Lucian How To Write History Pdf

[Jules Altier]

Howto Write History (Ancient Greek: Πῶς δεῖ ἱστορίαν συγγράφειν) is the title of a study by the classical Syrian[1] writer Lucian, which may be considered the only work on the theory of history-writing to survive from antiquity.[2]

Lucian, in this letter to his friend Philo, after having exposed the absurdities of some contemporary historians with infinite humor, whose works having been consigned to oblivion have never reached us, Lucian lays down excelent rules and directions for writing history. Readers will find Lucian's treatment pleasing and entertaining, perhaps thought provoking, useful, sensible, and instructive. This is indeed one of Lucian's best pieces.

- Based on Francklin

The vulgar may very likely extend their favour to this; but the select (whose judgement you disregard) will get a good deal of entertainment out of your heterogeneous, disjointed, fragmentary stuff. There is nothing which has not a beauty of its own; but take it out of its proper sphere, and the misuse turns its beauty to ugliness. Eulogy, I need hardly say, may possibly please one person, the eulogized, but will disgust everyone else; this is particularly so with the monstrous exaggerations which are in fashion; the authors are so intent on the patron-hunt that they cannot relinquish it without a full exhibition of servility; they have no idea of finesse, never mask their flattery, but blurt out their unconvincing bald tale anyhow.

By the way, he has also a very attractive tale of Severian, learnt, he assures us on oath, from one of the actual fugitives. According to this, he would not die by the sword, the rope, or poison, but contrived a death which should be tragic and impressive. He was the owner of some large goblets of the most precious glass; having made up his mind to die, he broke the largest of these, and used a splinter of it for the purpose, cutting his throat with the glass. A dagger or a lancet, good enough instruments for a manly and heroic death, he could not come at, forsooth!

I assure you, my friend, I could largely increase my list of such offenders; but one or two more will suffice, before proceeding to the second part of my undertaking, the suggestions for improvement. There are some, then, who leave alone, or deal very cursorily with, all that is great and memorable; amateurs and not artists, they have no selective faculty, and loiter over copious laboured descriptions of the veriest trifles; it is as if a visitor to Olympia, instead of examining, commending or describing to his stay-at-home friends the general greatness and beauty of the Zeus, were to be struck with the exact symmetry and polish of its footstool, or the proportions of its shoe, and give all his attention to these minor points.

Well then, my perfect historian must start with two indispensable qualifications; the one is political insight, the other the faculty of expression; the first is a gift of nature, which can never be learnt; the second should have been acquired by long practice, unremitting toil, and loving study of the classics. There is nothing technical here, and no room for any advice of mine; this essay does not profess to bestow insight and acumen on those who are not endowed with them by nature; valuable, or invaluable rather, would it have been, if it could recast and modify like that, transmute lead into gold, tin into silver, magnify a Conon or Leotrophides into Titormus or Milo.

I do not suppose you will object that the man with insight has no need of system and instruction upon the things he is ignorant of; in that case he might have played the harp or flute untaught, and in fact have been omniscient. But, as things are at present, he cannot perform in these ways untaught, though with some assistance he will learn very easily, and soon be able to get along by himself.

There stands my model, then: fearless, incorruptible, independent, a believer in frankness and veracity; one that will call a spade a spade, make no concession to likes and dislikes, nor spare any man for pity or respect or propriety; an impartial judge, kind to all, but too kind to none; a literary cosmopolite with neither suzerain nor king, never heeding what this or that man may think, but setting down the thing that befell.

Facts are not to be collected at haphazard, but with careful, laborious, repeated investigation; when possible, a man should have been present and seen for himself; failing that, he should prefer the disinterested account, selecting the informants least likely to diminish or magnify from partiality. And here comes the occasion for exercising the judgement in weighing probabilities.

The material once complete, or nearly so, an abstract should be made of it, and a rough draught of the whole work put down, not yet distributed into its parts; the detailed arrangement should then be introduced, after which adornment may be added, the diction receive its colour, the phrasing and rhythm be perfected.

All this, however, with moderation; a subject is not to be ridden to death; no neglect of proportion, no childish engrossment, but easy transitions. He should call a halt here, while he crosses over to another set of operations which demands attention; that settled up, he can return to the first set, now ripe for him; he must pass swiftly to each in turn, keeping his different lines of advance as nearly as possible level, fly from Armenia to Media, thence swoop straight upon Iberia, and then take wing for Italy, everywhere present at the nick of time.

When all is ready, a writer will sometimes start without formal preface, if there is no pressing occasion to clear away preliminaries by that means, though even then his explanation of what he is to say constitutes a virtual preface.

