To appreciate the appeal of J.B. Bury’s legendary old masterpiece, one has to transport oneself into the mindset of a teenage boy for whom the exploits of an Alexander the Great, a Charlemagne or a Napoleon are exciting and worldly glory counts for something. Bury has condensed all the ancient documents and stitched together a connected narrative stretching over nearly a thousand years, up to its terminus ad quem in 323 BC. The reader will revel in an almost blow-by-blow account of the battles against the invading Persian army under Xerxes at Thermopylae and Salamis, the Peloponnesian war, the fall of Athens and the Spartan supremacy, the second Athenian league, the hegemony of Thebes, the rise of Macedonia under Philip II and, in culmination, a circumstantial retelling of Alexander’s campaigns in Persia and the far East. How memorable is the tale of the bravery of Alexander in his final engagement, at the very outer limit of the world in Hindustan, surmounting the walls of the citadel of Sangala and leaping, alone, into the keep to confront the enemy! He vanquished his foe and in the process received an almost mortal wound, before his compatriots could open the gate and come to his aid.
When this reviewer was a freshman at Princeton, his old-school professor of history Robert Connor organized a mock hoplite battle among the students enrolled in his lectures, with cardboard shields but minus the spears, on an open field next to the astrophysics and mathematics departments, so that one could gain a visceral impression of what it is like to fight in closed ranks. These days, one could scarcely repeat the like; for one thing, the empty ground has been covered with a trendy postmodern library. Every newly appointed self-important administrator wants to make his mark by erecting something new and supposedly indispensable, an institute here, a program of studies in whatever there, and this establishes an ineluctable inbuilt bureaucratic imperative to wreck what is old. Every last tree has to be cut down, every last quad paved over or crammed with ugly architecture that clashes with the collegiate Gothic. There is no countervailing pressure to preserve what is good on the existing campus (this unfortunate fact of life goes under the heading of what economists call the tragedy of the commons; there are any number of good economists on the faculty but none, it seems, is moved to apply what he teaches about in the classroom to the active preservation of the commons outside his very office window). Sad to think that if one were to seek to revisit one’s old haunts, one would doubtless only find that most all of them have long since been obliterated. Ironic, for all the Ivy League universities’ salutary efforts to include underrepresented minorities, by the time they get to the campus whatever once made it distinctive will have disappeared and they will experience only just another bleak urbanized sprawl.
Back to the text under review. Bury’s tome is confessedly a strictly political history, as we may gather from this extract from the preface to the first edition: ‘It was a necessary consequence of the limitations of space which I imposed upon myself, that literature and art, philosophy and religion, should be touched upon only when they directly illustrate, or come into some specially intimate connection with, the political history. It will be found that I have sometimes interpreted this rule liberally; but it is a rule which could be the more readily adopted as so many excellent works dealing with art, literature, and philosophy are now easily accessible. The interspersion, in a short political history, of a few unconnected chapters dealing, as they must deal, inadequately with art and literature seems useless and inartistic’ (p. vii).
Therefore, it will come as little surprise that the text is weak on cultural understanding. Mycenaean civilization and the heroic age are covered fairly well, however, as one has only the archaeological record to rely on; and the same goes for the succeeding dark age, the Dorian invasion, the expansion of the Greeks into Ionia and later the colonization of Magna Graecia. At this point, the narrative of political events can pick up, once extant sources become available. Here the focus narrows and the omissions become glaring. Religious developments during the age of Solon and the spread of Orphism get a mere couple pages each; there is nothing whatsoever on Greek drama or poetry, aside from a paragraph or two notice on Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. Thus, reading Bury one won’t gather very much of a feeling for what a typical ritual sacrifice at a communion meal was like or what could have happened when one underwent the Eleusinian mysteries. For this one might turn to Walter Burkert’s staid classic monograph Greek Religion or, if more daring, perhaps to Walter Otto’s Die Götter Griechenlands: Das Bild des Göttlichen im Spiegel des griechischen Geistes or his more concise and pointed Theophania: Der Geist der altgriechischen Religion.
As for philosophy, Thales, Heraclitus and Parmenides are disposed of in a few sentences each, Xenophanes in a paragraph; the other pre-Socratics merit no mention at all. Bury’s rationalistic viewpoint is brought out well by the following summary passage: ‘With Parmenides and Heraclitus, philosophy in the strict sense, metaphysics as we call it, was fully founded. We have not to pursue the development here; but we have to realise that the establishment of the study of philosophy was one of the most momentous facts in the history of the Greeks. It meant the triumph of reason over mystery; it led to the discrediting of the Orphic movement; it ensured the free political and social progress of Hellas….We may say, with propriety, that a great peril was averted from Greece by the healthful influence of the immortal thinkers of Ionia. But this, after all, is only a superficial way of putting the fact. If we look deeper, we see that the victory of philosophy over the doctrines of the priests was simply the expression of the Greek spirit, which inevitably sought its highest satisfaction in the full expression of its own powers in the free light of reason’ (p. 199).
Can a professor at Cambridge in the first half of the twentieth century really have been so simplistic? Apparently so! Needless to say, there is nothing here on Socrates, Plato and Aristotle, either.
All the same, one should bear in mind that Bury’s conventional politically-oriented history is very good for what it is and not tax him too hard for omitting material on other aspects of culture he is scarcely equipped to handle, anyway. Political developments and military engagements are discussed in full detail, with a survey of the geographical terrain, sketches of the motivation, war aims and strategy of the respective players and so forth. Once in a lifetime one ought to rehearse a connected narrative of individual historical events at a granular level and learn to know the names of the principal actors (the same applies to Roman history). Who were Solon, Lycurgus, Draco, Pericles, Isocrates and so on? Later on, one can indeed familiarize oneself with the plays of Aeschylus and Sophocles, visit a museum and inspect a Cycladic figurine, an archaic torso or a painted amphora etc. and begin to ponder what it all means, but without a sturdy framework of what actually happened and when into which to fit one’s reflections, one will be as if lost at sea and condemned to superficiality. One fears most everyone these days finds himself in the latter position, bewildered and unable to comprehend the past beyond a handful of clichés.
Back in the day, of course, one would not have needed a textbook such as Bury’s at all as one would have been expected to do for oneself what he does for us, by reading through and assimilating all the extant primary sources in the original Greek and Latin. But everyone knows that educational standards decline with time and that the humanistic curriculum has to be abolished for the sake of egalitarianism. At least, at Princeton during this reviewer’s tenure there we read Herodotus and Thucydides in English translation; one doubts whether anyone in the current crop of freshmen does even this much. So keep a dusty copy of Bury on one’s bookshelf as a reminder of a bygone, more civilized era!