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“Murderers of the Dead” in Antiphon 1

The anonymous speaker of Antiphon 1 is prosecuting his stepmother for the murder of his father. Yet, in his prooemium and 1, he exerts more effort to discredit his stepmother’s defenders (i.e., his half-brothers: ἀδελφοῖς ὁμοπατρίοις 1.1) than to attack the defendant. He even makes the surprising allegation that his half-brothers are “murderers of the dead man” (τοῦ…τεθνεῶτος φονεῖς 1.4), even though, according to the prosecutor’s own admission, his father died as a result of potion acquired by the stepmother but administered by an unwitting slave woman (1.14-20).2 The phrase “murderers of the dead man” is paradoxical, for how can someone become the murderer of a man who is already dead at the hands of someone else? Even if we use the translation “murderers of the victim,” some sense of paradox remains to catch our attention.3 Why does Antiphon have the prosecutor include such an allegation? Would it surprise Athenian jurors, or is it merely a topos or a feature of Antiphon’s style? To the contrary, as an examination of some of the prosecutor’s options and tactics will show, this accusation reveals a crucial element of his strategy.

Before beginning that examination, I should like to stress that we have only the prosecutor’s version of characters and events, which can be at least two degrees removed from reality. In other words, the speaker’s ethos is a product of the speechwriter’s art and, necessarily selective, is fictional to some extent. 4 The jury would have seen and heard a prosecution designed to garner sympathy and so win the prosecutor’s case. The degree of this persona’s affinity to the actual speaker might have been clearer in oral performance but cannot be determined now on the basis of the text. The case, in turn, comes to the audience through the mediation of this artificial construct, without the benefit of support beyond the prosecutor’s account. We only “know” what the prosecutor tells us, especially since he produces no witnesses. 5 This limitation in our knowledge applies both to the modern reader and to the Athenian jurors. As T. A. Schmitz, for instance, warns us, “the only elements of the speeches that the jurors could immediately perceive as referential were mentions of people and things present in the law court. All other parts of the text merely claimed to be referential, a claim that could, due to the nature of the Athenian lawsuits, not be checked against external evidence: all trials were “she says, he says” cases, as we would call it today.”6 When I discuss options and tactics, I shall be considering the thinking and attitudes behind the speaker’s efforts and try to fill in some gaps in his presentation of the case and the “dramatis personae.” Like a typical rhetorician, I shall be relying on probabilities, and my scenario, like the prosecutor’s case, will be interpretative. My concern is with perceptions, not with innocence or guilt.

Antiphon 1 is unique among extant Attic forensic orations in that it involves the prosecution of a woman for murder and features half-brothers as in a homicide case, acting as prosecutor and defense counsel respectively. This seems the type of case that might have been settled privately to avoid the embarrassment of a trial. As it is, the prosecutor is careful to place the onus for the proceedings on his half-brothers.7 He claims that those who should be avengers of the dead man and the prosecutor’s helpers have compelled their brother to undergo this trial.8 Notably, the speaker does not elaborate here on how they have so compelled him, but his use of the singular substantive participle (τῷ δ ) ἐπεξιόντι) parallelling his reference to the victim (τῷ μὲν τεθνεῶτι) emphasizes that he is the only one taking action on behalf of his father. 9

The potential for odium against someone taking his relatives to court did not escape at least one early theorist. Discussing the kinds of prejudices that may arise in a forensic case, Anaximenes (Rh.Al. 1442a10, ed. M. Fuhrman, Leipzig 1966) states that prejudices associated with one’s actions will occur if one is engaged in (πραγματεύσηται) a case against kinsmen, “guest friends”, or personal (ἰδίους) friends. Especially relevant to the “lonely” prosecutor of Antiphon 1 is Anaximenes’ comment (1442b12) that a younger man may deflect prejudice from himself by claiming a dearth (ἀπορία) of older friends who could argue the case on his behalf. Here, of course, the speaker complains of a dearth of helpful brothers.

The prosecutor’s rationale for alleging compulsion does become clearer in the (1.5-13), where he depicts his as hindering the search for the truth. He insinuates that the defendant’s chief spokesman is guilty of impiety () for supporting his criminal mother instead of avenging his father10 and complains about his opponents’ refusal of the torture challenge ().11 Hence, the audience may deduce that frustration with his brother’s intransigence and outrage at a perceived skewing of filial priorities have forced the prosecutor to take formal legal action. At least, the speaker could hope that the jurors would make that deduction and so turn their displeasure against his brothers.

This tactic of criticizing priorities is hazardous. The speaker has introduced himself as young and inexperienced in the courts and has declared his in the face of a dilemma forcing him to choose between disobeying his father’s last command and taking his closest relatives to court.12 Since he refers to himself as a at the time of his father’s death (1.30), the prosecutor apparently was then no older than fourteen. He would be between eighteen and twenty years old by the “dramatic date” of this trial. 13 Even with his youth as a factor, however, the prosecutor cannot take the jury’s sympathy for granted. 14 Although they could empathize with his lone pursuit of vengeance (see Christ, note 8, 35-6), individual jurors might be skeptical and wary about being manipulated. They might even doubt that a would have been given so much responsibility by his father. Moreover, his plea of a “family-imposed” dilemma could benefit his opponents. If we accept the transmitted “facts of the case,” the speaker’s brothers have their own dilemma. To join in prosecuting their father’s murderer, they would have to go to court against a close relative, i.e., their own mother. In fact, since he is her (see below and note 15), could the eldest son really have been expected to prosecute his mother, when he was the person who should represent her? The jury might believe that the could have avoided his problem by settling out of court, but, in countering the prosecutor’s allegations about the , the defense could argue that they tried to do so. At any rate, sons who faced a dilemma in trying to defend their mother and their should be able to prevent their young sibling from garnering all of the jurors’ good will.

Further, although we know little about them and see them only through his eyes, the prosecutor’s siblings may all be older than he and, in comparison to him, have established reputations. The eldest at least has to be old enough to act as for his mother and to justify the speech’s emphasis on the youth and themes, an emphasis which would be ludicrous if his stepmother’s defender were near the speaker’s own age and equally inexperienced. 15 Set against this older brother, the prosecutor, as a young man and a , risks appearing too strident or even petulant in his attacks.16 His plea of inexperience should win him some latitude. His opponent could offset that plea, however, by implying that the younger man’s naiveté has led him to go to trial unnecessarily and by showing that experience, established status, and proven value to the community make the older brother a better judge of the situation. Of course, the economic and social status of the older brother is difficult to determine solely on the basis of the speech, which only lets us glimpse the family home (1.14) and refers to the father’s planned trip to Naxos (1.16), probably indicative of a business venture.17 The possibility that an attempt to win a settlement or a portion of an inheritance is at the root of this case (see note 8) is another, but still hypothetical, sign of the family’s wealth. Still, I am not assuming that the older sibling necessarily has had the time or the wealth to attain distinction. He should, however, be able to cite some participation in the affairs of the (in his deme at least), or introduce evidence that he has been a law-abiding citizen who troubles no one. 18

