An enthusiastic review of Christopher Pelling’s commentary on Plutarch’s Life of Caesar concluded with the hope that he would next embark on a full-scale history of Caesar and his times.[1] Instead he turned back to Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, Caesar’s parallel in the Lives and a recurrent interest of Pelling’s own dating back to 1969 (v). This loss to the Caesarians is a huge gain for historians of Alexander and even more for Plutarch scholars, who now possess two magnificent commentaries, totaling more than a thousand pages, for the longest pair out of Plutarch’s Lives. These commentaries apply on a grand scale Pelling’s judicious and insightful approach to Plutarch, best known from his commentary on the Life of Antony (1988) and the series of articles collected in Plutarch and History (2002).[2] But Pelling does not at all shrink from strictly historical topics and analyses, making these essential resources for historians of either of these towering figures. Pelling’s commentary on Plutarch’s Alexander contains a sixty-four-page introduction, an English translation, and three hundred and seventy-five pages of commentary keyed to the translation. The bibliography fills forty-five pages in small font and contains, I estimate, about twelve hundred items, yet another indication of Pelling’s breathtaking knowledge and erudition.
Pelling’s introduction succeeds in providing basic information about Plutarch while focusing on the Alexander and the many issues crucial to understanding it. Here I can only discuss four main topics. First, the Alexander begins with—and lives up to—a famous statement of Plutarch’s goals: in Pelling’s translation, “It is not histories that we are writing but Lives, nor is it always the most brilliant actions that reveal a person’s good or bad qualities; often it is a small thing or a word or a playful moment that gives a clearer insight into a character than engagements where thousands die or the greatest of pitched battles or the sieges of cities”(65; Alexander 1.2). In terms of character, Pelling detects a “coarsening” over the course of the Life. For example, the relationships between Alexander, his friends, and the army are “initially so warm and trusting but eventually full of suspicion and terror” (9). Pelling also insists on the relevance of Plutarch’s moral aims: “We may not ever be Alexanders, but we too have our rages and our ambitions, and many of us have enjoyed a conversational drink or so too many; the ‘mirror’ may distort or enlarge but it still reflects” (10).
Second, Plutarch cites an extraordinary variety of sources in the Alexander and knew much more than he included. Given this abundance of material, the question of “What the Life Leaves Out” merits its section of the introduction and reappears throughout the commentary. Some omissions can be explained by Plutarch’s program of writing a Life, not history. Others make Alexander a more sympathetic character, in line with Plutarch’s usual charity when it comes to the subject of his Lives: for example, he skips stories about Alexander’s sex life that he treats in his Dialogue on Love and the Sayings of Kings and Commanders (31). The case of Alexander’s drunkenness provides a fascinating twist. Plutarch’s Alexander provides an explicit excuse for Alexander’s long drinking sessions (23.1-2), the very excuse that is decisively rejected in Plutarch’s Table Talk (1.6, 623d-e). In the end, however, the Alexander itself depicts the episodes and results of Alexander’s hard drinking as it traces the “coarsening” of his character. Here we see a case of what Pelling calls “progressive redefinition,” where Plutarch complicates an initially straightforward judgment (8, 32).
Third, the basic structure of the Alexander goes from birth to death, but Plutarch tinkers with chronology for the sake of simplicity, coherence, and dramatic effect. So Pelling applies to the Alexander the influential concepts he developed already in 1980.[3] He finds examples of alteration of sequence and chronological dislocation, chronological compression, transfer of actions from one character or place to another, the creation of a context for an unanchored story, and imaginative reconstruction. Given all this spin, was Plutarch willing “to sacrifice truth, or what he took to be the truth, in the interest of telling the story he wanted to tell and showing the character he wanted to depict?” (41) Pelling’s conclusion is properly restrained and balanced: “None of these is particularly surprising or alarming, and it is important to stress their limits” (42)—in contrast to his judgment about the distortions in Plutarch’s On Alexander’s Fortune (35-40, 42).
