nevertheless, the fact that Solinus refers to Onesicritus as praefectus classis Macedonicae therein should raise doubts about the historicity of this naval mission.

21 BNJ 134 F1. See on this Baynham (Reference Baynham2001) 116, speculating on Onesicritus’ invention of this tale.

22 Hdt. 4.110 (Amazons); ps.-Arist. [Mund.] 393b 15 (Taprobane).

23 Bichler (Reference Bichler2018); Whitby (Reference Whitby2011) ad loc.; Baynham (Reference Baynham2001) 116; Pearson (Reference Pearson1960) 93.

24 Gupta (Reference Gupta2018). See also Berger (Reference Berger1907).

25 Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1996) 169–76; (Reference Bosworth1988a) 143–46; (Reference Bosworth1987).

26 Perhaps the participants in Alexander’s expedition were also aware of Skylax of Karyanda’s account of his voyage on the ‘Red Sea’ (FGrH 1000; BNJ 2 709).

27 Potts (Reference Potts2019).

28 Bosworth (Reference Bosworth2007) 450.

29 Bichler and Rollinger (Reference Bichler and Rollinger2017) (overview); Meeus (Reference Meeus2014) (Hellenistic rulers); Strootman (Reference Strootman2014) (Diadochi).

30 See Ballesteros-Pastor (Reference Ballesteros-Pastor2011) and Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1988a) 110–12 for arguments to identify the Tanaïs with the Iaxartes, the modern Syr-Darya.

31 Whether the doctrine of Arrian’s former teacher Epictetus had an influence on his Anabasis is still a matter of debate. See Brunt (Reference Brunt1977) 19–48 (considerable influence) contra Stadter (Reference Stadter1980) 201 (no influence).

32 Stoneman (Reference Stoneman1995); in general, Burliga (Reference Burliga2013) 88.

33 Baron (Reference Baron2018); Liotsakis (Reference Liotsakis2019) 77; Burliga (Reference Burliga2013) 109; Bosworth (Reference Bosworth2007) 453.

34 See Asirvatham (Reference Asirvatham2018) 368-73.

35 Baynham (Reference Baynham2001) 118–20.

36 BNJ 134 T7. The fact that Onesicritus belonged to Alexander’s inner circle, as suggested by Berve (Reference Berve1926) no. 583; Müller (Reference Müller2011); Heckel (Reference Heckel2006) 184, could explain his praise for Alexander.

37 See Degen (Reference Degen2022c); Whitby (Reference Whitby2011) ad BNJ 134 T7 τῆς τῶν κολακϵυόντων μϵρίδος ϵἰκότως ἂν νομισθϵίη. On flatterers in Alexander’s entourage, see Curt. 8.5.7; Cic. Arch. 24; Strabo 11.5.5. See the interpretation of Winiarczyk (Reference Winiarczyk2011) 73–115. Winiarczyk (Reference Winiarczyk2007) has presented arguments for viewing the aim of Onesicritus’ work as glorifying Alexander. However, Baynham (Reference Baynham2021) has sounded a note of caution when calling the first accounts of Alexander ‘propaganda’.

38 BNJ 134 F7 (hippopotamuses in India); BNJ 134 F9, F10 (Tropic of Cancer). See also Whitby (Reference Whitby2011) ad BNJ F9 and F10. For arguments that natural phenomena in Onesicritus served the purpose of highlighting Alexander’s claim to universalism, see Bichler (Reference Bichler2018) 63–64, 66; Müller (Reference Müller2011) 54, 64; Pearson (Reference Pearson1960) 13, 15; contra Geus (Reference Geus2019) (no propagandistic intention).

39 Matijašić (Reference Matijašić2019); Taietti (Reference Taietti2016).

40 Tr. Basore (Reference Basore1935), with slight modifications. I am deeply grateful to the reviewers for their thoughtful improvements to the translation.

41 Degen (Reference Degen2019a); Haubold (Reference Haubold2012).

42 See the discussion in Schwab (Reference Schwab2017). On ancient Near Eastern elements in the Histories, see Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2018).

43 Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2014a); Haubold (Reference Haubold2012).

44 Haubold (Reference Haubold2013) 98–107; Stevens (Reference Stevens2014); Parker (Reference Parker2011); Lang and Rollinger (Reference Lang and Rollinger2010).

