is there a chance that ochus, the supposed son of darius iii, was real? maybe he died later on while still a child so there were no more mentions of him, or he got killed by alexander or his successors and for the most part written out of history, or further brief mentions were lost to time? there's a lot of claims that he was made up by the romans to make alexander look good and the story of him meeting the boy was for rhetorics sake (which makes sense but I never would've made that connection alone) and I'm genuinely curious how historians tell apart history from propaganda/moralising tales
First, apologies for taking so long. It’s been a hellacious November, in terms of university service expectations.
How do we recognize Romanizing and other propagandic trends in [Alexander] histories?
This is a GREAT question; I’m glad you asked. Let’s take a look at that larger question embedded at the end, then we can address Ochus.
I didn’t know any of this stuff either when I first started reading the sources. I took everything (more or less) at face value. I wasn’t completely credulous, but I just didn’t know what should be pinging my “probably not” radar. I loved all the little anecdotes from Plutarch (in his Life and the Moralia), plus Athenaeus’s Supper Party, etc. Now I regard it all with a great deal of wariness.
The first hurdle is recognizing these anecdotes are more akin to Roman Chicken Soup for the Soul than history.
The second hurdle is understanding the ancient morals those anecdotes are meant either to reinforce with positive exempla, or warn about with negative exempla.
The first I think most of us can be aware of and be wary of. The second is harder, as it requires some familiarity with Roman (and Greek) culture, and the only way to get that familiarity is to read a lot (or take classes) outside of matters specifically Alexander.
I’ve always read Greek history while “looking in from the north.” E.g., a Macedonian perspective. But because of that, I didn’t necessarily recognize Greek (and later Roman) viewpoints coloring what I was reading about Alexander/Macedonia. That said, at least I was thinking about it. The reverse… coming into Macedonian history from the South (Greece)… can be deceptive. One might accept the Greek view as THE view and forget it’s just as biased. Same thing for Rome.
Basically, we must remain aware of these various perspectives.
So, what are some of the most common biases? Let’s subdivide these into “Greek” and “Roman” as the broadest brushstrokes.
Classical (and Hellenistic) Greek Biases
First, Athens dominates Greek literature to the point it’s sometimes hard to unthread “Greek” from “Athenian.” This is an artifact of the literature that’s survived: it’s mostly Athenian. Ergo, responsible historians may limit themselves to the available literature, which can create a sense that Athenian history = Greek history for readers who aren’t reading carefully.
That means we have a distinctly pro-democratic/anti-oligarchic view. To the pro-democratic mind, anything not democratic is “tyrannical.” But to the monarchal/oligarchic mind, tyrannical is not oligarchic or monarchic. This is important. A tyrant ruled “extralegally,” and sometimes “illegally.” But if one equates monarchy with tyranny, then a king is illegal. That’s the connection democratic Athens wanted. Philip of Macedon (and Alexander) were TYRANTS! OMG!
Yet to them, not only were they legal rulers, but divinely appointed with heroic blood (Herakles) and special religious cultic requirements + “divine charisma.” That’s way different from a tyrant. So it’s important to understand that perspective in our [Athenian] rhetoric about Philip and later Alexander.
Because these Athenian, pro-democratic narratives dovetailed with later post-revolutionary literature of the mid-1700s and later—which also corresponded with the rise or archaeology and birth of Classics—these biases were not examined closely until relatively recently.
Whatever our modern political theories, we must understand that ancient Athenian democracy coincided with Athenian imperialism. (Um, American democracy and American imperialism?) Athenian objection to Macedon’s rise centered on the fact they’d been displaced as the political leaders of the peninsula. So no, this is not “pure” democracy battling autocratic imperialism. It’s one empire battling the rise of another empire. Ergo, it served Athens to portray the other empire as northern barbarians (never mind they were cultural cousins to the Greeks of the south).
So that’s one layer of cultural context for understanding Alexander in Greek literature. The first generation of surviving texts is 99% Athenian writers discussing Macedonia, their enemy. We have NO surviving (contemporary) Macedonian sources.
Now, let’s look at some other important themes.
