INTRODUCTION
This article examines Herodian's History of the Roman Empire, written around the middle of the third century, alongside Chariton's Callirhoe, a novel written sometime in the middle of the first century or a little before, with an eye to how the minds of collective entities are represented and function in the two narratives. Although Cohn has argued that the portrayal of the mental workings of a person other than the speaker in narrative constitutes a ‘signpost of fictionality’ that sets fictional narratives apart from non-fictional ones,Footnote 1 in recent years it has become clear that the mental functioning of characters and their collective thought play a significant role in both fictional and factual narratives. Not only novelists but also historians are interested in making transparent what is going on in people's heads as though they are in full possession of their ‘experientiality’.Footnote 2
As far as ancient literature is concerned, Grethlein has shown that in Thucydides’ History and Heliodorus’ novel Aethiopica the representation of collective minds comes in handy for both authors and makes their narrative ‘experiential’ by restoring presence to the past.Footnote 3 In this study, therefore, I take it for granted that (i) ancient Greek historiography and the ancient Greek novel do not easily fit into any sort of fictional vs factual division; (ii) historians in antiquity accommodate the modes and themes of fictional writing, while novelists can use historiographical commonplaces;Footnote 4 and (iii) collective minds figure prominently in both fictional and factual ancient narratives. Nevertheless, two crucial questions are raised by this set of ideas: do historians and novelists employ the same narrative techniques to (re)construct the mental life of their characters? And to what ends do such mental (re)constructions are put, especially in relation to other core parameters of narrative such as character, focalization, or even action? This comparative study feeds into ongoing narratological discourse concerning what Fludernik has conceived as ‘a poetics of factual narration’.Footnote 5
Herodian's History and Chariton's Callirhoe serve as two very apt case studies of the nexus between fictionality/factuality and narrative minds. Herodian's historical work has often been labeled as ‘novel’ or ‘historical novel’,Footnote 6 and an examination of its narrative technique along that of the ancient Greek novel can further enlighten whether or not there is any kind of relationship between Herodian's historiography and the novelistic tradition.Footnote 7 Of equal relevance is that Chariton's Callirhoe has been characterized by modern critics as a ‘historical novel’ that shows several connections with history—the action of the novel is actually set against a historical background—and historiography.Footnote 8
The main thrust of my comparative approach derives from Palmer's emphasis on social minds and shared forms of cognition in narrative texts. Palmer devoted a series of essaysFootnote 9 and two monographs on the Victorian novelFootnote 10 to the construction of fictional minds within a storyworld, the interaction between these minds and the formation of an intermental mind and groups in narratives. He paid particular attention to two main ideas. The first is the idea of ‘intermentality’, meaning the connection and relation between two or more minds in a narrative which results in the formation of a collective that has a single consciousness and a single mental functioning. According to Palmer, ‘an important part of the social mind is our capacity for intermental thought. Such thinking is joint, group, shared, or collective, as opposed to intramental, or individual or private thought […]. Intermental thought is a crucially important component of fictional narrative because, just as in real life, where much of our thinking is done in groups, much of the mental functioning that occurs in novels is done by large organizations, small groups, work colleagues, friends, families, couples, and other intermental units’.Footnote 11 Secondly, Palmer underlines the idea of an ‘external’ depiction of consciousness which seeks to understand characters’ construction not from the internal states of their minds but the external manifestations of their thoughts and emotions in their speech, behaviour, appearance, or even actions.Footnote 12
Since Palmer's publications, a good deal of illuminating work has been done on the depiction and function of collective consciousness in narrative texts.Footnote 13 But, still, as Fludernik has shrewdly noticed, a poetics of the collective in narrative is missing.Footnote 14 The present article builds on this observation and contributes towards filling this gap. The discussion falls into four sections. The first section examines the techniques that Chariton and Herodian employ to represent the states and activities of group consciousness (I). The second considers the function of collective minds in the plots of the two works as agents or simply as dramatic constructions (II). In the third section, I turn to the different ways in which the two authors are preoccupied with the dynamics of, and within, group minds (III). Finally, the fourth section draws the main threads of the analysis together and offers some conclusions on the similarities and differences of consciousness representation in Herodian's History and Chariton's novel, and accordingly the complex relationship between the fictional or factual status of narratives and their representation of collective thought (IV). The juxtaposition of the two works in terms of their construction and use of group minds provides a new angle for exploring the relationship between fictional and factual narratives in antiquity, which has been a recent topic of interest for both classicistsFootnote 15 and literary theorists.Footnote 16