Since the speaker cannot allude to his own career (being too young to have one), he might bring up his father’s character, accomplishments, or benefactions with a view to contrasting the worth of the victim with that of the murderer. As it is, he neither mentions any of these nor cites his father’s name or pedigree. We should perhaps avoid the hazards of an argument from silence, and not make too much of these omissions. The victim’s identity at least would be clear to all.19 Further, in the sections defending his father (and attempting to remove prejudice against father and son), the defendant in Antiphon 5 also fails to give a parental name or pedigree but does include information about his father’s position and career relevant to his own defense (5.74-80). The speaker in Antiphon 1, on the other hand, has a different agenda, as he tries to create and exploit prejudice against his mother’s defenders. Hence, his stress is on the oaths and the . He may also feel constrained by limitations of time and prefer to highlight himself as his father’s avenger and “confidant” (1.30). Moreover, emphasis on their father’s status might benefit the legitimate sons more than a who may not want to call too much attention to his own social or economic position.20 The speaker, thus, has sufficient reasons to avoid a lengthy discussion of his father’s merits. 21

If the plea of youth and will not be quite enough, clearly the prosecutor has to find a dramatic way to turn the case against his opponents from the outset. He could begin with a direct attack against his stepmother and immediately denigrate her character by mentioning her name in court, letting his failure to respect her anonymity imply that she is not a respectable woman. 22 Unless supported by credible testimony, however, such an approach can be annoying rather than beneficial, especially given the probable status of the prosecutor and his mother, to whom he never even refers.23 The defendant has not given him much ammunition to use in diminishing her respectability. Apparently legally married to the prosecutor’s father and the mother of at least two legitimate sons, she seems to have been a respectable matron (albeit now an accused criminal). The prosecutor neither makes allegations of sexual misconduct against her nor challenges the legitimacy of her sons. He may depict his siblings as less than loyal to their father, but he does not dispute their paternity. There is no hint that the defendant has been anything other than a faithful wife. Her alleged use of the “love potion,” connected to a feeling that her husband was wronging her and to a desire to restore his affection for her (see 1.15), while extreme, is still within the confines of her marriage. Her discontent apparently has sexual roots, but she is no adulteress. Her husband would have been within his rights as a respectable Athenian male if he had engaged in sexual relations with his slaves or hetairai or taken a concubine. Yet, if the jury felt that he had been too open about his extramarital activity or shamed her, they could find his wife a sympathetic character.24

Furthermore, although he attacks his brothers for siding with their mother, the speaker makes nothing of the absence of a other than the defendant’s son to present her case. His stepmother presumably has no current husband and may lack an older male agnate willing or able to act on her behalf. Rumors (or direct knowledge) of a tendency to resort to a love potion could have damaged her chances for a new marriage or led her male relatives to shy away from helping her now, although clearing her of the charges would seem to be in the best interest of her . Most likely, however, she has simply preferred to have her son (or sons; see note 7 and note 15) defend her, and her choice cannot be assumed to cast doubt on her reputation.25

In general, the prosecutor seems better served if he avoids naming a woman whose identity as a defendant (whether by her name or by some periphrasis) would already be clear to the jury from the indictment. The notoriety produced by the charge is sufficient to discomfit his opponents. Her indictment would have led to speculation about her “ἐν τοῖς ἄρσεσι” who knew or knew of her family (and among those men’s womenfolk as well) and so have damaged her reputation, whether deservedly or not.26 Having diminished her to that degree already, the prosecutor can afford to observe due etiquette at the trial. In addition, if he is to maintain his persona as a young man troubled by the need to take relatives to court, he must show at least a modicum of respect for the woman who is the mother of his brothers. To avoid giving his opponents an inducement to attack his mother and the jury an impression of offensive impertinence, he needs to stay away from direct insult. The stepmother will get her due later when he calls her Klytaimnestra, thereby succinctly (and hyperbolically) summoning up for his male audience the frightening images associated with that name (1.17). 27 Moreover, his use of this sobriquet lets him identify his stepmother in a telling fashion without openly exceeding the bounds of propriety. 28 He has attacked her by giving her a name that suits her offense but has retained “deniability” behind a rhetorical ploy. Bandying her real name about would seem a pale insult next to this one word characterization. Further, her “identification” with the legendary queen elevates the defendant to the level of a dangerous woman who has devised and carried out a plot beyond the range of the typical Athenian female (or so male Athenians should hope). 29

In spite of this “Klytaimnestra’s” central position as the defendant, her persona remains almost as hidden as her real name. Other participants take center stage and overshadow her. For example, at 1.3, the speaker asks the jury to exact vengeance both for their laws and for the victim, if he proves that the mother of his brothers killed their father through planning and from malice aforethought (ἐξ ἐπιβουλῆς καὶ προβουλῆς30 and had previously been caught several times contriving his death. This section functions as a statement of the charge and establishes the stepmother as the defendant. The focus of the speech immediately turns, however, from the alleged murderess to the prosecutor’s isolation and his kinsmen’s abrogation of their duty (1.4). Maintaining that focus, the taxes the defense with its refusal to hand over their slaves for a (1.6-13). The prosecutor argues that these slaves know of a former attempt detected and prevented by his father (1.9), and that the jury should construe his opponents’ refusal to cooperate as indicative of their knowledge of guilt (1.11-13).31At this point, the integrity of the defendant’s is under attack. Since she is the person whose conduct is the object of the and the alleged “cover-up” by her son(s), however, the stepmother cannot be ignored in the . Yet, her role in this section is a passive one.

In a sense, she has been relegated to the “women’s quarters” while the men conduct business, but she never completely disappears from consideration. Her portrayal in the speech as a whole is stereotypical in citing her evil intentions and culpability (1.3, 1.8-8, 1.17, 1.20), lack of restraint (1.22), violation of the laws (1.24), lack of pity for the victim (1.25-7), and failure to respect gods, heroes, or human beings (1.27). All of these traits are topoi generic enough to fit, mutatis mutandis, any defendant, male or female, whether on trial for a violent act or under attack in some other litigation.32 Personalization of each topos is minimal. None is obviously “feminized”, i.e., adapted beyond the facts of the case for use against a female defendant.33 In other words, the stepmother does not, e.g., lack restraint or fail to respect the gods specifically because she is a woman. She can be said to share these characteristics with many male defendants.