Fourth, a long section considers Plutarch’s methods and his sources. For the Alexander, Plutarch used many sources and probably depended on his memory to a great extent. Pelling is reluctant to try to ascribe passages to one or another lost ancient source. This reviewer was not disappointed by this, especially considering what Pelling does provide: he discusses all cited sources in the introduction and commentary (45-57 and passim); the commentary cites and discusses parallel accounts in other extant sources especially when there is a discrepancy—which is often.
The introduction also includes brief discussions of intertextuality (26-27) and the impact of recent Roman history on Plutarch’s presentation of Alexander (61-4). And the Alexander/Caesar is one of the pairs that does not conclude with an explicit comparison of the two Lives—unless this has been lost (11-12). Nevertheless, paired Lives are designed to be read together and compared; given his commentary on the Caesar, Pelling is outstandingly well qualified to do this, not only in the introduction but throughout the commentary.
In his translation, Pelling tends to preserve Plutarch’s pleonasm, especially his frequent use of near synonyms, but he breaks up many of Plutarch’s long sentences. In this, his translation is similar to those of Ian Scott Kilvert (1973) and Robin Waterfield (1998), although, of course, Pelling diverges from them on various minor or stylistic points.[4] In two places, Pelling uses transliteration to help the reader understand Plutarch’s meaning: an etymology explaining thrēskeuein as “to act Thracian” (2.8) and the famous case where the priest of Ammon addressed Alexander as paidios/pai Dios instead of paidion (27.9). I would have liked more transliteration, at least in the commentary. For example, Plutarch describes Bagoas as Alexander’s erōmenos, a word whose unfamiliar meaning is not well caught by Pelling’s “boyfriend” (67.7) and does not receive a comment. Waterfield translates with “beloved” and Scott-Kilvert with “favourite.” These old-fashioned expressions better suggest the asymmetry of erastēs/erōmenos. Νο transliteration or explanation is provided for “scumbag” (kakē kephalē) though Pelling notes that Alexander uses this “same vulgar term” twice (9.8, 51.1 with pages 170, 367). These quibbles notwithstanding, the translation reads smoothly and sticks close to the Greek, a key desideratum given that the commentary is keyed to the translation.
The commentary section is detailed, insightful, and well informed; it will probably be the most valuable part of the book. In the Preface (vi-vii), Pelling lays out his five main principles. First, he emphasizes that his topic is Plutarch’s Alexander and not the historical life of Alexander. Nonetheless, Pelling provides concise historical discussions of myriad and various topics throughout the commentary, and these are accompanied by ample references to further bibliography. The second is his cautious approach to source criticism mentioned above. Third, Pelling devotes considerable attention to Plutarch’s choice about what to include. After decades as an eminent Plutarch scholar, Pelling is admirably equipped to detect Plutarch’s selectivity and to offer explanations in many cases. This connects with Pelling’s fourth goal, to emphasize the narrative techniques by which Plutarch paints his picture of Alexander, also discussed above. Fifth, Pelling announces a skeptical view about how much we know about Alexander’s real story: “even more of that story is legend—probably ‘always already’ legend, even in Alexander’s lifetime—than is often realised” (vii). This may overstate his actual tendencies. Highly skeptical views of Alexander’s story have been with us a long time, and Pelling takes a middle position in the spectrum of scholarly opinion more often than he pushes hard in a skeptical direction.
Two episodes illustrate the emphases and attention to detail of Pelling’s commentary. Plutarch devotes one chapter (16), a bit less than a page and a half in the English translation, to the battle of the Granicus; Pelling’s commentary runs a bit over eight pages (201-209). Despite his goal of focusing on Plutarch rather than Alexander, Pelling does not scrimp on military history: the composition of the armies, location of the battle, the banks, the water flow, a modern experiment crossing the river and going up the banks on a “mediocre horse,” the position of the Persian cavalry at or above the bank, the longer spears that gave the Macedonians an advantage (not mentioned by Plutarch), prosopography of the Persian and Macedonian officers mentioned, the inaccuracy of the casualty figures (especially Persian losses), and the fate of the Greek mercenaries. He discusses the discrepancies between the extant ancient accounts and even delves into source criticism, prompted by Plutarch’s explicit citation of Aristobulus (207 on 16.15). In one place he mentions a textual issue: the emendation of apobasin to anabasin (203 on 16.2). In line with his stated goals, Pelling focuses on how Plutarch shapes his narrative: he suggests that Plutarch, alone of our sources, relates that Cleitus “ran . . . through” an enemy to foreshadow the later episode when Alexander “ran Cleitus through” (206 on 16.11). So, too, this battle narrative adumbrates Alexander’s subsequent military career in crucial ways (201); Parmenio’s role as a cautious foil for Alexander’s decisive boldness also has its start here (203 on 16.3).