I. RECONSTRUCTING COLLECTIVE MINDS: HOW?
Herodian is fond of depicting the mental workings of groups, particularly those of the people, the Senate and the army, which often appear as unitary entities that act, feel, decide, believe and judge together.Footnote 17 Herodian employs a wide array of narrative techniques to illuminate their inner lives. For example, he openly describes their emotions, ideas, behaviour or reactions towards specific people and situations,Footnote 18 often combined with details about their actions.Footnote 19 He makes references to their thoughtsFootnote 20 and gives indirect reports of their words.Footnote 21 At times he makes use of free indirect speech, which blends the subjectivity of the collective character with the voice of the narrator.Footnote 22 He conveys, in addition, what other people thought about the mind of a group,Footnote 23 and he focusses on specific individuals who act as spokesmen of the communal mind.Footnote 24
Herodian's reader is also invited to infer the state of the mind of a specific group from its appearance. For example, the soldiers ‘put on full armour and formed in closed battle order’ after Julianus’ accession, because they should protect the new emperor by fighting if it was necessary (2.6.12–13). The Praetorians abandon their arms, wear their ceremonial clothes and bear wreaths of laurels because they believed that Severus would truly accept them as his guard (2.13.2).Footnote 25 Especially striking are those moments of discrepancy between how groups appear or behave and what they actually think. The soldiers who fought next to Maximinus against the Aquileians ‘were dressed for peace and carried laurel branches’ in order to welcome Maximus in Aquileia, but Herodian makes clear that ‘not all of them acted from genuine feeling, but they pretended to show their loyalty and to honour the emperor’, since they were extremely angry that Maximinus died, while the senatorial emperors were in power (8.7.2–3).
Chariton's techniques of presenting the states and activities of the minds of collectives overlap to a substantial degree with those of Herodian.Footnote 26 However, there are two aspects of Chariton's narratology that are peculiar to him and his novelistic writing. First, he elaborates on the varieties of emotions experienced by a specific group. For example, at the extraordinary news that Callirhoe was alive, ‘everyone quickly assembled on the seashore, and every kind of emotion was expressed at the same time: people wept, marveled, inquired and disbelieved, astounded at the strange tale’ (3.4.1).Footnote 27 Here we may compare Chariton's delineation of the people's reactions at the moment of Chaereas’ departure from Sicily (3.5.3). Such elaborate descriptions of collective experience, which pertain to individual experience in Chariton's novel as well,Footnote 28 do not occur in Herodian's History, and they should be associated with the fictional sensationalism and dramatic character of the work.Footnote 29
This aspect of Chariton's work is reinforced by his preference of attributing direct speech to collective characters. The people cry in the assembly in favour of the marriage between Chaereas and Callirhoe: ‘Excellent Hermocrates, mighty leader, save Chaereas’ (1.1.11). The Syracusan women are amazed with Callirhoe's beauty and shout: ‘Aphrodite is the bride’ (3.2.17). The crowd in Miletus prompts Chaereas to tell them what happened with Callirhoe's tomb: ‘Courage, speak’ (3.4.5). There are multiple other examples of shorter or longer utterances of collectives in Chariton's novel, which are given in direct speech.Footnote 30 Herodian could have easily used this technique of representing collective minds, following the example of other historians, such as Herodotus (7.168.3; 9.26.1)Footnote 31 or Cassius Dio (73[72].18.2; 74[73].2.1–4).Footnote 32 But with the exception of the speech of the sycophants to Commodus (1.6.2),Footnote 33 Herodian favours indirect or free indirect speech, or even resorts to other mind-revealing techniques, such as descriptions of external appearance, which Chariton avoids.Footnote 34 Herodian is generally reluctant to attribute direct speech to speakers ‘who are neither members of the elite nor political power-brokers’,Footnote 35 and even among the emperors and pretenders, not all of them get to deliver direct discourse in Herodian. The use of direct speech mirrors ‘the quality of the people who are running the empire’, while the ‘lack of oratorical output reflects on their fitful political competence’.Footnote 36 Thus, Herodian's reluctance to include speeches delivered by collective groups might have an evaluating force, reflecting on the quality and political capacity of the collectives themselves. Chariton's predilection for allotting direct speech to collectives, on the other hand, leads him to depict moments of high emotion and make his narrative more lively, dramatic and engaging at crucial junctures.Footnote 37 We shall look at this point and more generally at the role of collectives as actants (political and social) or simply as aesthetic tools in the next section.