Not surprisingly, it is “in” the women’s quarters that she briefly escapes from genderless topoi and where the narratio gives her more definition. Sections 14-16 tell of the friendship and plotting between the stepmother and the concubine who is to be her alleged dupe. We can assume that meetings between the two would have occurred in the women’s quarters of the victim’s home and so would not have been witnessed by the prosecutor.34 Men’s image of women as creatures conspiring together over matters involving sexual relations can be the stuff of comedy (see Lysistrata) and would seem to reflect a topos concerning women’s natures. Here that imagined conspiracy is sinister, and there are prejudicial nuances in this deceptively simple passage. The prosecutor states that his father’s house had an upper room in which his father’s friend Philoneos would occasionally stay (1.14). Apparently, Philoneos had brought his concubine with him, since the stepmother befriended her (1.14-5: ταύτην οὖν πυθομένη ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ αδελφοῦ ἐποιήσατο φίλην). 35 The contrast between the masculine and feminine friendships is quickly apparent in the rest of the narratio. Philoneos and prosecutor’s father are social equals, accustomed to enjoying each other’s company and hospitality (see 1.4 and 16-18). Their relationship is straightforward and firmly rooted in the masculine world of business ventures, dining (with a concubine present), and libations. The defendant, on the other hand, has befriended a slave, her social inferior. Why would a citizen stoop to such a friendship? Did she lack female relatives or respectable female acquaintances? The speech neither explores these possibilities nor is precise about when the friendship began.36

What is important for the speaker is not precision but the impression that reaches the jury. Wondering why a woman of the defendant’s status would make a slave her friend, they might see her action as compassionate, thinking that she pitied a woman who was about to be sold to a brothel. The course of the narrative, however, guides them to perceive a darker side and conclude that this unequal “friendship” resulted when the defendant saw a chance to acquire a tool to carry out her scheme. Hence, discovering that Philoneos was about to send his concubine to a brothel, the stepmother saw an opportunity to alleviate her own situation and summoned (1.15: μεταπέμπεται) her useful inferior.37 Their friendship was not real and not at all like the masculine one of her husband and Philoneos. Instead of hospitality, the stepmother offered a dangerous scheme and lured a desperate women into joining it. The slave woman was to help both herself and the stepmother by administering the potion that the stepmother would procure. Perhaps most disturbing to male Athenians, the defendant not only hatched this plot against her own husband; she also tampered with someone else’s slave to carry it out. This latter point should have solidified a negative impression of the stepmother’s character and of her motive for “friendship.”

After the concise but vivid account of her scheming, the defendant fades from the narratio. She receives mention only briefly as the person (the Klytaimnestra) whose instructions the concubine follows in deciding when to administer the potion (1.17) and then, at the narrative’s conclusion, as the guilty originator of the plot (1.20). Both of those allusions keep her in the picture as the force setting events in motion. Otherwise, from 1.16-20 the narratio focuses on the stepmother’s victims, i.e., the two men and the concubine. 38 The effect is almost like a “diptych,” with one side a scene of two women in conversation and the other a corresponding image of men drinking and dining. The two sides are unequal, however, and the differences in the treatment are striking. The description of the female conspiracy is essentially a narrowly focused snapshot of two people on one occasion with most of the background “cropped out.” Even though their status and connections with their respective males are clear, the participants in the reported conversation remain abstract. The stepmother’s claim that she is being wronged should be an indication that she is angry, but she does not show any emotion. Instead, as reported by a prosecutor who is trying to prove that she acted with malice aforethought, her remarks seem coldly methodical and rational. In his account, she knows what she is doing, and her emotional state does not intrude to excuse her actions.

The other side of the “diptych” (16-20) contrasts markedly with first. In place of anonymous women conspiring at an indefinite time is a meeting between two male friends who have taken advantage of an opportunity to socialize with no ulterior motives. The prosecutor’s father is about to sail to Naxos. Since he himself is going to Peiraeus to perform rites for Zeus Ktesios, Philoneos escorts his friend as far as that port and combines sacrificing and entertaining (16-18).39 Depicting them at Philoneos’ home, the narrator stresses the normalcy and propriety of the men’s activities. Both men seem to be well-to-do gentlemen.40 They do what they are supposed to do on such an occasion; yet, they unwittingly bring about their own deaths. With the assistance of the concubine, who has come along for that purpose, Philoneos performs the sacrifice appropriately (17: οἷον εἰκός; see Gagarin, note 1, 115). He and his guest dine and are ready to make libations and put frankincense on the altar, as is proper (οἷον εἰκός). Far from being redundant, the prosecutor’s identification of his father at this point as “the one who is about to sail and is dining with his comrade” and of Philoneos as “the one who performed the sacrifice and is entertaining” (18) makes what follows more shocking. In the midst of a setting commonplace among Athenian men, after making prayers that, contrary to normal expectations, will not be fulfilled (19), the two men take up the wine poisoned by the concubine and quaff their last drink. With no warning, they have become the victims of female treachery.

The has not only complied with the suggestions of the stepmother (17-18) and administered the alleged love potion. She has also shown unexpected initiative and given a larger dose to her master. The prosecutor conjectures that she hoped that a greater measure would make Philoneos love her more (19). Deceived by the stepmother (19: ἐξαπατωμένη), however, the concubine becomes her third victim, but not an innocent one (20: ἡ μὲν διακονήσασα ἔχει τὰ ἐπίχειρα ὧν ἀξία ἦν). She may have acted in ignorance of the dangerous nature of the potion, but she had agreed to an “assault” on her own master and then carried it out. Further, she compounded her crime by recklessly going beyond her instructions. Her suffering may underscore the duplicity of the stepmother who employed her to take all of the risks. In attempting to use more than her share of the potion on her master, however, the reveals her own dishonest side. To the extent that she could, the slave woman was as willing to deceive the stepmother as the stepmother was to trick her. The originator of the plot would not be at hand to see how the potion was administered. With no supervision, the concubine was free to put her own interests first. Those interests, of course, turned out to be ephemeral. Hence, the tool has been executed (20), but the manipulator, still in the background, has remained unpunished until this trial. Neither, in the prosecutor’s view, deserves sympathy or leniency. 41 They assumed roles unsuitable for their genders or stations. As a result, the slave who tried to control her master’s emotions and change her fate has paid the appropriate penalty. The wife who risked and ultimately caused the loss of her husband’s life in pursuit of her own aims should likewise suffer the consequences. If the prosecutor has delivered his narratio well, 42 the all male jury should have no sympathy for these women next to whose actions any wrong done by the male victims would seem mere peccadilloes. The causes would be irrelevant in comparison with the effects.

The wife whose conduct is starkly different from that of her unsuspecting husband is, of course, the person whom the prosecutor’s brothers are defending at the expense of their father (21-2) and against their brother (23-7). Employing a subtle tactic throughout his oration, the speaker distances himself from this woman and attaches her firmly to his brothers. In the prooemium (1.1) and elsewhere in the speech (e.g., 1.3; 1.6; 1.9; 1.14), she is the “mother of his brothers” (μητρὶ ἀδελφῶν) or of his brother (ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ αδελφοῦ) or his opponents’ mother (τὴν τούτων μητέρα). Notably, when he refers to her as Klytaimnestra, he adds “the mother of this man” (τῆς τούτου μητρός). 43 His only reference to her as his stepmother comes in the narratio at 1.19. There, he asserts that the concubine who administered the “love potion” did not realize that she had been tricked by his stepmother (ὑπὸ τῆς μητρυιᾶς τῆς ἐμῆς) until already in the midst of the evil deed (i.e., one man had died immediately, and the other had become very ill). Equally chary about her relationship with his father, he waits until section 26 to use the term husband (τὸν ἑαυτῆς ἄνδρα) and does so where the impact is crucial, i.e., in a context stressing that she who failed to have pity on that husband does not deserve pity herself. For an allegedly inexperienced young man, the prosecutor (thanks to his logographer) is sophisticated in coloring his diction. By so shading his remarks, from the prooemium on, he diminishes the stepmother’s status in the family and her connection with his father. 44 At the same time, by often mentioning the victim as his father, not as the stepmother’s husband, the speaker enhances his relationship to the murdered man at the expense of the defendant. The prosecutor still wants to tie his brothers to his father, however, the better to stress their lack of piety. Hence, he refers to them as his ὁμοπάτριοι and repeatedly uses “our father” to designate the dead man.45 Section 6 is especially telling, for its combination of “our father” and “his mother” (ὡς εὖ οἶδεν ὅτι γ ) οὐκ ἀπέκτεινεν ἡ μήτηρ αὐτοῦ τὸν πατέρα τον ἡμέτερον) obviously illustrates both the techniques of connecting and distancing that I have been discussing here. 46

