Detail the origins, accretion, and subsequent afterlife of the Alexander Romance, examining in
particular its relationship with both Alexander’s actual life as reflected in contemporary and
posthumous historiography, and the rise of the Greek novel
The Alexander Romance is in many respects a sui generis phenomenon in ancient Greek
literature. Neither history nor fiction, it dabbles in both, all while absorbing elements of folklore,
philosophy, and (perhaps most surprisingly) non-Greek cultures across its many recensions. In
the following examination, the tireless labors of Richard Stoneman will loom large as I elucidate
the Romance’s relationships with the historical Alexander and with other Greek genres (such as
the novel and travel writing). My conclusion is that, like Whitman in Song of Myself, the
Romance’s defining characteristic is its protean capaciousness—its poly-generic ability to
contain multitudes.
Some manuscripts of the ß recension of the Greek Romance attribute it to Alexander’s
court historian Callisthenes.1 Leaving aside the lateness and impossibility of the attribution, this
fact provides a useful entrance into the question of the Romance’s overall relationship to
established historical fact. Stoneman speaks of its relative uniqueness among Greek prose
fictions in being written about a historical personage, and of the “temptation to regard it as a kind
of history (bad history, or perhaps an extreme version of ‘tragic history’).”2 For all that, from its
depiction of the Pharaoh Nectanebo as a kind of magician (on which more below) to the
fantastical beasts Alexander’s army battles in India, it is readily apparent that we are not dealing
with sober history in any meaningful sense of the word. That does not, however, dispose of the
text’s relationship with the historical Alexander as neatly as one might think.
Throughout Stoneman’s magnum opus on the Romance, Alexander the Great: a Life in
Legend, the reader encounters surprising convergences between the Alexander of history and the
1
Stoneman (1994).
2
Ibid.
Alexander of legend. In most cases, while the historical implausibility of the Romance’s version
of events is patently obvious, there is nonetheless a factual core discernible beneath the layers of
embellishment. Historically, for example, Nectanebo II was Egypt’s final Pharaoh; when Egypt
was attacked by Persia in 343 BC, he “fled from Egypt to Nubia and was never heard of again.”3
In the Romance, he appears as an “expert magician” who, upon turning up in Philip’s Macedon
after his flight from Egypt, “falls in love with [Alexander’s mother] Queen Olympias, and uses
his cunning, as well as his magic arts, to become her lover [and, according to the Romance,
Alexander’s real father].”4 What first might appear to be sheer invention is seen, upon closer
inspection, to make a certain degree of alternate-historical sense. Fascinatingly, even the more
salacious details of the account serve a definite propagandistic function. Stoneman is worth
quoting at length:
From an Egyptian perspective, it was vital that Alexander, as a ruler of Egypt, should
have been conceived in the proper manner for a Pharaoh…True, Nectanebo is setting out
to satisfy his own desires…but the net result is a child properly engendered both by the
preceding Pharaoh and, by his magic arts, by the god Amun-Re.5
Although, as Stoneman had noted previously, the story falls into a recognizable folkloric
seduction pattern, it also exhibits a shrewd understanding of Egyptian dynastic politics which,
while not literally historical, is certainly grounded in deep knowledge of historical fact.
While a similarly canny concern for the intricacies of imperial succession is discernible
in the Romance’s account(s) of Alexander’s conquest of Persia, perhaps most striking is the
text’s depiction of the founding of Alexandria. As Stoneman argues cogently, “The historical
record on the foundation of the city is quite full, and here too the Romance comes closest to
being valuable as a historical source.”6 Not only is the Romance probably a source of genuine
3
Stoneman (2008) 13.
4
Ibid. 14.
5
Ibid. 20-21.
6
Ibid. 54.
historical information, full of “detailed local knowledge” which was tragically “garbled in
copying;”7 in some respects it may actually be more accurate than our extant historical sources.