45 Chicago Assyrian Dictionary 18 s.v. tâmtu. See also Yamada (Reference Yamada2005).

46 Lang and Rollinger (Reference Lang and Rollinger2010).

47 Cyrus Cylinder ll. 28’–30’ according to Schaudig (Reference Schaudig2018) 23–24.

48 Haubold (Reference Haubold2012) 7.

49 DPg (Akk.) ll. 1’–12’. Edition and tr. Delshad (Reference Delshad2019) 3–4, with slight modifications.

50 Haubold (Reference Haubold2013) 102–07; Horowitz (Reference Horowitz1998) 20–25; Herrenschmidt (Reference Herrenschmidt1976).

51 Haubold (Reference Haubold2012); Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2014b); Rollinger and Degen (Reference Rollinger and Degen2021a).

52 George (Reference George2003) 682–83, Standard Babylonian epic, tablet x, ll. 72’–84’.

53 Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2016); Schmitt (Reference Schmitt2014) s.v. paradraya.

54 Rollinger and Degen (Reference Rollinger and Degen2021a) 203–13.

55 Murray (Reference Murray2016).

56 See further Degen (Reference Degen2020); (Reference Degen2019b); Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1995) 348.

57 See the association of reaching the Ocean with conquest in Curt. 9.9.4.

58 Hdt. 1.202.4, 203, 3.115; BNJ 1 F18a, F302c; Arist. Mete. 1.13.350a, 2.1.354a; BNJ 128 F7. Concerning the first century, see BNJ 188 F3. Cf. Plut. Alex. 44. For interpretation, see Hamilton (Reference Hamilton1969) 116–24, contrasting with Pearson (Reference Pearson1960) 71, who argues for a propaganda perspective.

59 Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1995) 348; (Reference Bosworth1988b) 130–32; Wüst (Reference Wüst1953) contra Hammond (Reference Hammond1999); Nagle (Reference Nagle1996).

60 BNJ 139 F23. Cf. Arr. Anab. 5.3.1–4; BNJ 139 F19.

61 See Degen (Reference Degen2022c) 32–44. Tanaïs: Strabo 11.11.4; Caucasus: Hdt. 3.97.4.

62 Degen (Reference Degen2021); Bowden (Reference Bowden2014) 84, 89–91.

63 Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2015); Howe and Müller (Reference Howe and Müller2012). For a case study of Alexander adapting to diverse audiences when presenting himself before a multicultural crowd, see Spawforth (Reference Spawforth2012).

64 Hdt. 4.44; Bowden (Reference Bowden2014) 84; Nawotka (Reference Nawotka2010) 296; Howe and Müller (Reference Howe and Müller2012).

65 Squillace (Reference Squillace2018); Rosen (Reference Rosen1979). For the proximity of these writers to Alexander, see, on Ptolemy, Howe (Reference Howe2018); Worthington (Reference Worthington2016) 7–69; Heckel (Reference Heckel1992) 230–39; on Aristobulus, Arr. Anab. 4.14.3; Berve (Reference Berve1926) no. 121; on Nearchus, Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1987); Badian (Reference Badian1975); Berve (Reference Berve1926) no. 544.

66 On this issue, see Rollinger and Degen (Reference Rollinger and Degen2021b); Rollinger (Reference Rollinger2014a) 96–98.

67 See Bichler and Rollinger (Reference Bichler and Rollinger2017) 16–17.

68 Tr. Cohoon (Reference Cohoon1932), with slight modifications.

69 See, for instance, Diodorus referring to Alexander’s plan for circumnavigation of the continents as παραπλϵῦσαι δι᾽ Ὠκϵανοῦ (17.104.3).

70 Briant (Reference Briant2002) 856; (Reference Briant2017) 26–29 contra Lane Fox (Reference Lane Fox2007); Wiemer (Reference Wiemer2007).

71 For a comprehensive discussion of Alexander’s dialogue with Achaemenid ideology, see Degen (Reference Degen2022a) 302–408. See also Bosworth (Reference Bosworth1980); Degen (Reference Degen2022b); (Reference Degen2019a); Olbrycht (Reference Olbrycht2015); Trampedach and Meeus (Reference Trampedach and Meeus2020).