II. GROUPS AS AGENTS?
Group minds appear at major turning points in the plot of Chariton's novel and serve to signpost the narrative.Footnote 38 They can be seen as a spectrum ranging from active participation in the plot (just as that of individual actors) to a kind of participation that mainly amounts to verbal or emotional responses to dramatic events or admirable qualities of the two protagonists. On the role of groups as narrative agents, we may recall, for example, that the Syracusan dêmos, swayed by Love,Footnote 39 petitions for the marriage of Chaereas and Callirhoe, and Hermocrates gives his consent (1.1.11–13). They also approve Hermocrates’ proposal to send a mission for Callirhoe in order to recover her (3.4.16–17; cf. 4.3.3; 4.4.7). And, at the end, using a language which evokes honorific inscriptions,Footnote 40 they acclaim the proposal of honours suggested by Chaereas for his friend Polycharmus and the band of thirty men who fought next to Chaereas (8.8.12–14). Hermocrates in his final speech to Chaereas foregrounds the prominent role of the city in the course of events (8.7.4–8).Footnote 41
In most of the cases where Chariton depicts the minds of groups, however, the emotional and cognitive reactions of collectives do not determine the teleology of the plot, but either call attention to a crucial characteristic of a hero (especially the beauty of Callirhoe and the andreia of Chaereas)Footnote 42 or dramatize a specific event in the story with particular intensity. On many occasions, the reaction of the group mirrors and even reinforces the similar reaction or behaviour of the individual.Footnote 43 For example, when it is discovered that Callirhoe's tomb is empty, ‘all were baffled, and one of those inside said, “the funeral offerings have been stolen! This is the work of tomb robbers. But where is the corpse?”’. Chariton then underlines that ‘many different speculations were entertained by the crowd’ (3.3.4). Both the individual and the group experience astonishment and wonder at this striking event. The same effect occurs in Chariton's stress on lamentation, pity or tears of a specific group, which reflect and enhance the distress of a particular character or a situation.Footnote 44 After Chaereas’ distressing speech of self-conviction about Callirhoe's (supposed) death, ‘a cry of grief broke forth and everyone forgot the dead woman and mourned the living man’ (1.5.6).Footnote 45
Chariton, as noted above, often delineates the conflicting or multiple feelings of a group towards an extraordinary situation. Such powerful descriptions do not serve to influence or carry forward the action of the novel, but simply to enhance the emotional and mental engagement of the reader with it. One might consider Chariton's depiction of the reaction of onlookers towards Chaereas’ departure from Sicily: ‘When the appointed day for departure arrived, the people flocked to the harbour, not only men but also women and children, and there simultaneously occurred tears and prayers, moaning and encouragement, terror and courage, resignation and hope’ (3.5.3). The mood of those who listen to Polycharmus’ speech to Mithridates about Callirhoe and Chaereas ‘turned full circle: anger changed to pity, and Mithridates was more moved than the rest’ (4.2.14).
Although detailed descriptions of group minds in Chariton's novel do not affect plot development in general, they contribute towards retarding it, thus keeping the readers in suspense.Footnote 46 One might consider, as an example, Chariton's narrative of the arrival of Chaereas and Callirhoe in Syracuse: ‘When it dropped anchor, the whole harbour was full of people. Now crowds are naturally curious, and on this occasion they had many reasons for gathering. On seeing the tent, they thought it contained not people but some valuable cargo, and they made various guesses, suggesting everything except the truth. Indeed, now that they were convinced that Chaereas was dead, it passed belief that he could be sailing home alive and amid such magnificence’ (8.6.5–7). A detailed report of the people's ignorance in Sicily suspends the action, enhances suspense and thereby helps the reader to become more immersed into the story. It is true that the reader already knows who are the people arriving in Sicily, so (s)he cannot share the anxiety of the group. But, still, the reader does not know how the people on shore will react and how the events will develop.Footnote 47 In fact, the dissonance between the ignorance of internal audience and the knowledge of external audience draws all the more sharply into relief the surprise which the former experience upon the revelation of the identity of the people on board: ‘All were puzzled and straining their eyes when suddenly the tapestries were drawn aside […]. Never did anyone who had discovered a treasure of gold shout so loudly as the crowd did then at this unexpected sight too marvellous for words’ (8.6.7).