While cautioning that “The narrative of Ps.-Callisthenes [i.e., the Alexander Romance] does not
lack inconsistencies,”8 C. Bradford Welles uses the text to establish the actual order in which the
foundation of Alexandria and Alexander’s famous visit to the oracle at Siwah occurred. Citing
the same “wealth of local details and of local customs”9 as Stoneman, Welles ultimately
concludes “that Alexander founded Alexandria only on his return from Siwah,”10 not, as some
other ancient sources have it, prior to his visit to the oracle. Stoneman is similarly inclined to
credit the Romance in its contention that Alexander “spent time in Memphis, the capital of
Pharaonic Egypt, and was crowned there as Pharaoh.”11
No historian, then, the author of the Romance was nonetheless able to incorporate history
into his conte. But if it isn’t a history, what is it? Susan Stephens cites Stoneman and Dowden in
calling it a “proto-novel.”12 In the cited chapter, Stoneman notes that “It is probable that the
Romance had assumed something much like [the A recension] already in the third or second
century BCE,”13 thus putting its original composition well prior to the classic Greek novels of the
first few centuries AD. Setting this fact alongside the Romance’s undeniable affinities with the
later genre, what might be the explanation? I argue that the proliferation of fantasy in the
Romance comes from a different, but no less imaginative source, one that was already
established as a genre by the time of our text’s composition: the travel narrative. Leaving aside
the genre’s earlier pedigree in Herodotus, the most obvious influence on the Romance’s hybrid
7
Ibid.
8
Welles (1962) 283.
9
Ibid. 284.
10
Ibid. 298.
11
Stoneman (2008) 55.
12
Stephens (2008) 56.
13
Stoneman (1994).
bestiary/ethnography is Ctesias’ lost Indica, summarized for us in Photius’ Bibliotheca and
dating to around the turn of the 4th century BC. Alongside such beasts of the field as the
manticore, Stoneman helpfully catalogues the “human races” described in Ctesias’ account: “the
pygmies of central India…men with dogs’ heads whose language consists of barking…another
race that lives exclusively on milk…[and] a race of men who up to the age of thirty have white
hair all over their bodies.”14
Ctesias’ influence on the Romance is obvious, but so is Pseudo-Callisthenes’ inventive
personal spin on the travel narrative tradition: “Here they encounter giant fleas the size of frogs
and numerous strange races including men with the faces of lions, giants with hands like saws
and a creature that sounds like nothing so much as King Kong.”15 The lion-headed men are both
dissimilar to and clearly influenced by Ctesias’ (and Herodotus’) dog-headed man, while the
frog-sized fleas are perhaps a permutation of Ctesias’ fox-sized ants. As in his use of history real
and imagined, the author of the Romance has skillfully integrated the traits of an established
genre into his own unique creation, creating a hybrid genre both distinct from and akin other
ancient novels: one things of the Menippean prose-verse menagerie of Petronius’ Satyricon, or
the folkloric grab-bag of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses. In the final analysis, what the Alexander
Romance shares with these texts is, paradoxically, its very inability to be classified.
I have done no more than sketch the broad outlines of the Romancer’s achievement; the
story’s voluminous afterlife, in both later recensions of the text and the rise of independent
Alexander-sagas in Persia, is beyond the purview of my analysis. The text’s unique status within
the literature of antiquity, however, should be quite perspicuous. In straddling the line between
popular literature and belle-lettres, the author of the Romance created a kind of micro-genre with
14
Stoneman (2008) 69.
15
Ibid. 73.
few imitators. While Stoneman’s classification of it as a “proto-novel” is useful and even, to a
limited extent, accurate, it does little to pinpoint the Romance’s curious blend of history,
invention, and (by the standards of the day) cutting-edge ethnography. One needs to venture as
far afield as Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy for a literary composition so singular in its purpose
and execution—and so full of wonders.
Works Cited
Stephens, Susan (2008). “Cultural Identity.” The Cambridge Companion to the Greek and
Roman Novel, pp. 56-71. Ed. Tim Whitmarsh. Cambridge University Press.
Stoneman, Richard (1994). “The Alexander Romance: From History to Fiction.” Greek Fiction:
the Greek Novel in Context. Ed. J. R. Morgan and Richard Stoneman.
Stoneman, Richard (2008). Alexander the Great: A Life in Legend. Yale University Press.
Welles, C. Bradford (1962). “The Discovery of Sarapis and the Foundation of Alexandria.”
Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, Bd. 11, H. 3 (Jul., 1962), pp. 271-298.