Connections feature as a major element in the strategy of this speech, which seems to have all of its male participants enmeshed in dilemmas involving kinship obligations (see above). The prosecutor does not concede that his brothers have a dilemma, however. According to his professed code, their duty should be clear; they must focus their efforts on punishing their father’s murderer, no matter who that person may be. If they ally themselves with that murderer, as they have in defending her, then they share her guilt. Hence, their brother will go on the attack throughout the speech and try to turn them into defendants, albeit unindicted ones. 47 We have already seen how the prosecutor exploits their refusal of the torture challenge to imply complicity (see above and 1.13) on their part. In his scenario, his brothers must know or at least suspect that their mother is guilty. The prosecutor introduces his argument by wondering how his brother can say that she did not kill their father (1.6), when that brother has refused the test that could prove her innocence. At 1.8, he increases the stakes by asking how his opponent will have sworn to certainty about what happened without checking the facts through a . Reprising and strengthening this point, at 1.28 he marvels at the reckless thinking 48 that has led his brother 49 to swear to certain knowledge that his mother has done none of the things alleged against her (1.28: τὸ διομόσασθαι ὑπὲρ τῆς μητρὸς εὖ εἰδέναι μὴ πεποιηκυῖαν ταῦτα). Not being present at any of the events, his brother could not possibly know what happened. 50 The progression from claiming knowledge to attesting to it under oath has a clear purpose in the speaker’s strategy. If, conscious of her guilt, he has sworn to his mother’s innocence, the defense counsel has at least knowingly sworn a false oath, not to mention perjured himself. In addition, he is guilty of impiety against his father for supporting the defendant (see note 10 above). He is neither a fit advocate nor trustworthy witness. Against this forswearing brother stands the , who while still a boy was the son his father trusted to be a witness and eventual advocate for him (1.29-30).

With this final section (28-31) which sets up an antithesis between the two brothers, the speaker has come full circle from the contrast between himself and his opponents that he established in his prooemium. As is now clear, his strategy has been to denigrate his brothers and elevate himself at their expense not just in the prooemium, where rhetorical doctrine advocates creating prejudice against one’s opponent and good will for oneself, but throughout the speech. A major tactic in his efforts has been to use their relationship with their mother to incriminate his opponents by association. It is this tactic that the prosecutor chooses as an effective weapon to begin his speech and that explains his use of the phrase “murderers of the dead” (1.4; see above). Eager to press his case at their expense, the supposedly hesitant goes on the offensive immediately. At 1.2, he alludes to his father’s command to prosecute the murderers (τοῖς αὑτοῦ φονεῦσι) and then claims that, as he and the indictment say, his brothers are his opponents at law and murderers ( αὐτοὶ γὰρ οὗτοι καθεστᾶσιν ἀντίδικοι καὶ φονεῖς, ὡς καὶ ἐγὼ καὶ ἡ γραφὴ λέγει.). Only the stepmother is officially on trial, and so both the plural “murderers” and the reference to the indictment are striking. While could be a generalizing plural, 51 and are not, for they refer directly to the defendant’s sons. The identity of his opponents now clear, the prosecutor is not content with simply calling them murderers. Instead, he continues the attack in similar vein. Concluding his introduction with an emotional antithesis, he alludes to himself as the bereft son who is trying to avenge his father and is so isolated that he must call on the jury to act as his kinsmen should (1.3-4). Those who ought to be his helpers and avengers of the dead man are the prosecutor’s and murderers of the dead man. In other words, even though they did not commit the actual deed, his brothers, as his , are murderers. In shunning their obligation to their father and allying themselves even after the fact with the perpetrator, they share responsibility for the crime. We might say that they, like the concubine, have become tools for the defendant. The , on the other hand, true to his father and not connected with his relatives’ crime, is driven to seek refuge with the jury.

The need for sympathy from the jury is an obvious reason for the prosecutor to follow this tactic of guilt by association, but why has he been so vehement? Why does he exert as much (if not more) effort in discrediting his brothers as he does in attacking the defendant? Why has he made denigrating his brothers and elevating himself the strategy of his speech? The answer lies in the role of gender in Athenian court procedure. As Lin Foxhall has noted (note 22, 137), “lawcourts were one of a number of arenas in which males competed with each other, often on behalf of their households (to whom this arena might not be directly accessible).” 52 Women could appear as defendants in limited cases and, although they could not be witnesses, could swear evidentary oaths.53 The male , however, were the ones who counted, the ones who competed for the honor of victory, no matter who the defendant was. They were the ones who swore the and were capable of winning over a jury. In essence, just as in the theater, men played all of the roles, with the obvious exception of the defendant. 54 Is that exception so obvious, however? After all, a woman’s would have spoken for her and so “taken on” her role. Could he take on her guilt as well? I would assume that that would not normally be the case, but the prosecutor in Antiphon 1 has come close to making a do so. Hence, the labels his brothers “murderers of the dead” and strives throughout to make defendants of the men who are his real .

1 See M. Gagarin, ed., Antiphon, The Speeches (Cambridge, 1997) 109, on the use of a “preliminary argument” before the narrative here and in Antiphon 5.8-19. All citations of Antiphon in this paper will refer to Gagarin’s text. I am grateful to the Research Board of the University of Missouri for the grant and research leave that have assisted me in completing the present study. This paper is dedicated with affection and admiration to Eugene Numa Lane, my colleague at the University of Missouri for more than twenty years, and is a token of my gratitude for his encouragement and interest in my work on rhetoric and oratory. I hope that the philological aspects of the present study will intrigue him and that he will not be too surprised by the unexpectedly “feminist” turn to my rhetoric.

2 This slave woman was the of Philoneos, a close friend of the prosecutor’s father. On her servile status, see Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 115 and 117; J.H. Thiel, “De Antiphontis Oratione Prima,” Mnemosyne 55 (1927) 325; A. Bargazzi, ed., Antifonte Prima Orazione (Firenze, 1955) 87-88; ; E. Heitsch, Antiphon aus Rhamnus (Abh., Akad. der Wiss.und Lit. , geistes-und sozialwiss. Kl., Nr. 3, Mainz, 1984) 22-3 and notes 47 and 53. As the prosecutor reports in his narrative, this concubine gave the potion to both his father and Philoneos. The father lived for twenty more days, but Philoneos, who had been given a larger dose, succumbed immediately.

3 This phrase apparently occurs here and in Antiphon’s Third Tetralogy (4.3.1: αὐτὸς μὲν τοῦ τεθνηκότος οὔ φήσι φονεὺς εἶναι) and not elsewhere in extant Attic oratory. I shall not be considering the vexing questions of the authorship of the Tetralogies and their relationship to the rest of Antiphon’s work, but E. Carawan’s recent arguments, in Rhetoric and the Law of Draco (Oxford, 1998) 172-215, deserve serious consideration. For opposing views and literature, cf. most recently S. Usher, Greek Oratory, Tradition and Originality (Oxford, 1999) 355-9.