In Herodian's historiography, unlike Chariton's novel, the portrayal of the workings of the various group minds is closely linked with the narration of the action. The thoughts, feelings and motives of collective entities are presented as shaping deliberation and agency, thus having a profound effect on the lives of the emperors, and so on the plot of the work. Indeed, pivotal events in the story, such as the accession of an emperor to the throne,Footnote 48 the adventus (or return) of the emperor(s) in Rome,Footnote 49 the decisions regarding removal of emperors from officeFootnote 50 and their killingFootnote 51 tend to be foregrounded through their presentation as a collective experience.Footnote 52 Even in those cases where group minds draw attention to a particular characteristic of an individual—we may remember, for example, the admiration felt by the Romans and the soldiers in Syria for the noble origins and beauty of Commodus and Elagabalus respectively (1.7.5; 5.3.8; 5.4.1–2)—the depiction of their emotional and mental states goes hand in hand with the development of the plot. The enthusiasm of these groups contributes towards the acceptance of Commodus and Elagabalus as new emperors (1.7.6; 5.3.11–12). It also contrasts with the disgust that the same groups feel later at the emperors’ abominable appearance and public conduct (1.15.7; 5.8.1–2), which eventually lead to the emperors’ downfall.
I do not mean to suggest here that Herodian's use of group minds as plot motivators undermines the engaged and affective response that he elicits from his readers at crucial moments of his narrative. But Herodian goes further than simply using group minds for dramatic effect. A brief comparison between two scenes in Herodian and Chariton drives the point home. Herodian relates how Severus Alexander and the onlookers in Rome reacted during his departure for the war against the Persians (6.4.2):
Escorted by the Senate and all the people, Alexander set out from Rome, continually looking back to the city with tears in his eyes. Not one of even the ordinary people in the procession was without tears either. Brought up under their eyes and after so many years of fair rule, he had made himself loved by the people.
This scene brings to mind Chariton's narrative of Chaereas’ departure from Sicily. At that moment, as we saw earlier, ‘the people flocked to the harbour […], and there simultaneously occurred tears and prayers, moaning and encouragement, terror and courage, resignation and hope’ (3.5.3).
Both scenes in Herodian and Chariton evoke the reactions of the onlookers to the departure of the Athenians for Sicily as described by Thucydides (6.30).Footnote 53 However, the purposes and the final effects of the two scenes are different. Chaereas, unlike Severus Alexander (and the Athenians in Thucydides’ text), will succeed in his expedition. Moreover, the perspective of bystanders in Herodian's story is artfully used to flesh out Alexander's distinctive characteristic of quietness and aversion to military action, which is directly associated with his flawed military conduct and eventual downfall. In Chariton's novel the bystanders’ reaction does not spell out any characteristics of Chaereas that are functional in developing the plot. Chariton has the people simply express their emotions towards the situation, without giving any details about what exactly provoked the specific emotional response. In Thucydides, on the contrary, the contrasting feelings and thoughts of the internal audience—they were full of hope that they would conquer Sicily and equally full of lamentation that they might never see their friends again, considering the dangers of the expedition and the long voyage, despite their earlier voting for it; but they had courage again at the sight of their strength (6.30.2)—serve as a prompt to reflect not only on how the expedition was conceived but on several inauspicious consequences of it as well. As Hornblower says, ‘there are several sinister hints of future disaster in the present ostensibly joyful narrative of the send-off of the doomed fleet’.Footnote 54
Hence in both Herodian and Thucydides, collective minds are not an end in itself, but are associated with the advancement of the plot and thus become a useful means of historical analysis. On the contrary, in Chariton's novel they primarily serve to establish a narrative background and dramatize events. There are some exceptions, as we saw, in Chariton where groups appear to be agents. But again these are exceptions that prove the rule, since groups assume a more active role only in settings, such as an assembly, which are intrinsic to political life and historical reality.Footnote 55
III. DYNAMICS OF GROUP MINDS
Herodian's use of group minds as a useful tool of historical interpretation is clearly shown by the way in which he traces the various relationships between them. Collective entities are often in agreement with each other and therefore produce a consensus view on a specific topic. For example, the narrative of the posthumous reactions to Marcus Aurelius’ death:
When the report of his death was known, the whole army that was with him and the common people alike mourned for him. There was not a single subject throughout the Roman Empire that did not grieve at the news and join together as if they had one voice (ὥσπερ ἐκ μιᾶς φωνῆς) to proclaim his praise. Some praised his kindness as a father, some his goodness as an emperor, others his noble qualities as a general, still others his moderation and discipline as a ruler. And everyone was telling the truth (1.4.8).