Sophrosunē: the Greek ideal of “self-control” in contrast to hubris. This is not unrelated to the Roman ideals of moderationem and disciplina, self-control and moral improvement. BOTH cultures put a premium on the ability to self-regulate, particularly in public arenas, creating a certain tension in the highly agonistic atmosphere of both Greece and Rome where the only “bad” boast was a lying one. If one didn’t toot their own horn, nobody else would. BUT hubris, or immoderate (impious) pride, remained an ever-present danger. Keep in mind that, for the Greeks, hubris had religious overtones we’ve mostly lost in our modern world. It’s pride that steps on the (purple) hem of the gods. (This is one reason I’m italicizing it as a foreign term, not the English equivalent.)
Greeks and Romans (et al.) spent a LOT of time worrying about that tension. Aristotle would posit the Golden Mean as the middle way between extremes. Greed (and Success) is Good… except when it’s not. When it goes too far. But what’s too far? That was a moving target. And Alexander really moved the target! The heroes were there to inspire, emulate…and beat, if one could. That wasn’t impious (asebia).
Alexander elevated, emulated, and tried to surpass Herakles. And that was OKAY. He wasn’t “bad” for that. He was praised.
So those are both very Greek issues, the concern with tyranny, which was often used as a cover for imperialistic notions in “democratic” clothing. And the worry with self-control versus hubris.
Imperial Roman (and Romano-Greek) Biases
I’ve mostly skipped over Hellenistic era material. In part because we don’t have as much as we might like (about Alexander). That said, there is a LOT of recent work on Hellenistic adaptations of kingship; see John Holton, et al. But as our surviving histories of Alexander are all either very, very late Roman Republic (Diodoros) or Roman imperial (Curtius, Plutarch, Arrian, and Justin—in that order), we need to situate ourselves in that world.
In which case, we must deal with a lot of Roman narratives not just about self-control, especially stoic (philosophical) narratives, but also projections of imperium from the Middle Republic era of Scipio down to Augustus in the early empire, and later imperial concerns with excess and immoderation. Alexander’s reputation in Rome rose and fell, depending on how he was useful… as aspiration or a cautionary tale. During the Late Republic, Alexander was mostly useful to the egos of aspiring Roman consuls and proconsuls: Caesar of course, but not just him. Pompey styled himself as Alexander too. Then, under Augustus, Alexander’s rep tanked as Octavian hooked him to Cleopatra VII (and Marc Antony): the wicked, extravagant east with deification of human beings, etc. Yes, Augustus visited Alexander’s tomb in Alexandria, but Alexander was not really presented as "good." So for a while, Alexander was out of favor. By the middle empire, especially Trajan on, with expansion back on the menu, Alexander also returned to favor.
So the main thing to keep in mind when reviewing the Roman literature is that it varied. There wasn’t a uniform opinion. Alexander became a symbol more than a real historical figure. He’s frequently used as a model for education: here are things you should do; here are things you shouldn’t do. And certain stories wind up oddly popular. While other things… aren’t.
We see Alexander become an example of:
Hubris (excessive pride/wanting to be like a god)
Excessive emotion (especially anger and grief)
Excessive drink/drunkenness
The corruption of power/evils of wealth/Asia
These are particularly important to stoic narratives promoting ataraxia (not unlike sophrosunē, but specific to stoicism).
These things are also tied into Roman narratives about imperial excess. Ironically, Alexander became for Roman emperors what the Greek heroes were for Alexander: somebody to emulate, but also to beat.
So, Roman ideas about Alexander are more about then-current Roman politics than historical reality. And as the then-current needs changed…so did the narrative.
Writers of Alexander histories are catering to those needs. So we find, even in our chief “good” historian Arrian, a narrative about the political revolt against Alexander by the army while they were in Baktria. Even Arrian admits to “adjusting” the timing of events to fit a specific narrative of the Philotas Affair, the so-called Proskynesis Affair (which may not have happened), and the murder of Kleitos and the Pages Conspiracy. All these things were carefully curated to produce a story of Alexander’s increasing tyranny/hubris. Modern historians have tended to frame it as megalomania and delusions of godhood.
GUSY… that suited very Roman concerns. Not the concerns of the Macedonians. This is not to say these things (other than proskynesis) weren't issues. But that they’ve been reinterpreted to fit later narratives about (imperial) overreach.
Next, we have imperial anti-Asian anxiety. This dates back at least to the Antony-Octavian conflict and even before. (Really, we could go back to the Greco-Persian Wars here.) Romans considered those Evil Degenerate Asians as the bad guys, which they projected onto Alexander’s campaign. Ergo any attempt by Alexander to include Persians (others) in his rule is a Horrid Descent Into Moral Iniquity!