4 The hints of an Orestes persona (made explict in 1.17 in the reference to the stepmother as Klytaimnestra) increase the likelihood of fictionalization here, as Antiphon exploits a mythological paradigm. On the Orestes theme, see Thiel (1927 above, note 2) 322; Bargazzi (above, note 2) 15 and 90; B. Due, Antiphon, A Study in Argumentation (Copenhagen, 1980) 20; and E. Hall, “Lawcourt Dramas: The Power of Performance in Greek Forensic Oratory,” BICS 40 (1995) 55, who cites the “sly allusion” to Klytaimnestra that “suggests that the speaker is Orestes, offering the woman up to the jurors of Athens.” Hall’s discussion of drama and oratory assumes that (50) “although a skilled speech-writer like Lysias would presumably develop his characterisation of a particular litigant in a manner designed to emphasise the client’s ‘real’ personality if it were attractive, all the figures presented to the Athenian courts were ‘fictive’ characters invented by the speech-writers.” Her work “treats the speeches as one side of a performed dramatic dialogue where the words of another speech-writer for the presentation of the opponent’s case are usually lost to us forever.” The degree of collaboration between speech-writer and client is still controversial. See especially, K.J. Dover, Lysias and the Corpus Lysiacum (Berkeley, 1968) 148-73; I. Worthington, “Greek Oratory, Revision of Speeches and the Problem of Historical Reliability,” C & M 42 (1991) 55-74, “Once More, the Client/Logographos Relationship,” CQ 43 (1993) 67-72, and “History and Oratorical Exploitation,” Persuasion: Greek Rhetoric in Action, ed. I. Worthington (N.Y., 1994) 115.

5 J.H. Thiel’s two-part study “De Antiphontis Oratione Prima,” Mnemosyne 55 (1927) 321-34 and Mnemosyne 56 (1928) 81-92 is an antidote to uncritical acceptance of the prosecutor’s account. See K.J. Dover, “The Chronology of Antiphon’s Speeches,” CQ 44 (1950) 53, who sees the prosecutor’s case as “excessively weak, resting as it does upon unsupported hearsay evidence.” Carawan’s perceptive analysis of strengths, weaknesses, and issues (Carawan (above, note 3) 218-42) somewhat “rehabilitates” the speaker’s case.

6 T. A. Schmitz, “Plausibility in the Greek Orators,” AJP 121 (2000) 55. To emphasize the oral and rather ephemeral nature of most cases (as compared with those, such as Antiphon 1, for which we have an oration preserved), I would prefer to Schmitz’s .

7 Since the prosecutor has no other known siblings, I shall generally refer to these half-brothers as his brothers or his siblings. Fully cognizant that the terminology is not exactly compatible with Athenian practice, I shall occasionally refer to the brother conducting the defense as the defense counsel. My allusions to the “sons” of the stepmother presuppose the existence of the defense counsel and at least one legitimate full brother who would be listed among the prosecutor’s opponents (and, hence, among the defendant’s supporters) and played at least some role in the defense of his mother. An interesting later example of brother vs. brother opposition is the prooemium of Dem. 40 (Mantitheus against Boeotus II 1-5), a private suit over the dowry of Mantitheus’ mother. In that case, the plaintiff is attacking two men who, on the basis of claims by their mother Plangon, have had to be recognized as his brothers, products of an extramarital liaison between his father and Plangon. Obviously, the situation is reversed in Antiphon 1, where the plaintiff is a (see note 16 below). It is ironic that the father’s avenger in Antiphon 1 is the , not the legitimate sons, but the prosecutor can at least imply that he is the only one acting as a legitimate son ought to. See Dem. 40.46-8 and Usher (above, note 3) 261, for Mantitheus’s remarks on the behavior of a true son, and Apollodorus’ attack against his brother Pasicles in Dem. 45.83-4, expressing doubts about Pasicles’ parentage.

8 Acknowledging fate as a additional cause, the prosecutor says (1.2): γὰρ τύχη καὶ αὐτοὶ οὗτοι ἠνάγκασαν ἐμοὶ πρὸς τούτους αὐτοὺς τὸν ἀγῶνα καταστῆναι, οὓς εἰκὸς ἦν τῷ μὲν τεθνεῶτι τιμωροὺς γενέσθαι, τῷ δὲ ἐπεξιόντι βοηθούς. On the possibilities of a settlement, see Carawan (above, note 3) 221-3 and 227-9. In The Litigious Athenian (Baltimore, 1998) 168-73, listing numerous examples, M. Christ cites social pressure against suits brought by relatives against relatives. See also V. Hunter, Policing Athens, Social Control in the Attic Lawsuits, 420-320 B.C. (Princeton, 1994) 48-55 and Due (above, note 4) 16 and 22.

9 On Antiphon’s use of the participle as a substantive, see the examples in C. Cucuel, Essai sur la langue et le style de l’orateur Antiphon (Paris, 1886) 117-20. Here the parallelism, strengthened by and , separates out the prosecuting son and ties him to his father.

10 See 1.5, where the prosecutor must be referring to the brother who is speaking on behalf of the defendant. In view of the allegations in the prooemium, however, more than one brother would seem to be risking the “taint” of impiety. Concerning the positions of the prosecutor and the defense counsel, Due (above, note 4) 17, notes that in sections 5-13, “the speaker turns to his brother and criticizes his understanding of the notion of . To him it apparently only implies a command not to betray his mother, while the speaker finds it much more impious to deprive their dead father of the revenge due him.” The insistence on the priority of revenge for a father as opposed to loyalty toward a mother is consonant with the Orestes/Klytaimnestra theme that underlies the speech. Is the prosecutor implying that he could have brought a against his brother (or brothers) but has chosen instead to prosecute his stepmother? On the in general and its application, see Carawan (above, note 3) 152-3; R. Osborne, “Law in Action in Classical Athens,” JHS 105 (1985) 51-2 and 55-9; S. Todd, The Shape of Athenian Law (Oxford, 1993) 106 and 307-315. Carawan (229) points out that, if he secures a conviction of his stepmother, the prosecutor might then take his brothers to court again, this time charging them with impiety for “knowingly harbouring their father’s killer.”

11 Literature on the torture challenge is extensive, especially with regard to the likelihood of its actual acceptance. I shall not deal with that question here but instead refer the reader to the following sources which I have found most useful: G. Thur, Beweisführung vor den Schwurgerichtshöfen Athens: die Proklesis zur Basanos (Sitz. Akad. der Wiss. Wien, phil.-hist. Kl. 317.7, 1977) and “Reply to D. C. Mirhady: Torture and Rhetoric in Athens,” JHS 116 (1996) 132-4; S. Todd, “The Purpose of Evidence in Athenian Courts,” Nomos, Essays in Athenian Law, Politics, and Society, ed. P. Cartledge, P. Millett, and S. Todd (Cambridge, 1990) 19-39, esp. 27-36, and Todd (above, note 10) 96 and note 22; Hunter (1994 above, note 8) 89-95 and 133-4; M. Gagarin, “The Torture of Slaves in Athenian Law,” CP 91 (1996) 1-18; and D. C. Mirhady, “Torture and Rhetoric in Athens,” JHS 116 (1996) 121-31, and “The Athenian Rationale for Torture,” Law and Social Status in Classical Athens, ed. V. Hunter and J. Edmondson (Oxford, 2000) 53-74.