Two points are particularly noticeable here. First, the unanimous viewpoints of contemporaries are outlined to highlight and neatly recapitulate the most creditable features of Marcus’ character and rule.Footnote 56 Second, this striking union of the different groups reflects the eunoia and pothos that Marcus instilled in the hearts of his subjects, thus exemplifying his avowed leadership statements so far (cf. 1.4.4–5) and highlighting the lack of any gulf between Marcus’ words/theory and practice.Footnote 57 It also powerfully indicates his exceptional ability to control the different collective forces within Roman society and to conduct (using the words of Aelius Aristides) the empire in harmonious song as a chorus.Footnote 58 Crucially, other moments of agreement between different groups in Herodian's History are only temporary and often based on assumptions that prove to be untrue (cf. 1.7.1–4 on Commodus’ accession; 6.1.2 on Severus Alexander's accession). It is notable that Cassius Dio, one of Herodian's main sources,Footnote 59 reconsiders Marcus’ qualities after his death through explicit narratorial commentary (72[71].34–6). Herodian, however, prefers to foreground the perspective of contemporaries here. This narrative choice allows him to emphasize not only the individual personality and shrewd leadership of the emperor but also his distinctive interaction with potentially destructive social units. This is a crucial theme in Herodian's analysis of the post-Marcus period,Footnote 60 and one which Herodian's treatment of group minds is especially concerned to illuminate and examine further.
Rather than agreement between different groups, Herodian often details contrast and separation. Almost everyone, for example, loves and honours Pertinax (2.2.9–10; 2.4.1–3), but the Praetorians are annoyed with him, for his regime was detrimental to their own unlimited power (2.4.4–5; 2.5.1), and thus they decide to kill him (2.5.8–9). On the other hand, the soldiers are won over by bribes and support (at least initially) Didius Julianus, while the people scorn him (2.6.11–14).Footnote 61 The soldiers in Syria admire Elagabalus’ noble origins and exceptional beauty (5.3.8–10), and decide to appoint him emperor. The Senate and the people, however, are annoyed with this decision (5.5.2). Similar patterns can be noticed in the reign of the emperor Maximinus,Footnote 62 while in the time of Maximus and Balbinus Herodian makes clear that the soldiers are vexed with them, dislike the people's approbation of the two emperors and hate the fact that they are ruled by two men chosen by the Senate (8.8.1). In all of these instances, Herodian's depiction of the opposing minds of collectives serves to characterize the collectives themselves (cf. Herodian's explicit commentary on the corrupt character of the soldiers at 2.6.14) and the individual emperors, their virtues (Pertinax; Maximus and Balbinus) or vices (Julianus; Elagabalus; Maximinus). In addition, it helps to articulate and further elucidate the turbulent and chaotic post-Marcus world, thus establishing a framework in terms of which the reader can explain why virtuous emperors, such as Pertinax or Maximus and Balbinus, suffer ignominy after failing to realize Marcus’ ideal of consensus universorum, while bad or cruel individuals, like Julianus and Maximinus, ascend to the throne.