72 BNJ 134 F35. See discussion between Degen (Reference Degen2019a) 76; Seibert (Reference Seibert2004); Schmitt (Reference Schmitt1988) contra Herzfeld (Reference Herzfeld1968) 13 (authentic). For parallels see the Old Persian text of Darius’ Bisitun-inscription (DB (OP)) §70; Hdt. 1.136; SEG XXVIII 1245, ll. 14’–15’.

References

Asirvatham, S. (2018) ‘Plutarch’s Alexander’, in K. Moore (ed.), Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great (Brill’s Companions to Classical Reception 14) (Leiden and Boston) 355–76CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Badian, E. (1975) ‘Nearchus the Cretan’, YClS 24, 147–70Google Scholar
Ballesteros-Pastor, L. (2011) ‘Beyond the Tanais: Tacitus and Quintus Curtius’, Ancient West and East 10, 4347 Google Scholar
Baron, C. (2018) ‘The Great King and his limits: allusions to Herodotus in book 7 of Arrian’s Anabasis’, in O. Devillers and B.B. Sebastiani (eds), Sources et modèles des historiens anciens (Scripta Antiqua 109) (Ausonius) 259–68Google Scholar
Basore, J.W. (tr.) (1935) Seneca: Moral Essays, Volume III: De beneficiis (Loeb Classical Library 310) (Cambridge MA).Google Scholar
Baynham, E. (2001) ‘Alexander and the Amazons’, CQ 51, 115–26CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Baynham, E. (2021) ‘“Selling Alexander”: the concept and use of “propaganda” in the age of Alexander’, in J. Walsh and E. Baynham (eds), Alexander the Great and Propaganda (Abingdon and New York) 1–13Google Scholar
Berger, H. (1907) ‘Ἐρυθρὰ θάλαττα’, RE 11, cols 592–601Google Scholar
Berve, H. (1926) Das Alexanderreich auf prosopographischer Grundlage: Zweiter Band Prosoprographie (Munich)Google Scholar
Bichler, R. (2018) ‘On the traces of Onesicritus: some historiographical aspects of Alexander’s Indian campaign’, in K. Nawotka, R. Rollinger, J. Wiesehöfer and A. Wojciechowska (eds), The Historiography of Alexander the Great (Classica et Orientalia 20) (Wiesbaden) 51–69Google Scholar
Bichler, R. and Rollinger, R. (2017) ‘Universale Weltherrschaft und die Monumente an ihren Grenzen’, in R. Rollinger (ed.), Die Sicht auf die Welt zwischen Ost und West (750 v. Chr.550 n. Chr.) – Looking at the World, from the East and the West (750 BCE550 CE), Part A (Classica et Orientalia 12) (Wiesbaden) 1–30Google Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1980) ‘Alexander and the Iranians’, JHS 100, 121 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1987) ‘Nearchus in Susiana’, in W. Will (ed.), Zu Alexander dem Großen: FS Gerhard Wirth (Amsterdam) 541–67Google Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1988a) Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great (Cambridge)Google Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1988b) From Arrian to Alexander: Studies in Historical Interpretation (Oxford)Google Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1995) A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander, Vol. II: Books IV–V (Oxford)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (1996) Alexander and the East: The Tragedy of Triumph (Oxford)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Bosworth, A.B. (2007) ‘Arrian, Alexander, and the pursuit of glory’, in J. Marincola (ed.), A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography (Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World) (Malden and Oxford) 447–53CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Bowden, H. (2014) Alexander the Great: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Briant, P. (2002) From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire (Winona Lake IN)Google Scholar
Briant, P. (2013) ‘La figure de Néarque dans l’historiographie européenne’, in D. Marcotte (ed.), D’Arrien à William Vincent. Le périple de Néarque et sa postérité (Geographia Antiqua 22) (Florence) 15–20Google Scholar
Briant, P. (2017) ‘Foreword’, in P. Briant (ed.), Kings, Countries, Peoples: Selected Studies on the Achaemenid Empire (tr. Amélie Kuhrt) (Oriens et Occidens 26) (Stuttgart) 1–29Google Scholar