12 (1.1): νέος μὲν καὶ ἄπειρος δικῶν ἔγωγε ἔτι, δεινῶς δὲ καὶ ἀπόρως ἔχει μοι περὶ τοῦ πράγματος… Although emphasized by the paronomasia of and here, the pose of is a commonplace. On the commonplace, see Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 107; Usher (above, note 3) 28. For other examples of the commonplace, see Bargazzi (above, note 2) 73, and Due (above, note 4) 11 and 27, n. 3.

13 See Gagarin (1997) above, note 1) 106-7 and 121.

14 As Usher (above, note 3) 28, observes, given the difficulties of the case, “Antiphon had to use literary and rhetorical means to create the required prejudice against the defense.” See Wilamowitz, “Die erste Rede des Antiphon,” Hermes 22 (1887) 199.

15 See Carawan (above, note 3) 220. If he is handling something as important as this case, this son must be his mother’s only or principal . On , see also note 25 below. There is no clear evidence for the relative age or number of any other siblings. See note 7 above.

16 Carawan (above, note 3) 220 observes that “the manuscript hypothesis assumes that the plaintiff is a legitimate son of the victim by a previous marriage; but commentators have reached a virtual consensus that the plaintiff is in fact a later offspring, probably a freeborn son of the victim by a concubine, possibly non-Athenian.” See Thiel (1927 above, note 2) 322-3; Heitsch (above, note 2) 22 and notes 44 and 45. Representing a minority view, D. Ogden, Greek Bastardy in the Classical and Hellenistic Periods (Oxford, 1996) 191, argues in favor of the prosecutor’s legitimacy. While I agree with Carawan and Heitsch () that she possibly was a non-Athenian, I do not find the linguistic evidence for the status of the prosecutor’s mother convincing. Commenting on that evidence, Dover (1950 above, note 5) 51, n.2, agrees that the young man must be illegitimate. Dover adds, however, “we do not know that his mother was non-Athenian, and, even so, why should he use his mother’s pronunciation rather than his father’s?” If the stepmother really did intend to have a love potion and not poison administered to her husband, the liaison with the prosecutor’s mother is a likely proximate cause. See note 23 below. We might wonder, however, why the defendant waited so long before taking this action (if we assume on the basis of the prosecutor’s likely age that the liaison began about thirteen or fourteen years earlier). Was she unusually patient or did she make earlier attempts or is she actually innocent of the charges?

17 See Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 115. The prosecutor does use part of the narration (1.14-20) to elicit sympathy for his father and the stepmother’s other victims. See below at note 37ff.

18 Such claims are likely in view of the frequent citations of “good citizenship” that occur so often in Attic oratory. Antiphon 2.2.12 could serve as a “check list” for someone who wanted to illustrate behavior appropriate for a citizen. See, for example, Lysias 12.3-4 (no law suits) and 7.30-33 (munificent public service); Isaeus 4.27-28 (army service; various contributions; law-abiding lives); Isaeus 7.36 (); Dem. 21.13-4 (assumption of ) and 153-63 (comparison of service of Demosthenes and Meidias); Dem. 50.2-3 and 57-66 (trierarch). Too much emphasis on service could provoke envy and hostility. See Christ (above, note 8) 41-2; J. Ober, Mass and Elite in Democratic Athens (Princeton, 1989) 199-230; Lysias 7.32. A reputation for minding one’s own business also could be an asset, as L. B. Carter, The Quiet Athenian (Oxford, 1986) has shown. See especially Carter, 108-9 on the in Lysias 19 (notably 19.18 and 19.55). The Choregos in Antiphon 6 perhaps had reason to regret his public service, although, for obvious reasons, he stresses his meticulous fulfillment of his duties (6.11-14). On the wealth and status of typical “disputants,” Hunter (1994 above, note 8) 52, comments: “on the whole, there seems no reason to quarrel with the view that most disputants are members of the propertied class or even the elite. On the other hand, in their midst appear a whole series of individuals who might be better described as poor relatives.” If he did not share in his father’s estate, the in Antiphon 1 might be trying to use this trial to get back into the “propertied class.” Of course, he has had sufficient means to hire Antiphon as his speechwriter. See Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 114.

19 As we shall see below (see at note 22 ff.), the defendant also goes unnamed in the speech. Even though her identity presumably would have been clear to the audience, the omission of her name has connotations different from the omission of that of the victim.

20 Concerning the position of a , see especially, C. Patterson, “Those Athenian Bastards,” ClAnt 9 (1990) 40-73; R. Sealey, “On Lawful Concubinage in Athens,” ClAnt 3 (1984) 111-33, and Women and the Law in Classical Greece (Chapel Hill 1990) 15-16 and 112-3; Todd (1993 above, note 10) 178-9 and 211; Ogden (above, note 15) 151-163 and 189-212; C.A. Cox, Household Interests, Property, Marriage Strategies, and Family Dynamics in Ancient Athens (Princeton, 1998) 170-3.

21 As we shall see below (at note 37 ff.), the prosecutor will use the (1.14-20) in part to contrast the behavior of his father and his stepmother and to elicit sympathy for the victims of the crime.

22 Except for allegedly less than respectable women (at least, those as presented by litigants on the opposite side), most women in extant speeches are anonymous. See D. M. Schaps, “The Women Least Mentioned: Etiquette and Women’s Names,” CQ 27 (1977) 323-30 and Todd (1993 above, note 10) 201. Noteworthy examples letting us see both sides are Dem. 36.8 and 36.30-32 (For Phormio) where the defense avoids naming Phormio’s wife, who happens to be the mother of Apollodorus, the plaintiff, and Dem. 45 (Against Stephanus),where the same Apollodorus avoids mentioning the name of his mother, in spite of his hints that her conduct has been less than stellar (see sections 3-4 and 83-4). At Dem. 45.74, however, Apollodorus skirts the proprieties a bit and lets his mother’s name “slip” into public notice when he quotes a clause from his father’s will that mentions her by name (Archippe). See Dem. 40, where the plaintiff frequently mentions Plangon by name (see sections 2, 8-11, 20, 27, etc.), since it is in his interest to challenge her respectability and, by implication, that of his alleged half-brothers. On Plangon’s status, see especially Hunter (1994 above, note 8) 29-30, 32-3, 42, and 114. Using Archippe’s case as one instance, L. Foxhall, “The Law and the Lady: Women and Legal Proceedings in Classical Athens,” Greek Law in its Political Setting, Justifications Not Justice, ed. L. Foxhall and D. E. Lewis (Oxford 1996) 141, observes that “women who are not on trial can also be subject to brutal accusations from their legal opponents or those of their menfolk.”