Herodian's delineation of shifting group mindsets has a similar effect. For example, the Roman people love Commodus (1.7.1–4; 1.13.7), but then dislike him (1.14.7; 1.15.7; 2.2.3–5);Footnote 63 the soldiers favour Didius Julianus (2.6.8–11), but, after they are deceived by him, they contempt and insult him (2.7.2–3). The Roman people call for Niger's help (2.7.5), but then they accuse him of his negligent delay (2.12.2). Initially, the soldiers reject Caracalla's briberies to kill Geta out of respect for Septimius Severus and both brothers (3.15.5), but soon, after Geta's murder, they are swayed by Caracalla's donatives, proclaim him sole emperor and declare Geta a public enemy (4.4.8). Likewise, they turn favourably towards Severus Alexander because of his modest and serious education (5.8.2), but later they are furious with him because of his cowardly idleness on campaign (6.6.1–2; cf. 6.7.3; 6.7.9–10). The shifting minds in Herodian's History invite the readers to engage with the discrepancies at stake and actively weigh up the opposed strands into their own interpretation and evaluation of the character of collectives and individuals.Footnote 64 They also expose the reader to the atmosphere of uncertainty and instability that predominated after the death of Marcus Aurelius.
A group in Herodian's History not only changes its mind, but is often split into various subgroups that appear to be in agreement. A fine example of this occurs in Herodian's explanation of the soldiers’ reluctance to fight for Severus Alexander: ‘Some of them demanded the execution of the military prefect and Alexander's household on the grounds that they had been responsible for the retreat. Others criticized his mother's rapacity and miserliness over money […]. Thus the soldiers remained where they were for some time shouting out different complaints’ (6.9.4–5). The minds of the subgroups work together to foster collective blame and illuminate the multiple reasons behind it. In some instances, however, subgroups tend to be distinct from, and even opposed to, each other. One might consider, for example, Herodian's description of how the soldiers reacted to Pertinax's last speech. The speech influenced some of them, since ‘several of the soldiers turned round and went back out of respect for the age of the respected emperor’. The text continues that the remaining soldiers fell upon Pertinax and killed him (2.5.8). Similarly, we might compare the opposing attitudes of Maximinus’ soldiers after the death of their emperor. Not all of them were happy about this and accordingly ‘did not act from genuine feeling’ in celebrating peace with the Aquileians. Rather, they ‘pretended to show their loyalty and to honour’ the new emperor Maximus out of necessity (8.7.2). ‘The majority were resentful and privately angry’ that the senatorial emperors were now in power (8.7.3). Split minds in Herodian's History, just like opposing and shifting minds, draw attention to critical moments of social conflict and crisis. Indeed, Pertinax and Severus Alexander are murdered, while Maximinus’ soldiers kill the senatorial emperors Maximus and Balbinus. An important point to notice, nevertheless, is that the fragmentation of views within groups in Herodian's world is only temporary and does not disrupt the power and authority of the group in question. Groups in Herodian's post-Marcus history do not disintegrate to the extent that disunity weakens their force and disperses their energies in different directions. They remain strong throughout and retain their power to exercise great and potentially threatening pressure on the world of the empire.
Comparison with Chariton's treatment of the various dynamics of group minds offers further insights into the narrative methods of both authors. Sometimes different groups in Chariton's story appear to be in agreement. For instance, in an assembly meeting in Miletus ‘not a single one could withstand her (that is, Callirhoe's) dazzling beauty. Some turned their heads away as though the sun's rays shone into their eyes, and others actually knelt in homage; even children were affected’ (4.1.9).Footnote 65 Compare also Chariton's description of the arrival of Chaereas and Callirhoe in Syracuse: ‘The voices of those from the sea hailing the people on shore were blended with these welcoming the arrivals from the sea; both exchanged endless blessings, cheers and prayers with each other […]. Clubmates and fellow athletes jostled with each other in their eagerness to welcome Chaereas, as the women to welcome Callirhoe’ (8.6.10–11). In both instances, the consensus between different groups reinforces the praise bestowed upon the characters and reveals the reasons behind it. We may recall Herodian's posthumous praise of Marcus Aurelius through the eyes of his contemporaries, although in Herodian's History this consensus has been of crucial importance for the success of the empire and the progression of history.