Brevity is always desirable, and especially where matter is abundant; and the problem is less a grammatical than a substantial one; the solution, I mean, is to deal summarily with all immaterial details, and give adequate treatment to the principal events; much, indeed, is better omitted altogether. Suppose yourself giving a dinner, and extremely well provided; there is pastry, game, kickshaws without end, wild boar, hare, sweetbreads; well, you will not produce among these a pike, or a bowl of peasoup, just because they are there in the kitchen; you will dispense with such common things.

Not so with praise or censure; these should be sparing, cautious, avoiding hypercriticism and producing proofs, always brief, and never intrusive; historical characters are not prisoners on trial. Without these precautions you will share the ill name of Theopompus, who delights in flinging accusations broadcast, makes a business of the thing in fact, and of himself rather a public prosecutor than a historian.

It may occasionally happen that some extraordinary story has to be introduced; it should be simply narrated, without guarantee of its truth, thrown down for any one to make what he can of it; the writer takes no risks and shows no preference.

Do you know the story of the great Cnidian architect? He was the builder of that incomparable work, whether for size or beauty, the Pharus tower. Its light was to warn ships far out at sea, and save them from running on the Paraetonia, a spot so fatal to all who get among its reefs that escape is said to be hopeless. When the building was done, he inscribed on the actual masonry his own name, but covered this up with plaster, on which he then added the name of the reigning king. He knew that, as happened later, letters and plaster would fall off together, and reveal the words:

Martin Gayford is a writer and art critic. His books include Man with a Blue Scarf: On Sitting for a Portrait by Lucian Freud; Modernists and Mavericks: Bacon, Freud, Hockney and the London Painters; A History of Pictures: From the Cave to the Computer Screen and Spring Cannot Be Cancelled: David Hockney in Normandy, both with David Hockney; Shaping the World: Sculpture from Prehistory to Now, with Antony Gormley; Love Lucian: The Letters of Lucian Freud, 1939-1954, with David Dawson; and Venice: City of Pictures.

Quasten writes, "Lucian was not a prolific writer. Jerome refers to his 'small treatise on faith' (De vir. ill. 77) without indication of its contents. He was a Hebrew scholar and corrected the Greek version of the Old Testament from the original. This revision of the Septuagint was adopted by the greater number of the churches of Syria and Asia Minor from Antioch to Byzantium, and was highly esteemed (Jerome, Praef. in Paral.; Adv. Ruf. 2,27). Large fragments of it are extant in the writings of St. John Chrysostom and Theodoret. Lucian extended his textual criticism to the New Testament also, but limited it most probably to the four Gospels." (Patrology, vol. 2, p. 388)

T. Bhm writes, "Lucian is often said to have been the founder of Antiochene exegesis by making a literal interpretation of the scriptures. But the sources (especially Eusebius and Philostorgius) do not say this. The formation of a school in Antioch began only with Diodorus and Theodore." (Dictionary of Early Christian Writings, p. 388)

Enrico Norelli writes, "Eusebius mentions the martyrdom of Lucian of Antioch at Nicomedia under Maximus Daia on January 7, 312 (Hist. eccl. 9.6.3). Rufinus added to his Latin translation of the Ecclesiastical History the apology delivered by Lucian on that occasion; its authenticity is uncertain. Lucian has traditionally been regarded as the inaugurator of the Antiochene exegetical school with its literalist tendency, but in fact that school was begun by Diodorus of Tarsus (see vol. II of this history). Lucian was a teacher of Arius and many of the latter's followers, who liked to call themselves 'Collucianists.' Lucian seems to have taught a strongly subordinationist Christology, thereby anticipating the Arian doctrine. On the other hand, the statement by Bishop Alexander of Alexandria in a letter written a decade after Lucian's death seems untrustworthy (the letter is in Theodoret, Hist. eccl. 1.4). According to the letter, Lucian was successor to Paul of Samosata; it may be that Lucian's subordinationism was intended to offset the monarchianism of Paul and, as a result, ended up devaluing the Son, but from an opposite point of view." (Early Christian Greek and Latin Literature, vol. 1, p. 312)T. Bhm writes, "An influential theory, based on various sources (Arius [Doc. 1]; Alexander Alex. [Doc 14]; Marius Victorinus [adv. Arium 1.43]; Epiphanius [anc. 33.4]; and Philostorgius [h.e. 2.3; 14.3.15]), maintained that Lucian was a precursor of Arius; it included a literal exegesis that does not in fact provably represent Arius. In almost a vicious circle, the theories seek to derive from Arius and other "Lucianists" a doctrine of Lucian that they then apply as a means of determining the views of Arius. But the theory of an influence of Lucian on Arius must be abandoned. In addition, there are clear differences between Arius and the other Lucianists and among the latter themselves, so that an attempt to recognstruct the teaching of Lucian must fail." (Dictionary of Early Christian Writings, p. 388)

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