23 See note 16 above. Mantitheus in Dem. 40 cites his own mother (carefully unnamed, see Schaps above, note 22, 324-26) as a proper wife and mother, especially as compared with Plangon. Is the prosecutor in Antiphon 1 able to make similar claims about his mother? His failure to mention her in this case may reflect deference to propriety. Another likely scenario, however, is that her status as his father’s concubine makes her son vulnerable and could diminish his stature before the jury in comparison with his siblings. Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 114-5 has noted that the prosecutor is careful to identify the guilty concubine as Philoneos’, “suggesting that the speaker is concerned that the jurors might think of the other , his mother.” At any rate, it makes sense for her son to avoid mentioning her. Except for giving birth to him, his mother has no apparent connection to the case beyond her liaison (of uncertain time and duration) with his father. The prosecutor cannot stress this liaison as his stepmother’s motive for murder without violating his mother’s privacy and perhaps making the jury wonder whether there is a jealous woman involved on his side of the case as well.

24 Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 114 comments that, while the prosecutor needs to show that the defendant wanted revenge, “…if he gives details about the wrong she suffered, he will make it easier for the defense to portray her as the victim of a cruel husband. So we are not told what wrong was done her, though we may guess that one factor was probably her husband’s mistress or concubine (the speaker’s mother…).” Linked to his consideration for his wife and mother (αἰσχυνόμενος τήν τε γυναῖκᾳ καὶ τὴν μητέρα τὴν αὑτοῦ πρεσβυτέραν τε οὖσαν καὶ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ διαιτωμένην), Lysias’ housing of his hetaira with a friend, not at his own home ([Dem.] 59. 21-2), seems to illustrate the proper “etiquette” for balancing a wife and mistress. Did the speaker of Antiphon 1 live as a at his father’s home rather than with his mother or her family? If so, his presence as a (and reminder of her husband’s concubine) could have been an additional irritant for the stepmother. His reference to the upper room in “our house” and his alleged attendance on his dying father are the only clues to his living arrangements and are insufficient for a conclusion.

25 Citing the law in Dem. 46.18 “indicating those relatives who were legally entitled to give a woman’s hand in marriage (by )” and so to be , Hunter (1994 above, note 8) 16-17 notes that “the list includes her father, followed by her homopatric brother, and then her paternal grandfather: her closest agnates.” These were not a woman’s only possible , however. See Hunter (1994 above, note 8) 18-19; Todd (1993 above, note 10) 209-210; and L. Foxhall (1996 above, note 22) 150.

26 See Pericles’ famous admonition to women, as presented by Thucydides (2.45.2), which Schaps (above, note 22) 323, uses as a starting point in his discussion of the propriety of naming women in court.

27 In their editions of Antiphon, F. Blass (Leipzig, 1892), L. Gernet (Paris, 1954), and A. Bargazzi (Firenze, 1955) use the spelling Κλυταιμνήστρας, while Gagarin’s text has Κλυταιμήστρας. On this question of orthography, see P. Marquardt, “Clytemnestra: A Felicitous Spelling in the Odyssey,” Arethusa 25 (1992) 241-54.

28 See note 22 above on the indirect method used by Apollodorus in Dem. 45, a method considerably less dramatic than the one here. It is interesting to note that Orestes does not mention his mother by name in his “defense” speech at the end of Aeschylus’ Choephoroi and that no one in the trial scene at Athens in the Eumenides names Klytaimnestra. Are Orestes and the deities involved also “following the rules”? The omission of Agamemnon’s name as well might indicate that the victim and murderess were too obvious to need naming. Yet, merely mentioning his name in public would not insult Agamemnon. At any rate, it is ironic that here in Antiphon 1 the prosecutor “disgraces” Klytaimnestra by invoking her name with malicious symbolism instead of naming his stepmother.

29 I am looking ahead a bit here to Aristotle (Po. 1454a23-4: ἀλλ ) οὐχ ἁρμόττον γυναικὶ τὸ ἀνδρείαν δεινὴν εἶναι. ), but I assume that the philosopher’s remarks reflect a fairly common attitude. See Hall (above, note 4) 49-50 on this passage from the Poetics, to which she adds Rhet. 1.1356a 1-13 and 3.1408a 25-31.

30 Translating this as “planned and premeditated,” Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 108 comments that “the first term is common in this sense, the second occurs only here and in 1.5 in classical Greek.”

31 As Due (above, note 4) 12-3, has observed, the prosecutor is slow to reveal that the purpose of the is to provide evidence not about the murder but only about former attempts. After section 9 reveals this purpose, “in the rest of the passage the argumentation is carried on as if it concerned the actual murder.” Discussing the torture challenge, Carawan (above, note 3) 237 argues that information sought in questioning of the slaves “goes directly to the issue of , that she knew or should reasonably have anticipated the lethal consequences.” Although in the prooemium he stressed the multiplicity of attempts (1.3: καὶ μὴ ἅπαξ ἀλλὰ πολλάκις), in the the speaker seems to refer to only one other attempt (1.9: kai; provteron ktl. ). See Bargazzi (above, note 2) 76 and 82-3, and Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 108. This latter scenario would seem more likely, and we should consider 1.3 as “oratorical license” to exaggerate. On the other hand, the plural in 1.9, even if a case of a generalizing plural, could give one pause.

32 See, for instance, the following examples of these topoi, used by prosecutors or defense: a.) culpability/evil intentions: Antiphon 2.1.5-7; Antiphon 4.1.6; Antiphon 4.3.4-6; Lysias 1. 15-7; Lysias 4.8-11; Dem. 54.22-5; Dem. 21.41-3, 74; b.) lack of restraint: Antiphon 2.1.7-8; Lysias 3.5-9; Dem. 21.17, 41, 66, 79; [Dem.] 2554-8; c.) violation of the laws: Lysias 1.26 and 31-36; Dem. 21.2, 20-1; d.) lack of pity: Dem. 21.95-7; [Dem.] 25.83-4; e.) lack of respect for gods, etc.: Dem. 54.39; [Dem.] 59.107 and 117; Dem. 21.33-5, 51, 104-5. While their underlying framework is similar to that of corresponding topoi in Antiphon 1, each of these examples, with the possible exception of those from Antiphon 2 and 4 , is far more developed. The assumption that these and similar topoi were developed with male defendants in mind seems reasonable. Still, the forms are general enough to be applicable to practically any human defendant, male or female, Greek or foreigner.

33 The prosecutor’s version of the case requires that the defendant be identified as a woman who has succeeded in causing the death of her husband after previous attempts. The basic framework of each topos is not affected by this version or by the defendant’s gender. In fact, the topoi are so sketchy that they barely go beyond their abstract form.

34 His use of ὡς οἶμαι (1.6) makes this obvious, no matter what the arrangements were at his father’s home. Certainly, the stepmother would not have spoken openly of her plan in front of her stepson. He is either using his imagination or at best has drawn some information from the confession of the . As is the case with his rest of the speech, the prosecutor brings forward no witnesses or depositions to substantiate his claims. He presumably wants his audience to assume that his scenario rests on a confession extracted by torture. On that confession, however, see Thiel (1927 above, note 2) 325-33.