Brunt, P.A. (1977) ‘From Epictetus to Arrian’, Athenaeum 55, 1948 Google Scholar
Bucciantini, V. (2015) ‘Geographical description and historical narrative in the tradition on Alexander’s expedition’, in S. Bianchetti, M. Cataudella and H.-J. Gehrke (eds), Brill’s Companion to Ancient Geography: The Inhabited World in Greek and Roman Tradition (Brill’s Companions to Classical Studies) (Leiden) 98–109Google Scholar
Burliga, B. (2013) Arrian’s Anabasis: An Intellectual and Cultural Story (Gdánsk)Google Scholar
Celotta, G. (2018) ‘Alexander the Great in Seneca’s works and Lucan’s Bellum civile’, in K. Moore (ed.), Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Alexander the Great (Brill’s Companions to Classical Reception 14) (Leiden and Boston) 325–54CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Cohoon, J.W. (ed. and tr.) (1932) Dio Chrysostom: Discourses 111 (Loeb Classical Library 257) (Cambridge MA)Google Scholar
Degen, J. (2019a) ‘Alexander III., Dareios I. und das speererworbene Land’, Journal of Ancient Near Eastern History 6.1, 5395 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Degen, J. (2019b) ‘Xenophon and the light from heaven’, AHB 33, 81107 Google Scholar
Degen, J. (2020) ‘Ancient near eastern traditions in Xenophon’s Cyropaedia: conceptions of royal qualities and empire’, in B. Jacobs (ed.), Ancient Information on Persia Re-assessed: Xenophon’s Cyropaedia (Classica et Orientalia 22) (Wiesbaden) 197–240CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Degen, J. (2021) ‘Alexander III, the Achaemenids and the quest for Dionysos: framing and claiming universal rulership in the Macedonian world empire’, in T. Daryaee and R. Rollinger (eds), Iran and Its Histories: From the Beginnings through the Achaemenid Empire (Classica et Orientalia 29) (Wiesbaden) 239–87Google Scholar
Degen, J. (2022a) Alexander III. zwischen Ost und West. Indigene Traditionen und Herrschaftsinszenierung im makedonischen Weltimperium (Oriens et Occidens 39) (Stuttgart)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Degen, J. (2022b) ‘Alexander und die κήτϵα des Okeanos’, Klio 104, 517–49CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Degen, J. (2022c) ‘Source and criticism: traces of Alexander’s “official language” in the Anabasis’, in R. Rollinger and J. Degen (eds), The World of Alexander in Perspective Contextualizing Arrian (Classica et Orientalia 30) (Wiesbaden 2022) 25–72CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Delshad, S. (2019) ‘DPg: Ahuramazdā and the creation of water, with a new text edition’, Iranian Studies 52, 575–88CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Dionisotti, A.C. (1997) ‘On fragments in classical scholarship’, in G.W. Most (ed.), Collecting Fragments – Fragmente sammeln (Aporemata 1) (Göttingen) 1–33Google Scholar
Gehrke, H.-J. (2016) ‘The “revolution” of Alexander the Great: old and new in the world’s view’, in S. Bianchetti, M.R. Cataudella and H.-J. Gehrke (eds), Brill’s Companion to Ancient Geography (Brill’s Companions to Classical Studies) (Leiden) 78–97CrossRefGoogle Scholar
George, A.R. (2003) The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition, and Cuneiform Texts (Oxford)Google Scholar
Geus, K. (2019) ‘Krokodile, Elefanten, Wale und Bohnen: über Kontingenz und Valenz von zoologischen und botanischen Argumenten in den geographischen Konzeptionen der Antike’, in R. Lafer, H. Dolenz and M. Luik (eds), Antiquitates variae: Festschrift für Karl Strobel zum 65. Geburtstag (Internationale Archäologie – Studia honoraria 39) (Rahden) 81–96Google Scholar
Griffin, M.T. (2013) Seneca on Society: A Guide to De beneficiis (Oxford)Google Scholar
Gupta, S. (2018) ‘The archaeological record of Indian Ocean engagements: Bay of Bengal (5000 BC–500 AD)’, in Oxford Handbooks Online doi: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199935413.013.46 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Hamilton, J.R. (1969) Plutarch: Alexander, A Commentary (London)Google Scholar
