Archons and Strategoi

Athenian history in the fifth century B.C. has, on the whole, become a battlefield where only the trained hoplite ran compete. By contrast, the period from Cleisthenes down to 480 is one where the mere peltast still has an honest chance. There are—at least in internal history—practically no facts known, and ingenuity and imagination have been limited only by what the audience has been ready to believe. These limits have traditionally been generous. And the state of affairs has tended to permit and even to encourage what philosophers call the ‘conspiracy theory’ of history. This, of course, has many aspects; but the one that interests us here may be formulated as follows: ‘All historical events happen because someone planned that they should happen; and all historical events happen just as someone planned that they should happen, unless they are upset by the counter-plans of someone else. It is the duty of the historian to elucidate these plans and counter-plans, and in doing so he is explaining the events.’ Students of ancient history have always tended to adhere to this theory, perhaps because they are exceptionally rational people, or perhaps because most of them, in the past, grew up in an atmosphere like that of The Masters, where this theory can most profitably be applied. But in any case: the fewer the attested facts, the easier—and the more tempting—to combine them all in a grand design, successful or (at the worst) frustrated. And nowhere do these conditions more obviously obtain than in the period I have mentioned. The plans and counter-plans of Cleisthenes, Miltiades, Aristides and Themistocles fill the pages of our standard works with such exciting goings-on that the student ceases to be receptive to the still, small voice recalling him to the extent of our evidence. It is the purpose of this paper to examine one very small item of evidence, well known to us all, and to make as little as possible of it.