Similar things might be said about Chariton's treatment of subgroups, which stand in agreement with each other. After the return of Chaereas and Callirhoe to Syracuse, we are told that ‘with a single voice the crowd shouted, “Let us go to the assembly!’” and that ‘the theatre was filled with men and women’ (8.7.1). Chariton continues to relate that ‘when Chaereas entered by himself, all clamoured, women as well as men, “Bring along Callirhoe!”. In this too Hermocrates gave in to the people and brought in his daughter as well. First of all the people lifted their eyes to heaven and blessed the gods, being more thankful for that day than for the one of their victory. Then, they first divided, with the men cheering Chaereas and the women Callirhoe, next united again to cheer them both together; and that pleased the couple more’ (8.7.1–2). Chariton is scrupulous in reflecting how the different voices of the different subunits of the people of Syracuse work both separately and together to highlight the excellence of Chaereas and Callirhoe and the final reunion of the couple. Similar scenes of popular unison occur in the novels of Longus, Xenophon of Ephesus and Heliodorus at similar moments of the action.Footnote 66
What about groups in Chariton's narrative that stand in disagreement with each other? Chariton offers a detailed account of the conflicting minds of the supporters of Chaereas, the supporters of Dionysius and those of men and women in Babylon before the trial (6.1.1–5). Chariton's vivid description—we commented above on his use of direct speech—of the several groups does not simply function as ‘a good reminder to the audience (of) how they should feel at this moment of the plot’,Footnote 67 but help to reconstruct and expose the readers to the atmosphere of courtroom (δικαστήριον, 6.1.5) and uncertainty (μετέωρος, 6.1.1) which predominated in Babylon at the time. Chariton's readers are exposed to different evaluative responses to the heroes of the novel—in some ways the opinions expressed are exaggerated, but quite understandable in this judicial contextFootnote 68—and are primed to reconsider them together with their own understanding of the characters and social positions of individuals. Opposing minds, just as in Herodian's history, are used to reveal the culture of division, turbulence and conflict which pervades the social world. Yet whereas in Herodian these opposing minds play an active role in the narrative progression, in Chariton they simply provide a social context, which suspends the action, heightens suspense and thus highlights the significance of a specific event without having any causal relationship with it.Footnote 69 The same principle holds for split groups in Chariton's novel, in which voices of dissent are sketched (cf. 5.4.1–2 on the divided oriental people before the trial of Dionysius and Mithridates), as well as those group minds that display a complex experience of emotions.Footnote 70
IV. CONCLUSION
Group minds are a particular feature of both Chariton's novel and Herodian's historiography. An analysis of these two works in this respect reveals how the emotional and mental states of groups are represented in the two genres, as well as remarkable differences between them. Chariton, unlike Herodian, elaborates on the diversity of emotions that characterizes a specific collective experience and has groups use direct speech throughout. These choices add vividness to the narrative and intensify the fictional sensationalism and dramatic character of the novel. Closely related to this point is that collectives in Chariton's narrative are primarily designed to highlight a specific characteristic of a hero or dramatize a specific event rather than drive the plot as in Herodian's work. More often than not, the reactions of groups in Chariton are significant because they parallel or reinforce the hero's behaviour, retard the action and enhance suspense. They signpost the narrative structure and draw attention to the importance of the action, but rarely have a bearing on the action itself. In fact, it is noticeable that the rare occasions where group minds function as actors in Chariton's novel concern settings (for example, an assembly) which are intrinsic to socio-political life and historical reality.Footnote 71
A comparative survey of group minds in the ideal novelists other than Chariton reveal similar concerns. Groups are used to draw attention to specific characteristics of individuals, mainly beauty and excellence.Footnote 72 These groups, like in Chariton, may be split into subgroups that stand in concord with each other. One might consider, for example, the narrator's description of the multiple reactions of the Ephesians to the beauty of the novelistic heroine in the tale of Anthia and Habrocomes by Xenophon of Ephesus (1.2.7).Footnote 73 In Longus’ pastoral novel Daphnis and Chloe, groups of animals understandably appear as if they attain experiential capacities, and they serve to excite mental or emotional reactions in the reader and dramatize specific situations. For example, at Dorco's death ‘there was the sound of cattle mooing in pity and the sight of them running in disorder as they mooed’ (1.31.4); and after Chloe's liberation due to Pan's miraculous intervention, ‘the animals formed a circle around Chloe like a chorus, frisking and bleating and looking joyful’ (2.28.3–29.1).Footnote 74