There are a lot of other things going on too. I’d point the curious to two super-useful books:
Alexander the Great: The Unique History of Curtius Rufus by Elizabeth Baynham
The Roman Alexander: Reading a Cultural Myth by Diana Spencer (yeah, not THAT Diana Spencer, sorry)
Both these, but especially the latter, explore Roman motifs in the Alexander histories. I might also add Dan Leon’s recent work on Arrian to get a sense of how Arrian operated, as well. As yes, Arrian was Greek…but Romanized Greek.
Arrian the Historian: Writing the Greek Past in the Roman Empire by Daniel W. Leon
Finally, the anxiety about tyranny that we find in the Greek texts doesn’t go away so much as it transforms into anxiety about despotism. By the time our surviving authors are writing (including Diodoros), the Roman Republic was dead, and for several of them, the empire had gone through some rough patches with incompetent and ruthless rulers, several of whom had strong ties to the East—which was still seen as the land of servile peoples. (Back to our anti-Asian bias.) Ergo, for writers such as Curtius, and certainly for Justin, Alexander presents a useful parable. Justin’s lens was wider, harkening back to Pompeius Trogus, whose Philippic (world) history he epitomized. But I find especially Curtius interesting to understand the Roman viewpoint as opposed to the Greco-Roman view of the Second Sophistic. The Second Sophistic is a Greek movement, not a Latin one. They were concerned with the Golden Era of a (free) Greek past and sought to elevate the virtues they believed had led to former Greek greatness.
Roman sensibilities were different. Curtius portrays Alexander as quite admirable and highly moral initially. Fortuna smiles on him. But his wild success goes to his head as he’s seduced by Asian wealth and unbridled power. He is corrupted.
This brings us back around finally to Ochus. (No, I didn’t forget.) The story of Alexander (and Hephaistion) before the royal Persian Women is quite probably invention, perhaps from Kleitarchos. So its origin is Greek, but remember that these authors don’t just copy-and-paste. They adjust and editorialize. Even Arrian didn’t completely dismiss the tale of the meeting (although I think it’s clear from his tone that he’s skeptical, and in his version Ochus is an infant). Yet it ticked all the boxes Curtius wanted: it showed the young Alexander as gracious in victory to deserving (e.g., high-born) women in his power (clementia) and appropriate amicitia (loyal friendship) to Hephaistion. Then, at the end, Curtius contrasts Darius’s cowardice with true virtus and fortitudo (virtuous courage) in Darius’s son. So Alexander picks up Ochus and treats him almost as his own (more clementia). Virtue knows virtue. It’s a fantastic little parable, see?
And we never hear about Ochus again.
Some assume a sinister end for the boy, but I just see a convenient symbol for Curtius. He may have had an older son by his first wife, named Ariobarzanes (who died at Granikos) and he certainly had a brother, Oxyathres, who rose rather high at Alexander’s court. Now, it’s entirely possible we don’t hear about Ochus again because he was still a child at Alexander’s own death 8 years later. If he were as young as he seems in the story, he might have been just 14/15 at that point, or maybe as young as 8/9—easy to be done away with in the Successor Wars as too dangerous: a symbol around whom Persians might rally. But Darius’s (fully grown) brother, Oxyathres, would have been a better choice.
If we don’t directly hear about Oxyathres again either, he was father of Amastris, wife of Krateros. So like Hephaistion, Krateros got a royal princess. She and Krateros divorced by mutual agreement so that he could marry Phila (Antipatros’s favorite daughter), and she could marry the tyrant of Herakleia Pontika, Dionysios. She went on to become Queen of Heraklea in her own right later. Nowhere is there mention of her father’s murder. Furthermore, two of her three children with Dionysios bore Persian names: her daughter, named after her, and the youngest son after her own father. If Oxyathres had been murdered, Amastris might not have wanted to name her son after him and draw attention to the fact he had royal Achaemenid blood. The fact she did suggests she saw that as valuable, not a liability. (Seleukos also had the good sense to hang on to his wife, Apama, daughter of Spitamanes, whose daughter was also named after her mother. Just as Alexander’s second wife, Statiera, took the same throne name as her mother.)
Anyway, Ochus disappears—if he ever existed. Given that the other members of the royal family are not killed, I lean to the conclusion he was an invention all along, because he served a purpose in Curtius’s storytelling. If he was real, he was extremely young.