Pelling devotes eleven pages of commentary to the Philotas affair (350-361), which takes up two chapters in Plutarch’s Alexander (48-49), about two pages in the English translation. His introduction to this section emphasizes its role in the structure of the Life: it is the “first of three ‘grand scenes’ tracking the deterioration of Alexander’s relations with his court and, it seems, of his character” (350). Pelling sketches out the themes—Alexander’s suspiciousness, contention among his officers, and discontent with his adoption of Persian customs—that connect the Philotas affair with the death of Cleitus and the Pages’ Conspiracy as well as the overall theme of “coarsening.” But he also summarizes the lively historical controversy about Philotas and compares the different ancient accounts. His introduction ends with a paragraph pointing readers to further scholarly discussions, twenty-two of them. The line-by-line commentary discusses a wide variety of issues: an inconsistency with Alexander’s Fortune about the birth city of the informer Antigone; Plutarch’s use of the word gunaion here and elsewhere; his familiarity with “the ways of suspicious [Roman] emperors” (355); a text-critical explanation of “Limnus” in the manuscript where the real name was Dimnus/Dymnus—laid out clearly enough for readers without Greek; many detailed contrasts between Plutarch’s account and the other narratives; and Plutarch’s creative adaptation of his sources, for example, his “fabricating a context” (354, 357) . Here, as throughout, Pelling does not shrink from expressing disagreement with previous scholarship. Sometimes he gives his reasons: for example, a source-critical argument that Themistius Orations 19.229d does not provide evidence independent of Plutarch (353). Sometimes he just registers his own judgement (twice on 355), which, even by itself, ought to make future researchers pause and think hard before taking the opposite position.
Pelling’s writing style is lively and occasionally amusing; the commentary notes are necessarily sometimes dense, but Pelling is always thoughtful, clear, and precise. Scholars have been well served by J. R. Hamilton’s commentary on the Alexander, but that was first published in 1969, more than fifty years ago.[5] Pelling’s commentary takes full account of the enormous scholarly advances in Alexander and Plutarch scholarship since then. It is about one and half times the length of Hamilton’s work even though Pelling does not discuss the Greek or the details of textual criticism, two areas that Hamilton covers and for which he remains key. But for most other issues, Pelling’s superb commentary will be an essential and stimulating reference for students and scholars of Plutarch and of Alexander for decades to come.
Notes
[1] Gerhard Dobesch in Gnomon 88 (2016) 506.
[2] Christopher Pelling, Plutarch: Life of Anthony. Cambridge University Press, 1988; and Plutarch and History: eighteen studies. Classical Press of Wales and Duckworth, 2002.
[3] Christopher Pelling, “Plutarch’s Adaptation of his Source-material,” in Plutarch and History: eighteen studies (Classical Press of Wales and Duckworth, 2002, orig. 1980) 91-115 and Plutarch: Life of Antony, (Cambridge University Press, 1989) 33-36. Influence: e.g., Christoph Konrad, Plutarch’s Sertorius. a historical commentary (University of North Carolina Press, 1994) xxxix-xli.
[4] Plutarch, Age of Alexander. Trans. Ian Scott Kilvert. Penguin Classics, orig. 1973; and Plutarch, Greek Lives. Trans. Robin Waterfield. Oxford World’s Classics, 1998.
[5] J. R. Hamilton, Plutarch: Alexander. 2nd edition with forward and bibliography by Philip Stadter. Bristol Classical Press, 1999, orig. 1969.