Examples of the same technique in the other extant Greek novels may easily be multiplied, although the focus lies on humans rather than animals. One might remember the famous opening scene of Heliodorus’ Aethiopica (1.1–3), where through the eyes of a band of astounded Egyptian bandits the reader is ‘drawn into a hermeneutic quest to account for what (s)he already knows […]. The narrator knows what the scene on the beach means, but he is not telling. The reader is compelled to share the ignorance of the bandits’.Footnote 75 This quality in its turn endows the narrative with dramatization, affectivity and immediacy.Footnote 76 In Achilles Tatius’ Leucippe and Clitophon, Sopater, the counsel for Thersander, accuses Melite of adultery by emphasising the exposure of her unfaithfulness to the public gaze (8.10.10–11).Footnote 77 He states that ‘all Ephesus knew of her gallant’ (Ἔφεσος ὅλη τὸν μοιχὸν ἔγνωκεν) (8.10.11). Crucially, Ephesus is treated here as a kind of singular human agent with knowledge, to whom Sopater resorts to reinforce his claim. This habit of approaching nations and states as single human agents occurs not only in novelists (cf. Heliodorus),Footnote 78 but in historians as well, such as Thucydides (for example 5.27–83).Footnote 79 Just as in Chariton, moreover, opposing (sub-)groups serve to reflect the turbulent atmosphere of a court without playing any active role in the development of the plot.Footnote 80 This observation does not mean that groups appearing as personified actants that forward the course of the action are missing from the other extant Greek novels. Indeed, there are multiple collective characters—for example, the Nymphs in Longus (2.23.1–5; 3.27.2–5; 4.34.1) or pirates and banditsFootnote 81—who affect the progress of the plot. Like in Chariton's novel, moreover, there are several settings, such as wars, assemblies and courts, in which groups figure prominently as actants who shape deliberation and agency.Footnote 82
That said, the final effects and purposes of such collective agents in the novels mark them as something rather different in character from their presence and function in Herodian. In the novels groups are rather static and ‘flat’ entities, whereas in Herodian they are ‘round’ and dynamic.Footnote 83 To put it otherwise, Herodian, unlike Chariton and the other ideal novelists, is interested in delineating the mental functioning of specific groups over the course of the narrative and tracing how they might change over time or progressively develop complex interactions within and between them, which influence the social world.
I argue above that the portrayal of the workings of group minds in Herodian's historiography, including the relationships between different collective minds, the dynamics of shifting minds or the relation of complementarity and conflict between the parts of a specific collective, goes hand in hand with the evolution of the plot. The perceptual, cognitive and affective operations of collectives are all factors that affect historical events, and thus have a strong explanatory and interpretative value. One might parallel the central activity and crucial characterizing function of the tragic chorus in drama.Footnote 84 Group minds are, in fact, part and parcel of Herodian's historical analysis of contemporary political and social world. Unanimity among different groups alerts the reader to Marcus’ ideal consensus universorum, while opposing, changing or split minds tend to illuminate the atmosphere of fragmentation and disfunctionality in the post-Marcus world. It is notable that internal divisions within groups in Herodian's history are only temporary, thus showing the great pressure that groups exercise on the social world. A capable emperor is required to keep different groups united, uniform and consistent. In both Chariton and Herodian group minds reconstruct a social framework within which the character of an individual and that of a collective can be better understood. However, it is only in Herodian that they have such a prominent causal role in the action and thus an ideological dimension.
This discussion, which started from a question on the relationship between analyses of consciousness and the poetics of fictional and factual narration, ends with a statement about a crucial difference between Chariton's novel and Herodian's historiography. Cohn has stressed that ‘history is more often concerned with collective “mentalities” than with individual minds’.Footnote 85 This point has already been stressed by Langland who noticed, with reference to Joseph Conrad's Nostromo and Anthony Trollope's Barchester Towers, that, when a society switches from a backdrop to the actions of the individuals to a formal protagonist of the novel, then we begin to move away from the novel towards the subject matter of history.Footnote 86 These remarks are true of Chariton's novel and Herodian's historical writing as well. In the latter group minds are patchier and play the role of a protagonist. In the former they mainly remain in the background to dramatically enrich a specific event or character.
In sum, this comparative study of group minds in Herodian and Chariton not only adds to our understanding of the narrative technique and genres of the individual authors, particularly in reference to the complex association of ancient historiography with novelistic writing and vice versa; but it also provides a novel pathway to approach the relationship between fictional and factual narratives in antiquity by showing how collective consciousness might be present in both, but can come in a variety of forms, working to different effects in different ways.
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