35 Given the limited excursions outside the home available for a woman of the stepmother’s apparent status, there is little likelihood that the stepmother would have sought out or associated with the concubine elsewhere. Gernet (above, note 27) deletes πυθομένη, commenting (42) that “scholium videtur pro αἰσθομένη sq. versus.” Gagarin (1997 above, note 1), however, retains πυθομένη, arguing (114) that it “designates a general perception of events,” while αἰσθομένη designates “an understanding of the injustice involved.”

36 The aorist ἐποιήσατο need not imply a continuing relationship but also does not utterly preclude one. The narrative seems to imply that the friendship began when the stepmother found out Philoneos’ intentions, but this is not necessarily the case.

37 The syntax reinforces the distinction between the two women. Discussing Bargazzi’s observations (above, note 2, 21 and 88-9) on the clarity of the narrative, Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 115, comments that “the stepmother is the subject of all of the verbs of speaking and main verbs in indirect discourse until ὑπέσχετο, while the is either an object of verbs or the subject of subordinate verbs. This reinforces the impression that the stepmother is the primary agent, the her subordinate.” I would maintain that it also reinforces the difference in status between the two.

38 Gernet (above, note 27) 42 has aptly compared this section to a typical messenger’s speech in tragedy. See Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 114.

39 The rites for Zeus Ktesios would have taken place in Philoneos’ home. See Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 115.

40 In 1.14, the speaker describes Philoeos as a “gentleman” ( καλός τε καὶ ἀγαθὸς καὶ φίλος τῷ ἡμετέρῳ πατρί). See Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 114, who observes that “both men appear to be fairly prosperous.”

41 As presented by the speaker, the concubine, in danger of relegation to a brothel, has more reason to act than the stepmother does. The prosecutor is almost dismissive in noting that the defendant claimed that her husband was wronging her. His presentation reflects his aim in the narratio is to create sympathy for the male victims and to avoid giving any details that could mitigate his stepmother’s guilt. See note 24 above.

42 See Hall (above, note 4) 46-49 on delivery in drama and oratory. While one might assume that delivery is more important at the beginning and conclusions of speeches, the narratio offers special opportunities. For example, Hall, 54, has observed that a litigant could use his narrative “to do things forbidden by the conventions of the court, such as recount speeches by people who could not be witnesses themselves.” Moreover, “female utterances are often delivered in direct speech to great effect, although women could not normally be used as witnesses.” The speaker in Antiphon 1 does not substitute direct speech for female testimony. His skilful recounting of both the conversation in the women’s quarters and the pallake’s deliberations at the scene of the murder, however, allow him to use the women as witnesses indirectly. Since the prosecutor does not (and probably cannot) produce corroborating witnesses or the concubine’s actual confession, his delivery must add verity to the narrative. Unfortunately, we have no way of determining whether the prosecutor’s skill at delivery matched the verbal talents of his logographer.

43 I agree with Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 116, that these words are not “an intrusive gloss” but instead are typical of the prosecutor who “tends to spell out such details.” In this case, the detail is important as a reminder that the defense counsel has chosen the “wrong” side.

44 The prosecutor has to tread carefully with this topic. He cannot distance his stepmother so far from his father that he eliminates the horror (not to mention the fear) jurors should feel at the thought of a wife compassing the death of her husband.

45 See 1.3: τοῦ ἡμετέρου πατρός;1.9: τῷ πατρὶ τῷ ἡμετέρῳ; also 1.14, 1.15, 1.19, 1.20, and 1.24.

46 We may contrast Dem. 40.1 where Mantitheus refers to his father Mantias as “my father” (τὸν πατέρα μου), not as “our father”, thereby not so subtly indicating that he does not acknowledge the parentage of his brothers. This verbal emphasis on himself as the only true son is a carry-over from Dem. 39, but the level of hostility seems to have increased. Compared to Dem. 40, moreover, Dem. 39 is relatively civil. At least in Dem. 39, with the exception of one reference to his brother Boiotos as “the son of Plangon” (39.0), Mantitheus “politely” refers to his opponents’ mother as their mother or as the daughter of Pampilus (e.g., 39.2). At any rate, Demosthenes’ rhetorical exploitation of possessives and/or epithets would seem to offer support for the relevance of Antiphon’s usage here.

47 Despite 1.2: αὐτοὶ γὰρ οὗτοι καθεστᾶσιν ἀντίδικοι καὶ φονεῖς, ὡς καὶ ἐγὼ καὶ γραφὴ λέγει. The case itself was a δίκη φόνου, not a γράφη.. On the distinction, see, e.g., Todd (1993 above, note 10) 98-112. Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 108 comments that for this case “the accusation entered with the was evidently written”. We know that they are his , but did the prosecutor actually name his brothers as murderers in his written accusation? We would be mistaken to think so. The stronger assumption is that the speaker is aware of the shock value of leaving a quick, even if inexact, impression that his brothers have somehow officially been linked to their mother as accused murderers (see Schmitz at note 6 above). As , the eldest son would bear the brunt of his opponent’s accusations, but I see no reason to exclude the other brother(s) completely. For example, if he (or they) were actively assisting the in the defense, they might have taken the along with him and so have been liable to their opponent’s censure. On the , see D. M. MacDowell, The Law in Classical Athens (Ithaca, 1978) 119, and Athenian Homicide Law in the Age of the Orators (Manchester, 1963) 90-100. See also Todd (1993 above, note 10) 96 n.21 and 273; R. J. Bonner and G. Smith, The Administration of Justice from Homer to Aristotle (Chicago, 1930; reprinted NY, 1970) II. 165-173 and 222.

48 Noting the hendiadys of τόλμης and διανοίας, Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 120 translates the two as “audacious thinking.” I prefer “reckless” because it seems better to reflect the pejorative sense of the Greek.

49 At this juncture, would the speaker have allowed a bit of scorn to creep into his voice as he mentioned his brother? Needing his connection with them to maintain the pathos of his dilemma, the would not want to disavow his brother(s), but he can still do his best to denigrate them.

50 I am paraphrasing freely the more general πῶς γὰρ ἄν τις εὖ εἰδείη οἷς μὴ παρεγένετο αὐτός;

51 For example, the prosecutor refers to his half-brothers as opponents but then in the attacks only one brother. See note 7 and note 10 above and Gagarin (1997 above, note 1) 107: “one brother presumably presented the entire defense, but the orators use the singular (1.5 etc.) or plural almost indiscriminately in referring to the opposing side.” The plural φονεῦσι is be intentionally vague at this point. If he actually did refer to murderers (see 1.29-30), the victim might have meant his wife and the concubine.

52 See Hall (above, note 4) 57 on the courts as “an arena for competitive social performances.” R. Osborne, “Religion, Imperial Politics, and the Offering of Freedom to Slaves,” in Hunter and Edmondson (2000 above, note 11) 80, comments that “court cases are about the redistribution of honour; to be allowed to compete there is to be allowed to acquire honour, indeed to acquire differential honour.”

53 On women in court, see Neaera in [Dem.] 59; Foxhall (1996 above, note 22) 141; Todd (1993 above, note 10) 208. Concerning women as witnesses and the evidentary oath, see Osborne (2000 above, note 52) 80; Foxhall (1996) 143-4; and Todd (1990 above, note 11) 27-8 and (1993 above, note 10) 96 and 208.

54 See Hall (above, note 4) and note 42 above.