Hammond, N.G.L. (1999) ‘The speeches in Arrian’s Indica and Anabasis’, CQ 49, 238–53CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Hauben, H. (1987) ‘Onesicritus and the Hellenistic “Archikybernesis”’, in W. Will (ed.), Zu Alexander dem Großen: FS Gerhard Wirth (Amsterdam) 569–93Google Scholar
Haubold, J. (2012) ‘The Achaemenid Empire and the sea’, MHR 27, 423 Google Scholar
Haubold, J. (2013) Greece and Mesopotamia: Dialogues in Literature (Cambridge)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Heckel, W. (1992) The Marshals of Alexander’s Empire: A Study of the Macedonian Aristocracy and the Politics of Military Leadership (London and New York)Google Scholar
Heckel, W. (2006) Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander the Great: Prosopography of Alexander’s Empire (Malden and Oxford)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Herrenschmidt, C. (1976) ‘Désignation de l’empire et concepts politiques de Darius Ier d’après ses inscriptions en vieux perse’, Studia Iranica 6, 1758 Google Scholar
Herzfeld, E. (1968) The Persian Empire: Studies in Geography and Ethnography of the Ancient Near East (Wiesbaden)Google Scholar
Horowitz, W. (1998) Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography (Mesopotamian Civilizations 8) (Winona Lake IN)Google Scholar
Howe, T. (2018) ‘Ptolemy (138)’, in I. Worthington (ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby Online http://doi.org/10.1163/1873-5363_bnj_a138 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Howe, T. and Müller, S. (2012) ‘Mission accomplished: Alexander at the Hyphasis’, AHB 26, 2442 Google Scholar
Lane Fox, R. (2007) ‘Alexander the Great: “Last of the Achaemenids”?’, in C. Tuplin (ed.), Persian Responses: Political and Cultural Interaction with(in) the Achaemenid Empire (Swansea) 267–311Google Scholar
Lang, M. and Rollinger, R. (2010) ‘Im Herzen der Meere und in der Mitte des Meeres. Das Buch Ezechiel und die in assyrischer Zeit fassbaren Vorstellungen von den Grenzen der Welt’, in R. Rollinger, B. Gufler, M. Lang and I. Madreiter (eds), Interkulturalität in der Alten Welt: Vorderasien, Hellas, Ägypten und die vielfältigen Ebenen des Kontakts (Philippika 34) (Wiesbaden) 207–64Google Scholar
Liotsakis, V. (2019) Alexander the Great in Arrian’s ‘Anabasis’: A Literary Portrait (Trends in Classics – Supplementary Volumes 78) (Berlin and Boston)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Marín, A.I.M. (2017) ‘Under the shadow of Eratosthenes: Strabo and the Alexander historians’, in D. Dueck (ed.), The Routledge Companion to Strabo (London) 294–305CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Marín, A.I.M. (2018) Alejandro Magno (19162015): un siglo de estudios sobre Macedonia Antigua (Zaragosa)Google Scholar
Mariotta, G. (2017) ‘Una spedizione di Onesicrito nello Sri Lanka?’, Sileno 43, 113–20Google Scholar
Matijašić, I. (2019) ‘Herodotus in the theatre at Alexandria? On Athenaeus 14.620D’, JHS 139, 8393 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Meeus, A. (2014) ‘The territorial ambitions of Ptolemy I’, in H. Hauben and A. Meeus (eds), The Age of the Successors and the Creation of the Hellenistic Kingdoms (323276 B.C.) (Studia Hellenistica 53) (Leuven, Paris and Bristol) 263–306Google Scholar
Müller, S. (2011) ‘Onesikritos und das Achaimenidenreich’, Anabasis 2, 4566 Google Scholar
Müller, S. (2014) Alexander, Makedonien und Persien (Frankfurter Kulturwissenschaftliche Beiträge 18) (Berlin)Google Scholar
Murray, D. (2016) ‘The waters at the end of the world: Herodotus and Mesopotamian cosmic geography’, in E. Barker, S. Bouzarovski, C. Pelling and L. Isaksen (eds), New Worlds from Old Texts: Revisiting Space and Place (Oxford) 47–60Google Scholar
Nagle, D.B. (1996) ‘The cultural context of Alexander’s speech at Opis’, TAPhA 126, 151–72Google Scholar
Nawotka, K. (2010) Alexander the Great (Cambridge)Google Scholar
Olbrycht, J.M. (2015) ‘An admirer of Persian ways: Alexander the Great’s reforms in Parthia-Hyrcania and the Iranian heritage’, in T. Darayee, A. Mousavi and K. Rhezakhani (eds), Excavating an Empire: Achaemenid Persia in Longue Durée (Costa Mesa) 37–62Google Scholar
Parker, B.J. (2011) ‘The construction and performance of kingship in the Neo-Assyrian empire’, Journal of Anthropological Research 67, 357–86CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Pearson, L. (1960) The Lost Histories of Alexander the Great (Chicago)Google Scholar
Pédech, P. (1984) Historiens compagnons d’Alexandre (Paris)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Potts, D.T. (2019) ‘The islands of the XIVth satrapy’, in R. Oetjen (ed.), New Perspectives in Seleucid History, Archaeology and Numismatics: Studies in Honor of Getzel M. Cohen (Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 355) (Berlin) 375–96CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Rollinger, R. (2014a) ‘Dareios und Xerxes an den Rändern der Welt und die Inszenierung von Weltherrschaft. Altorientalisches bei Herodot’, in B. Dunsch and K. Ruffing (eds), Herodots Quellen: Die Quellen Herodots – Herodotus and His Sources (Classica et Orientalia 6), (Wiesbaden) 95–116Google Scholar
Rollinger, R. (2014b) ‘Thinking and writing about history in Teispid and Achaemenid Persia’, in K. Raaflaub (ed.), Thinking, Recording, and Writing History in the Ancient World (Malden, Oxford and Chichester) 187–212CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Rollinger, R. (2015) ‘Aornos and the mountains of the East: the Assyrian kings and Alexander the Great’, in S. Gaspa, A. Greco, D.M. Bonacossi, S. Ponchia and R. Rollinger (eds), From Source to History: Studies on Ancient Near Eastern Worlds and Beyond. Dedicated to Giovanni Battista Lanfranchi on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday on June 23, 2014 (Alter Orient und Altes Testament Band 412) (Münster) 597–635Google Scholar
Rollinger, R. (2016) ‘Royal strategies of representation and the language(s) of power: some considerations on the audience and the dissemination of the Achaemenid royal inscriptions’, in S. Procházka, L. Reinfandt and S. Tost (eds), Official Epistolography and the Language(s) of Power (Papyrologica Vindobonensia 8) (Vienna) 117–30Google Scholar
Rollinger, R. (2018) ‘Herodotus and the transformation of ancient Near Eastern motifs: Darius I, Oebares, and the neighing horse’, in T. Harrison and E. Irwin (eds), Interpreting Herodotus (Oxford) 125–48Google Scholar
Rollinger, R. and Degen, J. (2021a) ‘Conceptualizing universal rulership: considerations on the Persian Achaemenid worldview and the Saka at the “end of the world”’, in H. Klinkott, L. Luther and J. Wiesehöfer (eds), Beiträge zur Geschichte und Kultur des alten Iran und benachbarter Gebiete: Festschrift für Rüdiger Schmitt (Oriens et Occidens 36) (Stuttgart) 187–224Google Scholar
Rollinger, R. and Degen, J. (2021b) ‘Alexander the Great and the borders of the world’, in D. Agut-Labordère, R. Boucharlat, F. Joannès, A. Kuhrt and M.W. Stolper (eds), Achemenet. Vingt ans après. Études offertes à Pierre Briant à l’occasion des vingt ans du Programme Achemenet (Persika 21) (Leuven) 321–42CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Rosen, K. (1979) ‘Politische Ziele in der Frühen Hellenistischen Geschichtsschreibung’, Hermes 107, 460–77Google Scholar
Schaudig, H.-P. (2018) ‘The text of the Cyrus Cylinder’, in M.R. Shayegan (ed.), Cyrus the Great: Life and Lore (Ilex Series 21) (Cambridge MA and London) 16–25Google Scholar
Schepens, G. (1997) ‘Jacoby’s FGrHist: problems, methods, prospects’, in G.W. Most (ed.), Collecting Fragments – Fragmente sammeln (Aporemata 1) (Göttingen) 144–72Google Scholar
Schmitt, R. (1988) ‘Achaimenideninschriften in griechischer literarischer Überlieferung’, in W. Sundermann, J. Duchesne-Guillemin and F. Vahman (eds), A Green Leaf: Papers in Honour of Professor Jes P. Asmussen (Acta Iranica 28) (Leiden) 17–38Google Scholar
Schmitt, R. (2014) Wörterbuch der altpersischen Königsinschriften (Wiesbaden)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Schwab, A. (2017) ‘Achaimenidische Königsideologie in Herodots Erzählung über Xerxes, Hdt. 7,8–11’, in H. Klinkott and N. Kramer (eds), Zwischen Assur und Athen: Altorientalisches in den Historien Herodots (SpielRäume der Antike 4) (Stuttgart) 163–95Google Scholar
Seibert, J. (2004) ‘Alexander der Großen an den Gräbern der Perserkönige’, in H. Seibert and G. Thoma (eds), Von Sachsen bis Jerusalem: Menschen und Institutionen im Wandel der Zeit: Festschrift für Wolfgang Giese zum 65. Geburtstag (Munich) 13–30Google Scholar
Setaioli, A. (2013) ‘Ethics I: philosophy as therapy, self-transformation, and “Lebensform”’, in G. Damschen and A. Heil (eds), Brill’s Companion to Seneca: Philosopher and Dramatist (Brill’s Companions to Classical Studies) (Leiden) 239–56Google Scholar
Spawforth, A. (2012) ‘The pamphleteer Ephippus, king Alexander and the Persian royal hunt’, Histos 6, 169213 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Squillace, G. (2018) ‘Alexander after Alexander: Macedonian propaganda and historical memory in Ptolemy and Aristobulus’ writings’, in K. Moore (ed.), Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great (Brill’s Companions to Classical Reception 14) (Leiden and Boston) 119–39CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Stadter, P.A. (1980) Arrian of Nicomedia (Chapel Hill and London)Google Scholar
Stevens, K. (2014) ‘The Antiochus cylinder, Babylonian scholarship and Seleucid imperial ideology’, JHS 134, 6688 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Stoneman, R. (1995) ‘Naked philosophers: the Brahmans in the Alexander historians and the Alexander romance’, JHS 115, 99114 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Stoneman, R. (2019) The Greek Experience of India: From Alexander to the Indo-Greeks (Princeton)Google Scholar
Strootman, R. (2014) ‘“Men to whose rapacity neither sea nor mountain sets a limit”: the aims of the Diadochs’, in H. Hauben and A. Meuss (eds), The Age of the Successors and the Creation of the Hellenistic Kingdoms (323276 B.C.) (Studia Hellenistica 53) (Leuven) 305–22Google Scholar
Taietti, G.D.M. (2016) ‘Alexander the Great as a Herodotean Persian king’, in K. Nawotka and A. Wojciechowska (eds), Alexander the Great and the East: History, Art, Tradition (Philippika 103) (Wiesbaden) 159–77Google Scholar
Trampedach, K. and Meeus, A. (2020) ‘Introduction: understanding Alexander’s relations with his subjects’, in K. Trampedach and A. Meeus (eds), The Legitimation of Conquest: Monarchical Representation and the Art of Government in the Empire of Alexander the Great (Studies in Ancient Monarchies 7) (Stuttgart) 9–18Google Scholar
Watt, W.S. (1994) ‘Notes on Seneca, De beneficiis, De clementia, and Dialogi ’, HSPh 96, 225–39Google Scholar
Whitby, M. (2011) ‘Onesikritos (134)’, in I. Worthington (ed.), Brill’s New Jacoby http://doi.org/10.1163/1873-5363_bnj_a134 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Wiemer, H.-U. (2007) ‘Alexander – der letzte Achaimenide? Eroberungspolitik, lokale Eliten und altorientalische Traditionen im Jahr 323’, HZ 284, 283309 Google Scholar
Winiarczyk, M. (2007) ‘Das Werk Die Erziehung Alexanders des Onesikritos von Astypalaia (FGrHist 134 F 1–39). Forschungsstand (1832–2005) und Interpretationsversuch’, Eos 94, 197250 Google Scholar
Winiarczyk, M. (2011) Die hellenistischen Utopien (Beiträge zur Altertumskunde 293) (Berlin and New York)CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Worthington, I. (2016) Ptolemy I: King and Pharaoh of Egypt (New York and Oxford)Google Scholar
Wüst, F.R. (1953) ‘Die Rede Alexanders des Grossen in Opis, Arrian VII 9–10’, Historia 2, 177–88Google Scholar
Yamada, K. (2005) ‘“From the Upper Sea to the Lower Sea”: the development of the names of seas in the Assyrian royal inscriptions’, Orient 40, 3155 CrossRefGoogle Scholar
Zambrini, A. (2007) ‘The historians of Alexander the Great’, in J. Marincola (ed.), A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography (Blackwell Companions to the Ancient World) (Malden and Oxford) 210–20CrossRefGoogle Scholar